Birthday BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lets go a head and take a moment to wish me a Happy Birthday.

Thank you.

Now let me hit you with some quick awesomeness. I had my first beer in almost a month the friday night. Well techniqually it was Saturday morning, but you get the point.

We went bowling for my birthday. I was really struggling with ideas on what to do since I couldn't black out and all (doctor still has me on booze lockdown). So last minute I decided bowling would have to work (though I hate bowling).

Not a big crowd, but just enough to make me feel appreciated. And that was cool.

Any who, we went to Big Al's, and we bowled. Shocking, I managed to find enjoyment in a sport I hate, without alcohol. I found it through monsterous cups of Mountain Dew. Yes, the old stand by came through again.

Like a solid booty call, Mountain Dew is there whenever you need it. She doesn't get jealous when she hears you've been drinking Pepsi. She doesn't stop answering when her friends saw you at a bar with Jack and Coke. She is good to you wheter you drink it in the morning or in the evening. And tonight was no different. Mountain Dew took care of me tonight. Thanks old friend.

However, Mountain Dew can only go so far when everyone else is getting shitfaced. By the end of the night, I just wanted to taste a beer. Not have one, just taste one. After all, the doctor said no, and I'm trying to get healthy.

But I'm only a man, and a man has needs.

The night started slipping away, and the beers my crew were putting down were starting to mock me. "You know you want us." They would say. I could hear them whisper when I would walk passed Danes pitcher. Girlfriends Long Island Ice Tea would bat her eyes at me when she saw me looking.

I had to have it. I went to sample Danes beer. One sip won't kill me. It won't mess up my liver even more then it is. I'm sure of it. Dane saw what I was doing and he slapped my hand, "No! You have mono, bitch." the hand print on my the top side of my had served as the doctors will. It was as if he was Omnipresent and my buddy Dane was being occupied as his Vessel of Goodhealth Security.

I should've listend to the warning of the slap. But the mono hadn't just effected my liver, it's also depleted my ability to resist temptations. I desired beer, and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to submit to my OWN desires on my birthday.

Dane walked away from his beer. I had a moment, but only a moment, to act. I quickly grabbed the straw from my Mountain Dew, plunged it into the cup of Coors Light (it was Coors Light, no doubt) and sipped. I sipped like a thirsty toddler.

Once it touched my lips...oh so good. A little warm, but so good.

I had to have more.

One friend of mine in attendance is a nurse in training. So I decided to check in with her. After I explained the situation, she informed me that as long as I don't get shitfaced and then do it the rest of the weekend, that I should be fine. It was her theory that the Doctor just assumed that when I asked "can I drink?" it was code for "can I drink lots, and often."

I felt comfortable with that answer, and went on to enjoy three more beers that night.

All in all a great night, and I want to thank everyone who came out (even if I don't know you that well).

Here are some random thoughts about my Birthday and other stuff:

• Girlfriend saw to it that all my good times were paid for. Seriously, she is so awesome it's getting to the point where its going to be awefully hard to replace her. Which is awkward since the lease is up in two months and I had planned on trading her in for a younger model.
• To my friends Michelle and Andy, congratuations on the engagement. It's about time.
• Some of the classic names for the Scoreboard : Dragonslayer was my brother and Rusty Trombone was yours truly.
• Got to watch my girlfriend get hit on relentlessly while posted up at the bar. Never thought I'd actually find enjoyment thought that. But I did. It might have something to do with the fact that she shut these dudes down hard without knowing I was behind her. Again, she's making it hard.
• Uh, Taco Bell's queasadilla is whats going on at 3 am. Put some hot sauce on that and passing out no longer seems like a good idea.
  
  

I am the Monkey from Outbreak.

I feel like the monkey from Outbreak (90's movie reference, suck it). Yes my illness is still running rampant, now people around me are starting to show signs of my illness. Stepmom was just informed last week that she has mono( a week before that, my doctor informed me that I too had Mono). Girlfriend is starting to develop a little rashipoo in the same places that mine started out. Girlfriends roommate was even under the weather with fever and stuff for the last week or so. Sweet.

It's like I have the King Dick Virus and I'm handing out variations of my symptoms to my disciples. Not the way I imagined leaving my mark on this world, but I guess beggers can't be choosers.

