No Pun Intended

We hate hearing puns, yet we love saying puns.

When we hear a pun, we think, "oh man, how lame." However, when we say a pun, we think we're clever. Usually a smirk follows the end of the pun sentence, and to make ourselves feel more clever, we add the phrase, "no pun intended."

Democrats, Republicans? I say bring back the Whigs

Have you ever met an extreme republican and thought to yourself, "wow, that guy has no compassion for people who aren't straight, white, protestant males."

Then you take a walk and you see a democratic person with a binder collecting monthly donations for some cause and you think to yourself, "I'm a struggling college kid, and this guy expects me to pay $20 a month to save a desolate rainforest?"

We really need a third party. A third party that contains the sane thoughts of both parties and discards wack though. I realize that we have Green parties, Libertarian parties, and Donald Duck parties, but no candidate from those parties will be president. They aren't participating in the debates or raising lots of money. We're stuck with two choices.

I slightly favor democrats, but it's not like I go ga-ga over democrats. On multiple choice tests, we choose the answer A through D. While choosing the next president, we get A and B and a G, H, and I that aren't even an option on a scantron sheet. I would like to have a C, a D, and the occasional E.

Other presidential tidbits:

Interesting fact. The only two nominated Whig party members died in office.

Personal dream. I would love to see our candidates don the powdered wig. Could you imagine Barack wearing a powdered wig? Could you see John McCain going to a hair stylists and asking for curly extentions?

What's your favourite presidential style? The old-school powdered wigs? The long, scruffy beards? Or the current clean shaven, nicely cropped hair?

The Correlation Between Furniture and Pictures

I have a photo album that contains a plethora of pictures from my early childhood during the 80s. Many of those photos contain “the couch.” Anyone who grew up in the 70s and 80s know what couch I’m talking about. It’s that dim, grungy brown, yellow, orange meshed couch that resided in every house in America during those decades.

After noticing the bad haircut, the dorky clothes, and the couch all contained in one memory-sake picture, I observed the actual quality of the picture itself. The picture is of a rather dim, grungy, brown, yellow, orange meshed quality. I then came to an epiphany! Furniture and photography have parallel progressions.

In the 90s, we traded in that worn-out couch with patches on the cushion for a new couch that contained a flappable armrest. Once the armrest cushion was flapped upward, a secret cup holder was revealed. Pictures at this time became a little clearer as zoom-in features and better flashes were readily available to the average consumer.

During our present decade, we started becoming hip with our furniture. We now want to show the world that not only can we enjoy sitting, but we can sit on an artistic piece of furniture. Sometimes we even question whether it is appropriate to sit down when this couch really belongs on display at a museum! Yes, I’m talking about the Ikea rage.

Similarly, our cameras are now digitalized. We can preview our pictures. We can take the same picture five times until finally “Brad” learns how to time the flash. Not only can we preview our pictures, but we can upload pictures on to a computer and create a myriad of cool photoshop creations. Our pictures are now artistic. Perhaps the pictures also belong in a museum on an end table next to the Ikea couch.

All this truly fascinates me. Really, I don’t see where we can improve on photography and furniture. I am, however, excited to see what the next decade brings. Perhaps, the brains of picture quality and control can figure out how to remove the “thumb” in most of my pictures in my photo album.

Comparing the All-Star Teams with VORP

The All-star teams have been announced, so I want to see if they got it right.

So the rules are:

I determine the line-ups using VORP.

I take ten starting pitchers and two relief pitchers (starters do more work so should deserve the merits). I take (at least) two position players for each position. Unless there is a position that isn't worthy of two positions, I'll make adjustments. I don't take one player for each team, however, usually every team has at least one all-star worthy player.

AL All-Star Team:

OF:
Grady Sizmore
Josh Hamilton
JD Drew

DH:
Milton Bradley

1b:
Kevin Youkilis

2b:
Ian Kinsler

SS:
Michael Young

3b:
Alex Rodriguez

C:
Joe Mauer

Reserves:

OF:
Jermaine Dye
Johnny Damon*
Carlos Quentin
Manny Ramirez
*Ichiro Suzuki replaces the injured Damon.

