Being devilishly witty I say, How do you know my name? He then tells me that he followed my NBA career and even has a few of my rookie cards. The question of to whom has my mother been selling cards to on the Internet has now been answered. Now I only have three more lost souls to search the earth for.
The reason I bring this up is because my wife seems to get more attention than I do over here. Dont worry, my ego is still intact and I am definitely not one to go announce that I am a pro athlete. Being seven foot tells the tale and claiming that I am a professional ceiling painter doesnt cut it.
Actually I find it quite refreshing that I dont get very many stares for being overly tall. Any vertically enlightened person will vouch for me in saying that they are mildly annoyed when approached and told about someones tall friend or cousin or past butt of a giddy joke. My preferred response to these comments would be, Yah, next time I am at the Association of Freaks I will tell him you said hello. Beat it. I abstain.
So back to my point, Jennifer and I were leaving a game the other day that I had played rather well in, and a teenage boy approached us. He gestured with his phone that he wanted a photo so I leaned towards him. I was given the did you just fart look as he put his arm around my wife and took their picture without me in it. Must have been his first real life blonde sighting. He had only heard about them in jokes I guess
My comments about individuals who view deodorant as kryptonite struck some chords I have learned. They werent malicious by any means, so all you border-line foul smelling souls can rest easy. I might just say that when in doubt, reapply aforementioned anti-smell device. I even did an interview with a reporter from the NY Times about my own usage, and agreed to go a couple days without using underarm protection for her story. Arent I just crazy?
Imagine going two days sans deodorant. It kind of felt like I was an undercover cop inside a drug sting. Always looking over my shoulder and debating if anyone knew of my dirty little secret. I survived, and suffice to say that it wasnt pleasant. I am still happily married at least.
Ohh, and hell must have frozen over because I now have satellite T.V. I have adapted to the laid back Spanish life style, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Seriously, three months to get TV?
The cable guy might only have worked one day in the last three months for all I know, but at least he came to our house. He probably threw a dart at the Calendar and decided that November 27th would be the day he worked last month. Now, if only I could find someone to come mow my lawn
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