On a serious note, I'm really excited about the idea of being healthy again. I've been going to the doctors on and off for a few weeks now. They've taken blood five times. They've given me an ultra sound (Yeah, it's a boy). They've tested me for HIV (again) mono(which came back negative, but they still say I had it) hepatitis A-Z, and all my Liver functions (remember those were the ones that were coming back screwy).

Shit, they've even accused, questioned and tested me for drugs. Twice.

The only rememdy or advise they've given me is no booze, no gym and go buy this expensive medication that we aren't giving you a prescription to so you will stop itching. Even though it has the same functions as Benadryl, the medication I have been using that has shown results in the amount of exactly dick.

Uh, really?!

Actually lets talk about that for a second. They wanted me to get Zyrtec. Which from all accounts is an allergy medicine. I went to WalMart to go buy some the other night, and it was something in the neighborhood 24 dollars for like 18 pills. First of all, no. Second of all, you can suck it if you think my broke self is going to buy that.

Zyrtec protects against: Runny Nose, Sneezing, Itchy-watery eyes, Itching of the Nose or the throat and Nasal Congestion.

Zyrtec Needs to Protect Against (if they want me to spend that kind of money on it): Red polkadot like rash on arms and legs. Unforgiveable levels of itchiness constantly burning all over my body. Huge Hives that pop up on my back. A rash that has formed on, around, and inside the crack of my ass. Just to name a few places.

So imagine my disapointment in where I got my health insurance through, when after yet another sleepless night due to the fact that I was scratching my body till I bled (no joke I have bruises and cuts all over my body from scracthing. I look like a meth addict with good teeth.) they informed me that I should get Zyrtec.

Ok lets recap. At this point, the doctors have taken a guess on what I have ( I call it a guess, because I'm pretty sure they're testing me for other stuff still). But they have told me I have Epstein Barr Virus. Which matches the Mono (that I may or may not have had) and the biblically evil rash (which I do have. That is confirmed). Yet for whatever reason, THEY REFUSE TO SUBSCRIBE ME SOME F**KING MEDICINE TO MAKE THE RASH GO AWAY!!!!

"oh, Mr. Belvin, just take Zyrtec it'll make your rash go away"

"oh it will?! You mean this Benadryl subsitute that does nothing for my symptoms is the best you can come up with?! Really? REALLY!? No. I will NOT take Zyrtec."

"But Zyrtec will help control the itching."

" I don't care about the 'itching'. I care about the rash that make me look like I have Leporsy. I don't want to 'control' the itch. I WANT THE RASH TO GO AWAY. THE WHOLE THING. Give me a f**king steroid or something and make this rash go away. DO YOUR JOB"

It's just stupid.

I've been told lately I've been too negative. That I've been too grumpy. Which in hindsight, I have. I haven't been able to go to the gym, I had to stay sober on my brothers 21st, I haven't felt creative enough to do any writing. I've been annoyed and grumpy. But you would be too if your junk felt like it was on fire. Or if you had an unsatisfiable urge to itch your ass crack all night.

I know I talked about this already in my last blog, but I was sitting here at work and all day, all I could think about was how I would much rather just cheese-grade all my skin off then put up with this shit another day. Look at my words again, I'm serious, this is my serious font.

I can tell you this right now. I have a doctor appointment at 8:50 am tomorrow. I promise you right now, if I don't have a subscription in my hand for something that will let me get on with my life, the leading story on the news will be 'Man freaks out at doctors office, assults three nurses, two doctors and punts a sick baby. More at 10:00'.


Ps. Sorry Stepmom, Girlfriend, and whoever else I have caused to get sick lately. It's not my fault. It's Kaisers for worry too much about my recreational life and not figuring out whats wrong with me.

Pete Carroll Makes my Penis Itch

Welcome to the new year! Like a thief in the night, 2010 is here and 2009. And I can safely say 2010 sucks balls. I guess itches would be more accurate. More on that in a minute.

I haven't been telling tales of Awesomeness as of late simply because life has been crazy. Well that and I've haven't been awesome. And because I'm too self absorbed to share my issues with the world. Or do I share my ideas with the world because I'm self absorbed. Shit.

