Everything in today's update is true. Not necessarily funny, but true nonetheless. I really did throw the ball that high over the backboard, and I still have no clue what my coach was trying to accomplish when she had me jump into that pole. She felt bad about the whole thing, and let me sit on the bench for pretty much the rest of the season. Without my considerable talents on the court, our team won only one game that year when a rival school failed to show up. We had a pizza party and everything, it was great.
Today's update and Daily Dirt are rather short because I didn't have a whole lot of time, which is completely my fault. It's too bad because I sort of like the article and think it could have been really good if it covered more ground and weren't so choppy. I've only written about myself once before when I had that cancer scare (update: I'm not dead), so it was a rather nice change to write a much more lighthearted piece in which I only suffered severe facial trauma.
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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