1b:
Jason Giambi

2b:
Brian Roberts

SS:
Derek Jeter

3b:
Evan Longoria

C:
AJ Pierzynski

Pitchers:
Cliff Lee (starter)
John Danks
Roy Halladay
Justin Duchscherer
Shaun Marcum
Jon Lester
John Lackey
Rich Harden
Mariano Rivera
Joakim Soria

Here is how the AL all-star team looks:

Starters:

C: Joe Mauer - correct
1b: Kevin Youkilis - correct
2b: Dustin Pedroia - Kinsler is the fifth best player in major league baseball acc to vorp. Pedroia is having a good year though. Still. Fifth best player in MLB.
SS: Derek Jeter - He's the second best short stop in the AL. In the NL, he ranks behind Clint Barmes. Seriously. But he is an all-star so not horrible.
3b: Alex Rodriguez - correct
OF: Josh Hamilton - correct
OF: Manny Ramirez - JD Drew and Grady Sizemore are having better years. Manny is an all-star so not horrible.
OF: Ichiro Suzuki - He's not an all-star. However, he would replace Johnny Damon on the team as an injury replacement. So in the end he would be an all-star just not a starter.
DH: Milton Bradley replacing injured David Ortiz

Sizemore is the ninth best player in MLB acc to VORP. Kinsler is the best player in the AL. Seriously.

Reserves:
Jason Varitek, Justin Morneau, Ian Kinsler, Michael Young, Joe Crede, JD Drew, Grady Sizemore, Carlos Quentin, Dioner Navarro, and Carlos Guillen.

Varitek, Morneau, and Crede shouldn't have made the team. But the only people that really got screwed were Jason Giambi and Jermaine Dye.

Pitchers:
Cliff Lee, Roy Halladay, Scott Kazmir, Joe Saunders, Ervin Santana, Francisco Rodriguez, Jonathon Papelbon, Mariano Rivera, Justin Duch, George Sherrill, Joakim Soria. Those pitchers are fine. I mean, most of these guys that made the team are close enough VORP wise to the people I had making it. But John Danks got the royal screw job. He's the second best pitcher in the AL.

The NL All-star team according to VORP:

OF:
Matt Holliday
Pat Burrell
Jason Bay

1b:
Lance Berkman (best player in baseball)

2b:
Chase Utley

SS:
Hanley Ramirez (third best player in baseball)

3b:
Chipper Jones (second best player in baseball)

C:
Brian McCann

DH:
Albert Pujols (fourth best player in baseball)

Reserves:

OF:
Nate Mclouth
Carlos Lee
Xavier Nady (what's with the pirates and really good outfielders?)

1b:
Adrian Gonzalez

2b:
Dan Uggla

SS:
Jose Reyes
Rafael Furcal

3b:
David Wright

C:
Russell Martin

Pitchers:
Tim Lincecum (starter, best pitcher in baseball. And to think, baseball tonight experts and the inept giants organization were thinking of putting him in the bullpen last year)
Ben Sheets
Dan Haren
Cole Hamels
Edinson Volquez
Carlos Zambrano
Tim Hudson
Aaron Cook
Johan Santana
Jake Peavy
Brad Lidge
Francisco Cordero

Here's how the NL all-star team is as it stands:

C: Geovanny Soto - He's the third best catcher. Not horrendous, but McCann is one of the top 20 hitters in MLB and the best catcher.

1b: Lance Berkman - Best player in baseball.

2b: Chase Utley - correct

SS: Hanley Ramirez - correct

3b: Chipper Jones - correct

OF: Ryan Braun - He's having a good year, but the weird thing is the Pirates outfielders are dominating.

OF: Alfonso Soriano - overrated.

OF: Kosuke Fukodome - I'm surprised he isn't one of the top six NL outfielders. I think he deserves to make it, but according to numbers, he just misses it.

Reserves:

Russell Martin, Adrian Gonzalez, Dan Uggla, Aramis Ramirez, Miguel Tejada, Nate Mclouth, Ryan Ludwick, Brian McCann, Cristian Guzman, and Albert Pujols.

I feel bad for Pat Burrell. Overall the position players look good.

Pitchers:

Brandon Webb, Edinson Volquez, Tim Lincecum, Ben Sheets, Ryan Dempster, Brad Lidge, Kerry Wood, Brian Wilson, Aaron Cook, Billy Wagner, Dan Haren, and Carlos Zambrano.

The only problem I have is Brian Wilson. He's horrible. Really bad. Saves are overrated. Look at his ERA. 4.37 ERA. 98 ERA+. For a relief pitcher! His WHIP is 1.4!!!

