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Fists with your toes

So, it's last Thursday night, and we arrive at the American Airlines Center in Dallas. We're just three dumb schmoes, but we're three dumb schmoes holding VIP passes. It's a preseason game, but so what? Dallas seems to be Mavericks-crazy at the moment, and the arena's pretty much full. The usher leads us down to our section, which might more accurately be called the center-court media table---except that, well, it actually was the center-court media table, right on the floor. Some guy with a press pass was sitting in one of our seats. These seats were about five feet from the Mavs' bench, in a general area called the "Rosin Powder/Bubble Gum Bowl Nexus." The guy would not relinquish the seat, seeing as he was in fact a press member. But that all changed when our guy, the usher, told him, "Oh no. Your seat is back [pointing afar] there."

Dumb schmoes, 1. Press, 0. Bang! Zoom!

Eh, like your care. Or I do.

Anyway, I doubt you even care about my trip. Why would you? I'll be brief and say that I saw Pops Mensah-Bonsu play a little ball. He went to GW and---I don't know if you know this---so did I.

* * * *

While I was gone, nothing seemed to happen. The team still doesn't have a manager. Alfonso Soriano reportedly rejected a contract offer, but the team denied this, so officially it didn't happen, I suppose. Randy St. Claire was brought back for next season, but he didn't go anywhere in the interim. Like I said, nothing happened.

Kind of dull.

Well, have I got the cure for that funk! A survey! Please fill it out. They said they'd break my thumbs if you don't.

Actually, maybe you don't find much motivation in seeing my thumbs preserved. Scratch that. If you fill out the survey, then they'll see to breaking my thumbs. Better?

Just fill out the survey already!!!111!!!!