As a born and raised southerner, I was wondering what you thought of the southern women and how your pursuit of a southern belle trophy was going? Is the Sports Dude's game translating well to those country girls? Or do they find your turned up collar and Ivy League pedigree too intimidating?
Thanks for the question Josh aka Cisco St. Lucious. I thought I had a big breakthrough last week in my never-ending quest for a southern belle trophy wife. It was about 2am (last call) and I was at my ritualistic Thursday night haunt, Market Street Pub. I was rocking an absolutely killer outfit of a yellow polo shit with collar up tucked into awesome multi-colored plaid shorts when a really cute blonde belle came up to me asking if I was in a frat. Ever the quick thinker, I told her I had been where I procured my undergrad education. This, of course, was followed up by the question, "What frat and where did you go to undergrad?" Without hesitation, I replied that I was in Chi Psi at Cornell, playing my first big macking card. She was instantly impressed, even commenting that I must be real smart. So, logically she then asked what I was doing down here. I then played big macking card #2 and told her I was in law school. We made some more chatter and everything was going mucho awesomely when she asked me if I knew this kid Mike, in law school. I said that he’s a good friend of mine and I thought that I had another good in. I was getting ready to take this baby to the landing pad. But then it happened, in a slow motion moment, as the crowd was getting shuffled out by the ‘roided up bouncers I asked for the seven digits that the phone company gave. She said she couldn’t because she’s the GF (girlfriend) of Mike’s good friend. Total bummer! The Sports Dude will remain undeterred by this turn of events and resume his usual sketching out of girls next time he drinks.
Sports Dude is never one to spurn a fashion question. As is known by my readership, I am the #1 proponent in the nation of rocking collars up. My credo for life is a little literary piece entitled "Collars down are for poor people." If there is an overwhelming response I will post the article in it’s entirety in a future edition of the column. It should give you some clue as to the image projected by the collars that refuse to give in to Newton’s Laws. As far as back gelling goes, there is nothing I despise more than seeing someone back gel. For those of you who are unaware of this phenomenon, backgelling is when clubbers/metrosexuals gel the hair on the back of their heads straight up, as well as the hair on the rest of the scalp in order to form one large flammable fro. Some say it’s the metro’s response to the collars up style, others just say it’s straight up homo. Both schools of thought have good theories, but back gelling just makes me want to punch people in the face.
Ron Ron showed nary a sign of this anti-social behavior in his days at SJU. There as a Frosh, he led the Redmen (I would rather eat my own deuce than call them the Red Storm) to their first NCAA tourney birth since the 1992-1993 campaign. The next year Artest was the premier player on a team that took Duke to double overtime and was one non-call against Ohio State from going to the Final Four. In that Duke game, Ron Ron hit a clutch 4-point play towards the end of regulation to send it to OT. That shot ranks up there with some of the great moments of my life like……hmmm, excuse me while I pop a bottle of Prozac. As my buddy Triola astutely observed, Ron Ron played like a bull in a china shop. He would barrel over anybody to get to a ball or put one in the basket. Plus, he had enough skill to not be dreadfully labeled as a “blue collar worker.” (The Sports Dude despises and Bruce Springsteen)