Look at it!!

Cole Hamels should be outraged!! He's the third best pitcher in the NL. As for everyone else, they're fine. Most of those pitchers are lumped in with the Tim Hudsons of the world.

Overall, an very good job. Except Brian Wilson over Cole Hamels. The Giants have their representative in Tim "nl cy young" Lincecum!!!!!! Who would you rather put in the game? Brian Wilson or Cole Hamels? Exactly.

George Carlin Dead at 71

Comedian George Carlin died last night at the age of 71.

George Carlin's star was before most of our times. I'm sure most of you know him as the guy that's in Kevin Smith movies. Of course I remember him as the star of the really bad George Carlin Show.

Of course for older generations, he's in the pantheon of great comics joining Richard Pryor and Rodney Dangerfield. History buffs may recall his arrest for the Seven Dirtiest Words bit in Milwaukee in 1972.

Here's a YouTube tribute.

The Arm Rest

I went to a party recently, and I met a female by the Chex-mix bowl. I dug into the bowl and ate the wonderful snack while discarding the pretzels. The thin brunette was wearing casual clothes and drinking liquid from a plastic red cup.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“1:30,” I said.

After about five minutes of that dialogue going back and forth, I decided to change the subject.

“Isn’t it crazy how Ronald Reagan punked Walter Mondale in the 1984 election?” I said.

“Oh my god, I know, right? It reminds me of the time Ashton Kutcher punk’d The Rock,” she said.

“I don’t think I saw that episode. What happened?” I asked.

“The Rock was on set for the movie Be Cool and Ashton totally blew up The Rock’s trailer freaking The Rock out big time,” she said.

“You’d think the celebrities would be on to it by now. I mean, how often do trailers really blow up?” I said.

“That’s true. Gees, what horrible song is this?”

“Pat Boone. I can’t believe they’re playing Pat Boone. That’s about 50 years too late. Give me Duran Duran. Something,” I said.

“Gold Digger,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“I want to hear Kanye West Gold Digger,” she said.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

I went to the CD player and noticed a CD wallet. I flipped through the CDs and found the Kanye West CD. I inserted the CD into the stereo and played Kanye West. I walked back to, ummm, what’s her name?

“Hey, so what’s your name?” I asked.

“Blossom,” she said.

“Really,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“That must have sucked growing up,” I said.

“Yeah. The Joey Lawrence jokes were really bad,” she said.

“Well, at least he’s an obscure reference today. Regardless, I’ll spare you the ‘whoa!’ anyway,” I said.

“Thanks. Guys think they are original when they should that out,” she said.

“Sometimes we’re not that creative. It’s true. I’m Ryan, by the way,” I said.

“Hello Ryan,” she said.

“This might not be the most original idea ever but how about we see the Nacho Libre at the movie theatre,” I said.

“That’s out on DVD,” she said.

“It is, but there is this one movie theatre that plays Nacho Libre nonstop. I’ve always wanted to check it out,” I said.

“Okay, that sounds good. Let me see your phone so I can put my number in it. You can call me tomorrow,” she said.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.

Moments later the cops knocked on the door. The neighbors complained because we played Kanye West too loud. Why weren’t there complaints when we played Pat Boone?

The next day I called her.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing much. I’m just looking at pictures of Tom and Katie’s kid,” she said.

“That kid could be either the best looking kid in the world or the ugliest kid in the world. Really, there is no middle,” I said.

“There’s an article in here about Brad and Angelina. I still can’t believe Brad left Jennifer,” she said.

“Oh, I can,” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“Cannn not. Jennifer is beautiful, bold, funny, and charming. Angelina. What? Gone in 60 Seconds. Come on. Give me something more,” I said.

“Yeah, exactly. She used to be with Billy Bob. Brad is the hottest man in the world and he is getting Billy Bob’s leftovers,” she said.

“Well, that’s better than when Nicolas Cage married Lisa Marie Presley. He was getting Michael Jackson’s leftovers,” I said.

“Ick, that mustache on Bruce Willis has got to go,” she said.

“Yeah, not the best fashion choice. But hey, so we’re on for tonight, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was thinking around eight would work for me,” she said.

“That’s fine. I’ll pick you up then,” I said.

“Okay, see you then,” she said.