Never the less, I'm going to stop depriving you all of things I've had to say over the last month. So lets catch you up.

First, I finally became a real man and bought myself a car. It was an ordeal. I can't imagine buying a car being that difficult for everyone, because if it were people wouldn't buy cars. Car buying would be few and far in between. It was not an enjoyable activity for me. I'd compare it to a bad hangover.

When I got the car I felt awesome. Holy Crap! A great car for a (seemingly) low price. Seemingly because I had no idea what was going on. First night no buyers remorse. Second day, after I discussed the deal with the wise sages, I was informed that I got kinda fisted. Do you know whats it like to have a figurative fist up your ass? It's probably not as painful as physically putting a fist up your ass, but it's gotta be close. Then I almost lost a buddy over it. Definitely lost a few dollars. Not the wisest decision. But in the end, the result is the same...DADDY HAS A CAR!

Second was Christmas. Christmas is always a hectic time. Between work, fun stuff and family time, there is no time to sleep. Like at all. I got two families. Mom side, dads side. Christmas is split up into two days. Christmas Eve for mom, Christmas Day for dad. Only this year we added a little wrinkle to the madness....Girlfriends family. Yes, I had to find a way to fit three Christmas' into two days.

There is a happy ending to this story, everyone got to sample the holiday cheer I bring to the table. But by 10 pm Christmas day, after the Blazers had secured a victory over the Denver Nuggets (and a breath taking offensive performance from his Roy-ness) I was crashed out and asleep. Like coma victim sleep. I woke up for work seven hours later actually refreshed and ready to roll.

Actually, I wasn't totally refreshed. Awake yes. But that day I had a monster fuckin headache at work. Which brings us to number 3. The headache lead to me consuming more then the alloted amount of IBProfrin for the day. Estimation 3000 milagram (can't confirm that because I'm pretty sure I consumed it while I was half asleep. All we know is the next day I had chills, a wicked fever and a furious stomach).

So for about a week, my body didn't feel right. Minor fever here, bitchy headache there. Plus I noticed that my legs and been super itchy for a few days...and it was spreading... like to my ass. By New Years day, we had upgraded to headaches that could only be compared to all the worst parts of the Bible and I was throwing up delicious breakfast (no, not a hangover, I was designated driver. Actually, I have a great story to tell about THAT night but out of respect to some of the people involved...I think I'll let it slide).

For the next week and half my day consisted of this: wake up with a headache that made me want to rip out baby's throats. And by the end of the day I had 104 temperature. The Girlfriend would demand everynight that I go see the Doctor. I disagreed. I hate going to the doctors.

After over a week of that shit, I succumbed to The Girlfriends wishes and went and saw the Doctor. Not my normal doctor, but I saw a doctor. This doctor was a little off (I wanted to get in asap so I didn't get to see the same doctor from the 'Clean at Last' blog). It took me a while to notice the doctors possible craziness. In retrospect, I should've picked up instantly when I realized that she looked like a female version of Gary Bussy. For whatever reason my brain didn't attatch the 'could be crazy' tag to this doctor at that time.

So there I am, early in the morning. In comes Bussy. She asks probing questions, looks at my rash on my back and stomach. Pulls my pants down a little bit to examine it on my ass. A little alarming, because she could've just asked and I would've pulled them down. The little tug sent me straight in rape pervention mode.

After a piss test, chest x ray, and 7 viles of blood all Gary Bussy could tell me was that I did NOT have Bacterial Meningitis. Her explanation about how she came to this conclusion was a little troublesome. She joked, "I know you don't have Bacterial Meningitis because if you did, you'd be dead.HAHAHHAAHA" Awesome. Upon further review, she might've been crazier then Gary Bussy.

The Forth thing,which strangely was the biggest head scratcher of all my moments was finding out the Seahawks had fired Jim Mora after one season. Then turned aaround and hired Pete Caroll over the course of a three day span.

Lets review. Jan 8th, Jim Mora is told to look for a new job. Later that day it is reported early favorite is Pete Carroll (who IS NOT running from possible punishment from the NCAA for players from his Juggernaut title teams seemingly being paid to play college football. Don't even question his motives for getting back into the NFL). Pete initially responds saying he 'isn't very interested in the position'. Jan 9th, it's reported on ESPN that Pete and the Seahawks are "very close to a deal".

