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.

The Director of Paranormal Activity can lick my butt

This weekend the girlfriend, the girlfriends roommate and I went and saw Paranormal activity. For those of you who don't get out much, it's about a young couple dealing with a haunted San Deign (?) house. It has the same low quality feel that made the Blair Witch project what it was a decade ago. And it is scary.

Scratch that. That movie is scarier then shit.

I haven't been scared by a movie like that since I was a Junior in High School (the movie was the Ring. The movie had me screaming helpful advise at the screen like, "RUN, BITCH RUN". Sadly, Naomi Watts didn't listen to my advise, and the girls I was with remained un impressed. I digress). The Ring ruined my shit. At the time, my parents were in China adopting my second sister, and my old buddy Jobany and I took these two blondes to go see a scary movie (good idea right? Usually speaking, yes, but in this case if the movie makes you scream like a bitch then no. Not a good move).

After the movie, me and Jo (yes, just me and Jo) went home. I walked into my parent house and low and behold my dads big screen tv was. It wasn't doing the static-y sound that implied danger in 'the Ring' but for only seeing that movie 30 minutes prior and having my parents be out of the country, that was as close as it needed to be.

Needless to say, sleep was not had that night. Nor was it had on Saturday night. I thought I had grown out of the "scary movies ruin me" thing. I guess I haven't.

I think I can speak for all three of us when I say, I thought that movie was going to be gayer then two men doing it to the 'over the rainbow' song on loop. Trying to spice up the evening, we decided to go out and get a few drinks in before the movie.

It was like an ambush. None of us knew what we were about to whiteness. That movie would've done the trick had we been sober, and we weren't. The creators of this movie(first time writer and director Oren Peli) is a sick, sick bastard, and that is all I need to say about that.

Girlfriend and Girlfriends Roommate were so scared after the movie, that they refused to go home. They decided they wanted to go to a bar (only thing really open after midnight around here). I had to work the next day, so I put the kabosh on that idea for me (yes, I'm maturing).

I opted to go home and try to sleep. My brother had a few buddies over and after I showed up we began to talk about the movie-which spawned the worst conversation for a drunk kid to have before bed- a conversation about weird, un explainable shit that has happened to either us or someone we know. After a few stories of the paranormal, I decided sleeping in my room was not an option for the rest of the night. I went grabbed my pillow and my blanket and laid it right in the middle of the living room.

"Dude, we're gonna be gaming." My brother said (implying they were going to be loud).

"I don't give a shit. I'm not sleeping in that room tonight." And I didn't.

GF and GFR were worse off then I was. Where I was fine the next day, they didn't even sleep the next day, and GF hasn't been able to sleep right unless I've been there all week.

So this weekend, if you and your Special Lady Friend are trying to decide what movie you're going to see just remember this, 'Paranormal' ruins lives.

For at least the week.

status update 2

I'm off today, thank God. Work has been kickin my ass from end to end lately, and I'm so thankful the weekend came when it came. Lately, I've been super stressed. My mind has been off As you can tell by the disturbing lack of up dates on this thing.

My bad.

I've had a few little ideas to write the last week or so, but never have my computer with me and never the motivation to get those ideas written out when I do have a computer.

So they're coming. Just chill.

In the mean time, here is a poster documenting my professional wrestling career.

Ramblings: Red October

I'm at Sarah's new place right now waiting for her and Michael ( her brother) to come back with a couch. Yup, currently all I'm armed with is a lap top and pirated internet ( no tv, no place to sit, I'm laying on the floor) so I'm going to do some rambling for the first time in a bit. I hope you're all wearing your sexy panties...

• Last couple weeks have been a real bitch, especially at work. I started taking the bull shit people dish at me personally and it really started to screw with my chi.
• I'm currently wearing boxers that could've used an extra couple minutes in the dryer. My ass feels like I just got done doing 20 minutes on the tredmill (no, I don't actually know what 20 minutes feels like)
• A few months back I began purchasing and re-watching the Sopranos. I forgot how much of an asshole Tony is. I find it incredible that I could feel any sympathy for a man that evil. But I do. I care about him as much, if not more, then I could for ANY protagonist. And that my friends, is the DEFINITIVE example of a good character.
• I want be Hayden Panettiere's Gynecologist. (Just in case you need a reminder...)

