He looked like shit today. Like some sort of Johnny Cash/Clint Eastwood/Marcello Mastraionni wannabe. Wasn't working. He just came off as douchey JC Penny's Clearance Rack two sizes too small, with tacky shoes. That's great for me and the normal world but when some multimillionaire who works less than your local grocery bagger- by a LOT- walks around like he shits cancer-curing champagne but dresses like a prom geek slob, it must be addressed at face value.
He looked over at me a few times and seemed convinced he was making a meaningful impression. The impression I actually got:
This idiot needs someone to dress him in the morning.
Please get Marco back in uniform immediately. He still looks like shit and makes us lose, but at least heinous mishaps such as we witnessed today won't sully my game-going experience any more than actual attendance already does.
If "I shop in the junior high formal wear department" was what you were going for today Marco, you fucking terrible fucking basketball player/lard-butted lazy ass, good work.
Effing 'nozzle. God he sucks hard.
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As I've said to each of my ex-wives, pointing out what is wrong with me is all too easy, unfortunately, pointing out what is wrong with me doesn't help you deal with your own short comings.
ReplyDeleteSo, lets see some pictures of you...