Confused yet?! Good, I'll keep going.

Jan 11th Seahawks and Carroll agree to a five year deal to bring his act back to the NFL (again, not running from NCAA and the spanking he was sure to recieve).

Couple things to bring up:
1. Pete already tried the NFL. He wasn't good. He got fired from the Jets after one year and 6-10. Then he un-successfully took over the Patriots(the season after they made the Superbowl under the Big Tuna) and within three seasons had them missing the playoffs and yes, got fired. His three seasons coaching in Foxboro, 27-21 (0-2 in the playoffs).

2. Was this the quickest negotiations ever?! This tells me a few things. One, Paul Allen really had a boner for the idea of Pete being available. Two, Pete Carroll must've really wanted back in the NFL (again, not because he didn't want to have his hands tied while recruiting. It was simply for love of the game and competition).

3. We tied our hands when hiring Mora, and not allowing us to persue Gruden, Shanahan, or Cower. Surely we would take a little time and persue some of the proven NFL guys if Mora didn't work out right? I mean, RIGHT!? Nope the only other guy who got an interview was Leslie Frazier. And the only reason that happened was because the NFL has rules demanding that you interview atleast one black dude.

So even though Cower and Gruden were still available, we decided to over pay for a college coach who was pleading for a way out of USC, even though he has been a shitty coach in the NFL already?! Good move guys.

I don't like this move. I'm not thrilled about the direction. Mora deserved another year or two. It wasn't his fault this team blew. Something just doesn't smell right here, and the whole thing makes me feel uncomfortbale.

Well, more so then the rash thats already taking over my ass.

Wait, Pete Carroll? WHY!?!

Oden injured again ( thoughts from the Night of, and the day after)

I'm searching for words to say. I haven't given tonight's happenings enough time to process. It's probably going to come out in the form of disorganized babble and make no sense to anyone after I publish it. Fuck it, I need some therapy now.

4 minutes 15 seconds into tonight's game against the Rockets and we watched out season get kicked in the balls. Greg Oden, who I have defended and hyped up so much over the last year that I should be on payroll as his publicist. No exaggeration here, but I would bet no one has been in more near fights about him then I. I am literally the Flava Flave to his Chuck D.

This season, we watched him make such a big strides towards justifying his selection as the first overall pick in the 07 draft. He transformed from an awkward foul machine, which he was so often last season to this year, simply becoming a presence. Defensively, you feared him and his ability to challenge any shot. He cleans glass like he as o.c.d. I'm positive he play's with a travel-sized bottle of windex in his shorts. And lately he began to make you pay for sleeping on him offensively, displaying an array of low post moves as well as often throwing down rather aggressive statement dunks. Tuesdays game recording a 13 point, 20 rebound 4 block performance against the Heat. Ladies and gentlemen, Greg Oden had arrived.

Or not. At the 7:45 mark in the first quarter, defending an Aaron Brooks drive to the hoop, Greg Oden broke his knee cap. HIS FUCKING KNEE CAP.

Poor dude. I actually feel twisted up over this. And not because my favorite basketball team just lost it's starting Center for the season. I'm twisted up because he is by all accounts a good dude. Everything I've read and everything I've heard (friends of friends kind of scenerios, but from multiple sources) have him pegged as genuine dude.

He worked hard to get back from the last injury. It was hard physically as well mentally. Not only was he coming back from an injury (microfracture surgery) that takes almost two years to get back to normal from, but he had to deal with all loads of negative shit from the press. Everywhere he went he had to hear about how he is Sam Bowie 2.0 and how the TrailBlazers once again made a mistake with their first round pick of a center.

Lets cut the bull shit and get the facts straight. The man deserved to be the number 1 pick that year. He led the Ohio State Buckeyes to the National Title Game with a broken shooting hand. Yes he played his Freshman year shooting (and shooting well) with a BROKEN SHOTING HAND. He was the best 18, the best Center in college Basketball, and he was making due by making everyone look stupid with his left hand.