• The Trail Blazers regular season opens up in 10 days. I feel as confident in this team as I ever have with ANY of my teams in the past. It should be an exciting regular season. In a related story, I have still NEVER washed my Brandon Roy Jersey.
• Tomorrow is TNA Wrestlings flag ship PPV 'Bound For Glory'. I'm not afraid to admit I love wrestling. If you don't you can suck it. In fact, in celebration of BFG '09, I'm going to hit a woman and grow a mullet.
• Dallas Cowboy fans are annoying. They make me want to fashion a shiv with my own tooth brush then use it on myself. Hara-kiri is a better way to die then listen to them ramble about Tony Romo.
• I gotta take a dump. Be Right Back.
• Ok so I went and shit out today Enchilada I got from Azteca, and sure enough no TP in the crib. This might the thing that up sets me the most. I remember one time we ran out of TP at my apartment and I found out that instead of buying TP while I was gone the boys just used MY BOXERS. In case you're wondering I wiped my ass with un naturally rough paper towels. My anus is less then thrilled.
• Speaking of huge dumps, I took one today at Nordstroms in Westfield Mall that was so foul that the person who went in after me was probably given free shit.
• Mexican grub is worse on my stomach and bowels the booze. Chalk it up.

Well I hear the load of furniture pull in so I'm going to bounce. Maybe it won't be a week and half before the next one.

Peace.

Just Saying Bye

I remember when I was kid whenever we'd drive through Woodland, we'd make the rounds. "This is where your dad lived." "This is where mom lived" and of course "this is where we got married." Everytime. In that order.

As weird as it sounds, as I got older, I began to appreciate the nostalgic stories and mini dives into someones history (I use to not like them very much. The exception, as usual, is my Grandpa Tom. I've always loved listening to his stories. Still do. If you ever get the privilege of talking to him, just get him talking about the things he did when he was younger. Would make a great movie).

As I got older, I stopped making weird faces in the back seat and began to actually listen to the stories my parents would tell me. They were cool in their own way. And as I got more and more interested, I felt myself being able to actually imagine what it would be like when I got to take my kids around to tell them MY stories.

Stuff like "this one time a janitor found toy guns in my car while I was in gym class... that didn't go well". Or how about "This is where me and your uncle Jobany used to skip school and go eat breakfast." You know what, I don't want my kids to be criminals so I won't be telling them those stories.

But I do know what story I would tell them. I wanted to take them to the end of Childs Road, right before it turns to Orchards, stop at the last house on the right and say, "this is where I grew up. " Point to the front yard and be like "your Grandma Peggy beat the shit out of me with a broom on Thanksgiving right there. Me and your uncle Jesse use to play whiffle ball right here." Sneak them to the back yard and point to the pool, "I use to make myself feel really cool by having the older High School Cheerleaders come swim there."

Unfortunately after last night, I won't get to do that.

A fire started at my house (of course we don't occupy that place anymore, everyone lives in Vancouver right now, and my Mom has been trying to sell it) and burnt the place to the ground.

(unrelated note: it's becoming a trend to tell me bad news while I'm waking up/ or before I do wake up. I'd like to change this. I propose if it's bad news, but someone isn't dying (like the story about the death of my xbox or this) can we write it down, or send it in text form, so I can handle it when I'm emotionally right and ready? I don't think this will be difficult)

No official word on what caused the fire. From what my mom has said, whiteness have called it quite a spectacle though. Something about huge fire balls (again I was asleep, details a bit fuzzy to me right now). Oh well, At least it was entertaining :(. (Yes I put a frowny face).

I never even imagined this was possible. Me, with my hyper active imagination, has never prepared a scenario where I would lose the house where I grew up. Last time I was in White Salmon, it was there. Now it is not. All those years of memories are now served extra crispy.

So now when I'm taking Brandon Roy Belvin and Shawn Michaels Belvin back to where dad grew up, we don't get to go down the old street, and look at the last house on the right. We won't be looking at the house I grew up in. We won't get to hear stories of one handed catches, and whiffle ball. We'll probably be looking at a house, but it'll be foreign. It won't be mine.

That sucks.

I feel really sad right now. I haven't lived in that house for 5 years now. My dad moved out after he split up with my mom, and she left a year and a half ago. I know there was another family ready to buy it from my mom. But that is still where I grew up. I don't care if I haven't lived there for 2 months or 2o years, I grew up there. I shaved for the first time in that house. I had Christmas joy, and high school heart break-all in that house. I went from playing X-Men with Jesse, Jonny, Dane and Heather to learning to masturbate( that was a solo thing. Jesse, Jonny, Dane and Heather were not involved) - in that house.

So this is goodbye 1501 Nw Childs Rd. We had some times, but now you're gone. I'll never forget you.

And when it comes to me getting nostalgic when I'm 50... well, at least I still got the gun story.