I went over to my friend’s house for advice.

“So I got this date with this girl I met last night. We’re watching Nacho Libre at that one movie theatre. So when we’re sitting
down, should I place my hand on her knee or around her shoulder,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You know, how do I approach the movie theatre date,” I said.

“I wouldn’t worry about all that. You just have to make sure the armrest is up,” he said.

That night, I picked up my date, got tickets, and entered the theater. We sat down in the semi-reclining chair. Every time I reclined back, the chair moved me forward.

Her arm consumed the armrest, and I was going crazy trying to figure out how I could lift the armrest up. Then it hit me.

“Hey, can you get some snacks if I give you some money?” I asked.

“Sure, what do you want?” she asked.

“Chex mix? Dunkaroos? Those giant, chewable Sweetarts? I don’t know. What do they have?” I asked.

“Um, popcorn,” she said.

“Okay, that works. And get a drink too please,” I said.

She left to go purchase the popcorn and soda, and I swiftly moved the armrest up. Then I moved it back down. I did not know what to do. I thought she would think it was weird that suddenly the armrest was up after she left. Maybe she wanted the armrest up. I don’t know. I just wanted to watch the movie from the director of Napolean Dynamite, the writer of School of Rock and the cinematographer of Ghost Dad.

I saw her walking up the stairs, and I quickly moved the armrest back up. I almost expected Roger Waters to perform a celebratory concert of the union of the two movie theatre seats.

She handed me the bag of popcorn and sat down. She moved the armrest down, placed the soda cup in the armrest cup holder, and we watched the movie.

He won because I lost

“Hey, let’s hit the dance floor,” I said.

“Should we go up to two girls who are dancing with each other?” my friend Mike asked.

I refuse to do the wingman thing seriously. I can’t comprehend how two girls can fall for the buddy system shtick.
My mom and grandma raised me during the 80s. I ironed my clothes at two years old. I cooked eggs at eight years old. I made bracelets from thread at ten years old. I never nailed pieces of wood together to make a birdhouse. I never changed my car’s oil. Actually, I have never flipped through a car magazine.

Women see two guys approach them, and the women think the guys are after sex. It does not matter that the two guys in this situation want to dance. How many times have we seen the movie where two guys work their game on women at a club? How many times do guys watch those movies and think that actually works?

“No, I’d rather just dance on my own. Ya know there’s going to be a girl dancing by herself,” I said.

* * *

“There’s the Captain Morgan girls. I bet they are giving away free drinks,” I said.

“Let’s go over there,” my friend Cyrus said.

We walked to the bar area where a man dressed as Captain Morgan posed for pictures with patrons. Team Morgan consisted of two other girls. One girl took pictures from a Polaroid camera, and the other girl would go to the bar to retrieve Captain and Cokes to give to the patrons.

“How do you get free Captain and Cokes?” I asked.

“If you take a picture with the Captain, we will get you a free drink. But here’s a starter,” she said.

I took a drink.

The other girl placed Cyrus and myself next to the Captain, and she took a picture of us. The first girl gave Cyrus and me another drink.

“Thanks, that was really awesome of you,” I said.

“No problem. This place is running Captain specials all night,” she said.

“That’s really cool, but I like the idea of free drinks, ya know,” I said.

“Let me see what I can do,” she said.

Two minutes later, she brought Cyrus and me another drink.

“If I keep posing for pictures, will I get more free drinks?” I asked.

“Yeah, do you want to take another picture?” she asked.

“Well, it would be cool if I had a copy of the picture,” I said.

Seven progressively drunker pictures later, I had my alcohol fix for the night. I spotted my friend Mike at the other side of the bar.

“Hey, let’s hit the dance floor,” I said.

“Should we go up to two girls who are dancing with each other?” he asked.

“No, I’d rather just dance on my own. Ya know there’s going to be a girl dancing by herself,” I said.

* * *

“I’m not a p-nazi. Are you kidding me? I just like being in pictures, you dork,” I said on the phone to my friend Monika.
Dirtyscottsdale.com categorizes a p-nazi as a guy, who takes a shirtless picture of himself in the bathroom or at the gym.

“Fine, fine. But you’re in every picture I took. You just pop up somehow,” she said.

“I don’t turn down a free picture,” I said.

So you’re hitting the clubs tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah. I feel like breaking it down on the dance floor,” I said.