We drafted him, because we had Brandon Roy, LaMarcus Aldridge, Martell Webster, and Travis Outlaw already. Also this was the draft when we pulled out Rudy Fernandez. If you're telling me with a franchise center in Greg Oden or another skinny perimeter player, that you're going to take yet ANOTHER perimeter player?!? Not if you value your job. Greg Oden was the perfect fit for this team and the right pick. You don't watch basketball if you think I'm wrong in this one.

Now whats happened to him since this has just been unfortunate. The injury he sustained takes two years to come back. If you don't believe me, I have mountains of evidence proving you wrong and is the subject of my favorite argument. Greg Oden rushed back so he could play ball. Both him and the Blazers were wrong. We should've eased him back. The pressure was intense and his body wasn't ready. Again, if you think I'm wrong go read about Amare Stoudimire. See how long it took him to come back.

Last year sucked because he wasn't ready. But this year, this year we saw what he could be. Monster dunks, ridiculous blocks, game changing rebounder. He was developing into what we drafted. Then he got struck again by the injury bastard.

I can't imagine what it's like trying to be an athlete these days. In this, the age of Internet where we have constant blogs, podcasts, 24/7 radio and tv shows devoted to sports, everything an athlete does is dissected on their shows (it's hard to fill up 24 hours of programing). Even if it's a stretch to find the relevance.

"Today Brandon Roy ate a Egg Salad Sandwich and jerked off at noon. Unfortunately his wife had gone Christmas shopping and he needed to relax before the game. Lets hope it pays off. Now back to you Guy in the Studio."

(I was done writing after that. From here on was written the morning after)

The Talking Heads are so much louder then they were in the 80's and early 90's. IF the draft bust talk in the 80's would've been heard at a low mummer, the 90's it would've been heard with what would be considered "outside voice" volume ( you know, that is if you were still in Grade School). Now, it's full fledged Rock Concert volume. He will not be able to ignore it. He's gonna have to use it. Use it to get motivated, Greg.

One bright side is that as painful as a broken knee cap sounds it's not damning. In 2005, Washington Wizards Forward Jarvis Hayes did the same thing. After trying to play on it afterwards was proven a bad call, he sat out from February to the end of the season. But had a full recovery and played everygame except one for the next two seasons. It can be done.

As shitty of a time for this to happen, this isn't worse case scenario. I think he believes that too. Here is a quote from him after the game, " I'm obviously disappointed having worked so hard to get where I was. This is a setback, but I'll be back. It's in God's hands now."

And if anyone is bouncing back from an injury like this, it's Greg. Shit, he's done it before.

The best Basketball player, ever.

When I was 15 I made the declaration that I would enter into the NBA draft straight outta High School. Unfortunately, this eventually turned into my moms second favorite running joke, right behind my self given Indian name 'Mowing Slave'.

It was one of those things you say kind of serious, but when you see the reaction (in this case people shitting themselves trying to top the last person in a 'loudest most obnoxious' laugh contest, while I sit there grinning trying not to cry) you pretend that you said it to get a good chuckle out of people. Then when no one is looking, you turn around and wonder out loud if anyone will miss you if you were to drop a plugged in toaster into your bath later on that night.

But after last night, my friends, I am the Lone Ranger when it comes to laughing at my jokes.

You see what happened last night started out as just a friendly game of '21' before my work out. Again, it only started out as friendly. It transformed into an over competitive display of raw athletic ability and served as my coming out party as a deadly marksman from behind the arc.

If you aren't familiar with the rules of '21,' first and foremost, shame on you. But if you don't, they are simple you play basketball against atleast two other people, acting as every man for himself. You make a basket, whether it be a '2' or a '3' you get freethrows. If you missed shot gets tipped in by an opponent you lose all your points. If your point total ever ends up a '13,' or ends up higher then '21' you start back at 0.

Now that you're familiar here is the recap of the game: My buddies Weezy and Chaz were taking advantage of me being a little under the weather but at the same time, taking turns tipping in their shots and consistently keeping a 0 score.

During this time I had no energy to drive to the hoop, and wasn't hitting my jumper. Any time I decided to take it to the hoop, Weezy sent it away effortlessly. It was not looking to go my way.

