Commish Report
Week 7 - October 12, 2002
Congraulations to this year's evil genius, Dave Jones who won $290 in week 7 and is now in first place by over $200. Now on the important stuff…
I thought I had a pretty good story this week, not great, but not drunk Fey either. But now after a conversation with HamPster Balls, I feel like I did in college showering next to Macgruder. Take your mind way, way back to last Friday. Back when I still cared about the LYA, the Vols, or football in general. Back before the ridiculous Saturday Pops and I had at the Georgia Tennessee game in Athens. It was a time of innocence, when Barfield had me believing that I had a chance to win week 7, and Pops believed just for a moment that Florida State could beat Miami. Pops had explained to me that the game would certainly come down to the dreaded field goal that FSU had missed so many times before, but this year, "this year it actually could be different because our kicker is pretty good," he said, followed immediately by "Oh shit, I just jinxed it. I can't believe I just said that." Ah yes, the beginning of the end some would call it. The end that occurred during the second half of our game, as the Vols turned the ball over on downs, seemingly ending any chance of a victory, as Pops stared at the ground, contemplating Florida State's loss (and his role in it), and as I stared at my trusty LYA sheet, printed in Atlanta and transported to the game, which now read 0-4….the end that came when Pops turned to me and said "Man, I need a new hobby." Never have truer words been uttered, nor will there ever be again (read in the voice of Will Ferrell doing James Lipton on Inside the Actor's Studio).
But I digress. My newfound disinterest in football and all of the associated gambling should not overshadow one of the great human-interest stories of this season. Put yourself in the mindset of last Friday when you heard that quasi-member HB may be unable to submit picks on time due to his trip to the hospital following an auto accident. Remember that nervous excitement that percolated at the possibility of an 0-10. Remember it and put yourself in his shoes…
He was on his way to work mid-afternoon a mere 2.5 blocks away when he was run off the road by a Bell South truck (NOT a Toyota Land Cruiser). He clipped two other cars as he swerved and spun out of control and slammed into a large lamppost. He looks up as he sees the lamppost crash to the ground, barely missing his jeep. Although no injuries are apparent, it is suggested that he go to the hospital.
The nurse in the initial room gives him the flimsy gown to wear and tells him to take off his clothes, although she suggests that he leave his underwear on, you know because those gowns don't account for much. It was only after she left the room that he remembered that he had elected to go commando that day, creating quite the dilemma. Sitting bare butt on the table, he was thinking of how to explain the situation when two different nurses, hot nurses, came to get him to take him to the x-ray room. The porn-like surroundings rattled him to the point where he certainly could not explain what had happened, and as he read nurse number one's face to say something like "what part of 'leave your underwear on' did you not understand, you sick bastard," let's just say that a better nickname would have been turtle head at this point. The x-rays would be taken with him positioned on a four-legged stool with wheels, placed in the middle of a smooth cement floor, or laying on his back, chest or side on a table. With the dual nurses covering every angle, and at all times trying to keep the essentials, and his nervous condition, covered, you can imagine the difficulty in maintaining one's dignity. The nerves and associated awkwardness grew exponentially as he flipped from side to side, back to front, up and down, like some sick porno version of "Simon says".
The end was in sight as the nurse told him to get back on the stool for last shot, but as he tried with the left hand to clasp the gown, and with his right hand to wheel the stool underneath him without having to cock his leg up in the air, he undershot the stool a bit, landing one butt cheek on just enough of the seat to shoot it sideways into the wall like a tiddlywink, himself crashing to the ground with only one hand, specifically one thumb, to break his fall. Hearing the popping noise, the nurses rushed to the aid of this pathetic, sprawled out, asscrack and balls everywhere creature, now with an king kong-like purple swollen thumb. Imagine the way those nurses told the story later.
So after having hobbled back to his room, HB awaited the doctor with the x-rays. Upon seeing HB, the doctor said forget about your spine, what happened to your thumb. After explaining that he hurt it in the x-ray room by missing the stool, HB was immediately sent back to the hot nurses to get his thumb x-rayed. Now, as he walked down the hall, it was very apparent that the entire east wing of the hospital was aware of him, the guy with the buttcrack and the thumb. So, long story short, the hot nurses confirmed his broken thumb in an uneventful final set of x-rays.
I hope reading this you felt ashamed of yourself. Imagine. While you were snickering about the possibility of an 0-10, mocking him in group e-mails, that poor jackass was sitting in a hospital bed, frightened, with shrunken penis, holding his gown with one hand and trying to type his picks in with the non-broken digits on his other, freshly cast, hand. You people are sick.
Seeyainaweek!