December 22, 2007
like a different team
Originally published January 11, 2006
Quinton's team won their basketball game tonight by a score of 36-32. It was a good game, and I swear that I didn't recognize the same team I saw play last night. This time, the boys acted like they actually knew what they were doing. Quinton shot twice from the field and made one, so he's maintaining his 50% field goal percentage. He stole the ball twice on defense, too.
My boy plays hard. What he lacks in height, he makes up for in hustle. I know what that's like.
After the game, I did just what I promised I was going to do. I introduced myself to the Bloodless Cunt's next victim. I walked up to him, stuck out my hand and said, "Hi. I've been wanting to meet you. I'm Rob, Quinton's daddy."
The guy looked at me without saying a word. He grabbed my hand and applied one of those bone-crusher squeezes that some assholes call a handshake. Bejus. I should have figured on that. He LOOKED like The Type.
I'm all for a firm handshake. I get the goosebump-willies and immediately distrust a man with a wimpy, dead-fish handshake. But this macho, "I'm gonna squeeze you to your knees" bullshit is almost as bad. The prick really impressed me with what a man HE is by pulling that shit on me. I think he was jealous because I've got more hair than he does.
I just smiled and squeezed back, thinking, "Oh! Don't hurt me, you awesome epitome of masculinity! I am SOOOOO impressed!" Fucking horse's ass. He and Jennifer fit together like an anus and a butt-plug. A perfect match: both of 'em shitty.
Well, at least I got THAT out of the way. Now I'll never have to shake his hand again.
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