After twenty minutes of play, and one such blocked shot by Weezy, something inside me snapped. The preverbal monkey was tired of being pissed on and there was no banana to satisfy my blood lust. Over the following twenty minutes I hit 11 threes and scored over 40 points (21 is a cruel game) including a Dwayne Wade esk, game winning up and under.

It didn't matter if it was wide open, one on one, or two on one I was hitting everything. Fall aways, runners, jumpers, they were all falling. I imagine it was like watching a baby's conception.

I was f***ing magical.

So as it still might just be a joke about me entering the NBA draft, what's not a joke is my game. I seriously might be the greatest white non NBA player ever.

Lets relive that previous statement so we can understand the magnitude. "Greatest white non NBA player EVER!!!" Ever? Yes, Ever. And if you would've seen me playing last night, you wouldn't hesitate to stand by my claims.

Allen Iverson is known as the Answer, Paul Pierce is the Truth. From here on out, Andrew Belvin is the Proclamation.

Chalk it up.

Venting about the Natural

I wasn't going to write about this, I just couldn't get myself to do it. Then after a nice hour and half work out/soul searching session at the gym I decided it was my civic duty to get my thoughts out there. It was quickly decided against when I came home and opted to play video games.

Fast forward to three in the morning and I can't fucking sleep. It needs to be said. I need to get something off my chest. I must warn you, it's heavy.

Brandon Roy, my favorite basketball player (neigh, my favorite athlete), is being a giant vag and is really starting to piss me off.

That was really hard for me. Lets take a second and regroup...Alright, I'm ready to continue.

Lets break down my frustration. First things first, my Portland Trailblazers are playing terrible basketball. Lately, they have been round house kicked three consecutive games, including two at home. Two of these three loses have been absolute ass beatings. They have now lost four games in the Rose Garden this season (they lost seven ALL SEASON last year).

We are struggling offensively. Our bench severely misses Travis Outlaw (out with a broken foot for 3 to 5 months). Travis came in off the bench and gave our second unit it's juice. Now our second unit comes in and just shits on the tempo. The last three nights these guys couldn't score on a team of autistic midgets. If the juice Travis provided was Tropicana Orange Juice, then the juice the bench is bringing now is like some generic artificial Orange flavoring. And let me tell you, that tastes like ass.

The other problem, and the one that is becoming the most frustrating is with my homeboy, and one of the possible namesake of my unborn son, Brandon Roy ( the other being Shawn Michaels). Brandon, a two time all star and the unchallenged king of Portland is struggling this season to get his shit going. Despite having a 42 point game earlier in the season Brandon needed 25 points in tonight's latest loss, just to even out his average at 20 ppg.

The team and Brandon don't seem to be on the same page, and it's uncomfortably noticeable.

Recent reports have Brandon mentioning his frustrations and highlighting Portlands need for a offensive "pecking order" which would seemingly involve less involvement from Portland's free agent acquisition Andre Miller and prospective franchise center Greg Oden.

The Miller thing I can understand. No one thought these two were going to play well together. They both require the ball in their hands at all times and they both need to drive to the hoop to get their points. This was not a relationship destined to work. However, the Oden thing is a little troubling. Oden, who scored 13 points tonight and grabbed 20 rebounds tonight ( 11 of which offensive boards) gets most of his points from clean up work, is not what you would call the crucial part of the offense. Nor does he appear to be trying to be that guy right now.

Oden isn't demanding the ball right now. So if Roy is having a problem with Odens point totals maybe he needs to watch some game tape. Alot of the big mans touches are coming from the little mans mistakes. Case and point, Roy drove the lane tonight, threw up some twisty, 'I'm trying to draw a foul' lay up (didn't get the call) and missed the layup. Only instead of the ball falling into the other teams possession, Mr. Oden deposited it for 2 of his 13 in highlight fashion. Translation: Roy missed a poor lay up attempt, and Oden dunked the mistake home. Saving everyones face.

So what the hell is the deal?!

This whole thing becomes even more of a stomach punch when you start adding in the fact that for the first time since Zach Randolph's huge contract (and ass) took off, this team doesn't seem to be clicking.

