A Rivalry Renewed

As many of you, my faithful readers, know, The Mikerowave's blog "dropped" (his word, not mine) on Thursday. What many of you also know, is that Michael and I have a friendly rivalry that stands to be rekindled with the generation of dueling blogs. Our current feud spans several genres of competition, from athletics to jokester shenanigans to worldly knowledge. While Michael may have gotten the upperhand in some place...track, being short, living in Methuen...I have dominated the young squire in most arenas.

Take, for instance, the epic one-on-one basketball matchup between myself and Mr. Nimerowski. He thought he had it locked up...but I had the house key. That's right, more rhyming. What can I say, it's a gift. While the Mikerowave (because he heats up so quick...get it) took a two games to none lead, yours truly (at this time dubbed "The Artful Dodger" by peers due to my uncanny ability to pick people's pockets) battled back. But down three games to two, my back was against the wall. I was forced to break out the big guns. Summoning the power of the jersey (#1 fan Pete...recognize), game 6 was mine, going away. The all-decisive game 7 loomed. Ahh, the most exciting event in sports. Winner take all, loser go home. Me. Mike. My driveway. Let's do this. It was a back and forth battle throughout. Not my best afternoon shooting the ball (meaning I only shot 65% from the field rather than my usual 80-90%), but I persevered. I was forced to rely upon my lockdown, shut 'em up, run home to momma hustle defense. True to my moniker, I stripped Nimmy of the ball in the waning moments as he tried to tie the game. My ball...game point...drive left...pull up. Ice. No reason to be ashamed Michael. My silky smooth J and dreamy low post moves create a nearly unstoppable inside-outside combination. Maddalo agrees, that's why he now refuses to play me. I'm a force.

I've also put a hurt on Life cereal prank style. Names will be omitted to protect the innocent, but mark my words, this happened. For reals. One evening during our high school years, I recruited a female accomplice to telephone my rival and good buddy. Said female claimed to be a younger vixen who was interested in Michael...romantically. Let's just say he was less than opposed to the idea. Truth be told, Michael and I were both quite taken with this track-and-field beauty, but I would never have been foolish enough to believe a call from her in the evening time without previous contact was a genuine one. They spoke via telephone for several minutes during which time Justin (host of the operation) and myself (mastermind) laughed uncontrollably in the background. Now I assumed Michael was aware of the deception and would not think on it after its conclusion. Whenst I arrived home, a full two hours later, and spoke to him over the online communication system known as "AIM," I learned otherwise. I'll spare the boy the embarrassment of the direct quote, but let it be known, he fell for it. Hard.

Now, "Ski" will claim that he has since returned the prank favor by duping me, in a much more hurtful manner mind you, this past summer. I'll let him relay the story if he so pleases, but be aware of the following facts, as they are indisputable. The prank played at my expense was:

a) not funny
2) not his idea
d) only successful due to some brilliant acting from Cormier, featuring an uncalled for slap to my face that may or may not be the low point of my life. (Speaking of which Corms, expect retribution for said assault in the near future. My palm...your cheek. It's time they were introduced.)

'Nough said.

Clearly, I maintain a decided advantage (6'2" > 5'8") in the rivalry and this most recent clash will further cement my supremacy. And if my "cockiness" (although I prefer "justifiable confidence") turns you off, know this: you can do anything if you believe in yourself, which I do. Also, it's called sarcasm, watch The Daily Show once in a while.

Now I know this has run a bit longer than you may have expected, but that happens to me sometimes. I'm tad, shall I say, verbose. I'm loquacious... effusive... rambling... ruggedly handsome... garrulous... charming... long-winded...wordy. This much I admit. I have no choice to do as such after being told several times by counterparts with whom I have previously joined forces with to pen academic papers. That's right, I'm looking at you Maddalo...and you Glenn! I mean, I would expect such things from Mr. McSweeney, but Caitlin...ouch.

Anyways, hope you've enjoyed the yarns I've spun. And if I've written too much, it's only because I never wanna say goodbye. Bye.