“What are you wearing tonight?” she asked.

“Button down shirt, those brown funktastic pants, no tie, and purple contacts,” I said.

“How’s the hair?” she asked.

“I’m growing it out,” I said.

“No, you need a haircut,” she said.

“Ya know, fuck the pretty boy image. I’m a rock star,” I said.

“Yeah, sure you are,” she said.

“Oh, come on now. You know I am,” I said.

* * *

“I’m going to dance with that girl over there,” I said.

“Go for it,” Mike said.

Every step I took toward her matched the Kanye beat. Her blonde hair screamed, “I used to be a brunette!”

“Yes, I know,” my fake black hair said back.

“Hi, I’m Ryan,” I said.

“Devra,” she said.

“Devra?” I asked.

“No, Sarna,” she said.

“Sarna?” I asked.

She laughed. “No, [totally inaudible],” she said.

“Oh, okay, cool. Nice to meet you,” I said.

The Bel Biv Devoe song played, and I threw out steps that Stomp The Yard couldn’t match.

* * *

“You know, I can go off campus for lunch,” I said.

“Oh, mister big high school senior and his off campus pass,” my friend Tara said.

“I’m just sayin,” I said.

“Why don’t ya?” she asked.

“I like to hang with the people sometimes,” I said.

“So we’re the people?” she asked.

“Yeah, you know, you’re the commoners, and I’m reaching out to ya,” I said.

I enjoyed hanging out in the newspaper room with Tara, Amy, Patty, Erin, and Kim. We had this thing called ‘Girl Talk.’ The title doesn’t really make me seem manly, but I learned how to be a man from the talks. I would talk about a girl I was dating, and they would offer me advice. Logically, I figured getting advice from girls was better than getting advice from guys.

“Wanna dance?” Tara asked.

“What is this? Nsync?” I asked.

“No, Backstreet Boys,” she said.

“Sure, let’s do it,” I said.

“Okay, follow my lead,” she said.

* * *

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump knees. I’ve had a little bit to drink,” I said.

“That’s okay. You dance unusual,” she said.

I’ve taken sober notice at guys’ dance moves at clubs. Some guys are just tremendous. Other guys look like their whole body from the knees to the neck is wrapped in a hard body cast. The head bobs in motion. The knees bend and catch some beat. And their ankles must be sprained or something. I’m trying to figure how the Wobbly Chicken became the dance craze of my generation.

I don’t dance professionally. In fact, film coverage of my dance moves would confuse Napoleon Dynamite. I like to have fun, and I know that movement is fun. I incorporate swing, ballroom, and bump n grind in my routine.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of swaying. Save that for a Coldplay concert,” I said.

A man approached -what’s her name- from behind. He started dancing and holding on to her back hips.

“I think your boyfriend is getting jealous. I should leave,” I said.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said.

I spun us around, so now my back is facing him.

“Better?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s been bothering me all night,” she said.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“He’s my friend, but he’s been trying to get with me all night,” I said.

“And you’re not interested?” I asked.

“Nope, just a friend,” she said.

“Apparently, he doesn’t grasp that concept,” I said.

She kissed me.

“I’m going to get some water,” she said.

“Alright, I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” I said.

* * *

“I made you this bracelet,” I said.

“Oh, cool. It’s FSU colors,” Melissa said.

Melissa sat in the front of my row in my 5th grade social studies class at St. Jude’s elementary school in Florida. I didn’t have any feelings for her, but at the same time, she didn’t have cooties. She made a bracelet with Gator blue and orange colors for me one day. I thought bracelet-making looked fun so I bought a bunch of thread and a case at the store.

Bracelet-making: the new game boy.

Other boys and girls from class picked up on this activity. I considered myself the Susan B. Anthony of bracelet-making.
Later that day at recess, I did the Too Legit To Quit moves with a couple guy friends. The dance consists of a lot of arm and leg movements. The original Tae-Bo. After the dance, I backed up to fall on the mulch for the grand finale. However, I backed up into a bigger sixth grader.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

“Sorry man, I didn’t know you were behind me,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. You touched me. A fifth grader touched me,” he said.

“It’s cool, dude. I’m sorry. No problems,” I said.

He pushed me.

"Don't push me," I said.

“You’re not going to fight me? Are you a pussy?” he asked.