Roy wants a pecking order. Ok, I can dig that. A young team needs order. Roy is tired of the 'sacrafices' he is making for this team, while none of his other teammates seem to be following suite (check out Dwight Jaynes blog here: http://www.dwightjaynes.com/brandon-roy-and-his-sacrifices). If we read beneath the surface he is clearly worried about the point totals and amount of shots (points= all star appearances). The only thing I'm having a hard time figuring out is why he isn't getting the shots or the points he thinks he is being robbed out of. HE TOUCHES THE BALL EVERYTIME DOWN THE COURT. He can shoot whenever he wants to.

There has been many games this season where the Blazers have practically begged Roy to step up, earn his paycheck and take over the scoring load. Games where we have come out and laid an egg offensively as a team, and could really use that All-Star push that we got last year from him (think the Suns game where he dropped 52 in a come from behind win against the Suns). There have been a many games where we could've used him flipping into 'eff you mode' and take it over. We could've used offensive explosions out of him, like for example in games like the last three losses. It seems like the only one thinking that he needs to be this un-selfish playmaker is himself.

Brandon Roy is the leader of the offense. The pecking order is set. No one is going to question it. No one will question him if he shoots the ball (as long as he is making them at an acceptable pace). Who has told him to not be selfish? That doesn't make sense. We pay him to be our All Star! (again, points=all stars)

Brandon, we are BEGGING you to be more selfish. Not Iverson-like, but definitely someone deserving of a max-contract. Be the leader. Make the pecking order how you see fit. You're the highest paid player, you're the only All-Star, you're coach McMillians on-court assistant, and you're the freaking King of Portland. Stop bitching and get aggressive. If you don't want to swing the ball then don't. No one will kill you for that. Drive that ball. Just make sure if you don't knock it down that you're getting to the line. Because I'm sick of seeing these 9-25 with only 5 FTA box scores.

If you want to be king dick you better start playing like it.

And if playing with Andre Miller is bugging you that much just pretend his is Pryzbilla and forget he is on the court. ( and if that doesn't work you could always have him killed, I mean you did sign a max deal).

ClinicallyAwesome is 1 year old

It's a happy day to be Clinically Awesome. One year. One whole year I've been babbling blog style and sodomizing your minds with my words. Yes, this is big time.


One year ago I wrote about the "safety" game, posting my first blog outside of my myspace and started an internet revolution. It's been called the biggest thing to happen to the internet since Janet Jackson's titty fell out. You hear that mom?! I'm bigger the Janet Jacksons titty! Seriously, step up take a bow, you should be proud.

Basically, I've made it.

Don't worry, I haven't allowed all my success to go to my head. Sure, i have my moments but whats the point of being an undeserving celebrity if you're not taking advantage of some of the perks?! Plus, who is turning down a sexual throw down with Kim Kardashian in a Womens bath room stall of a TGIFridays? Not this guy, thats who.

Other then a few altercations and purchases I've kept a pretty stable head on my shoulders. No diva fits here. Unless you count the incident in July when I was speaking at a writers convention in Tulsa. This little pole smoker of a man who was hosting the event knew damn well to have a bowl full of blue M&M's ready for my enjoyment. So what did I have waiting for me? Green M&M's. Green? Really? Someone needed to learn his colors, and foot is a perfect instructor. He had beautiful shades of blues and purples on his dome after class.

The thing that has been hard to get used to is how people react to me now. I wish they'd treat me like they did before I launched the site, but I guess it's hard when I have people like the Cast of Tv's The Big Bang Theory consuming my written word.

Ok, lets face it. I'm pretty much a big deal.

Speaking of Celebs lets find out what some of them have been saying about this site over the year:

Jessica Alba, " Everytime I read this site I remember what my first orgasm felt like." Yes, yes she does.

50 Cent, " This shit blows me away like gun shots." He should know, he got shot nine times.

Tom Brady, " Sometimes I read this on the road, when I'm away from my wife and kid. No matter what happened that day it brings a smile to my face." You're welcome Tom. Now stop losing me money.

John Cena, " Me and the boys of the WWE get a big kick out of this site everytime it's updated. Keep it up, man" Uh, John this isn't for you. This is awkward, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stop reading.

But for the rest of you, thanks for reading. I appreciate it. Keep on doing it and I'll keep on writing it.

Peace.