“I don’t fight,” I said.

“Look at this pansy. I totally won,” he said to a couple friends.

"What did you win? Where's your ribbon? I don't see it," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course you don't get it," I said.

* * *

I came back from the bathroom, and -what’s her name- stood by the corner with her head down.

“Is everything cool?” I asked.

“I guess,” she said.

“Let’s go dance,” I said.

She didn’t move.

“Come on. It’s The Backstreet Boys,” I said.

She just looked at me.

“Tell me why! Ain’t nothing but a heartache. Telllll me whyyy,” I sang.

She smiled. We danced.

Her friend noticed us dancing. He came over, hooked his arm around her shoulder, and took her away from me.

“Come on, dude, what are you doing?” I asked.

He didn’t respond. I decided to go look for my friends. I couldn’t find them, so I called Mike. He said that they were outside, and they would wait for me. I walked around the club to find my dancing partner so I could tell her that I was leaving.

I saw the guy drag her towards the exit.

“Hey, it was really cool meeting you. I’m going to leave, but let me give you a hug,” I said.

I went to give her a hug. The guy pushed me.

* * *

I almost fell to the ground, but I maintained balance.

“Hey, you fucking idiot. What the hell was that for?” I asked.

“You think you can take me?” he asked.

I took a swing at this guy’s nose causing my knuckles to bleed. My skin didn’t break, but rather I caught the blood streaming
down from his nose. I then tackled the mother fucker to the ground.

“Hey, you bitch. What? Did you think I didn’t have it in me?” I taunted.

I punched him in the face again and pinned him to the ground. Club security then speared me to the ground. Nearby police officers quickly followed with handcuffs around my wrists and behind my back.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked.

“You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent,” the police officer said.

“Man, it’s impossible to keep me quiet. Fuck that. That idiot pushed me for no reason. He pushed me because he needed to validate his manhood. He pushed me because the girl liked me,” I said.

“And you elevated the incident,” he said.

He took me near his horse and phoned a patrol car.

“Why are you riding a horse? That’s just ridiculous,” I said.

* * *

I almost fell to the ground, but I maintained balance.

“That’s not cool, man,” I said.

He looked at me.

"What? You got nothing to say, so you have to push me?" I asked.

"Maybe I'll push you again," he said.

"Okay, that's fine. I'll be calling her tomorrow and we'll have a good laugh at what a prick you are. Really? A muscle shirt? Doesn't that require muscles?" I said.

Club security saw the push and escorted him out.

“Do you have another ride or something?” I asked.

“Yeah, I actually came with them,” she said pointing to two guys, a girl, and another girl dancing with a guy.

“Hey, that’s my friend David dancing with your friend,” I said.

“That’s cool,” she said.

“Well, hey, I’m going to get going, so I hope you have a good night,” I said.

“Yeah, definitely. Call me sometime,” she said.

I walked out of the club and met up with my friends.

“Can you believe what just happened? I totally got pushed from some jealous dude,” I said.

“Did you push back?” Cyrus asked.

“No, you know. I was thinking. That guy was so insecure about himself that he had to push me to validate his manhood. I didn’t need validation. I got the girl,” I said.

David walked out of the club and approached us.

“Hey, we’re the big winners tonight,” I said.

* * *

I almost fell to the ground, but I maintained balance.

I was so upset. I just looked at him. I walked outside and found Cyrus.

"Dude, this guy in the club totally pushed me," I said.

"What guy?" he asked.

"See that girl?" I asked.

"Umm, I think so," he said.

"The guy next to her. He pushed me. God I just want to go over there and kick his ass. Do you got my back?" I asked.

I asked that question hoping that Cyrus would talk me out of it.

"Dude, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

"Well, umm, fuck it, I'm going over there whether you got my back or not," I said.

"Alright, I got your back," Cyrus said.

I looked at him. "There's probably no point now."

* * *

The final scenario rang true. I did nothing. I did not stand up for myself. I let the guy push me. While I was not a macho guy that fought for a silly reason, I did not verbally confront him. I did not get the girl. Sure, we danced and made-out, and I got her phone number. He walked out with the girl, but he did not get the girl. I can not completely confirm that because I never called her. Why would I? I was a bitch. I let a guy push me around. I let a guy that she did not like drag her by the arm. I did not stick up for myself or for her. I was ashamed. He won because I lost.