Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself, My Name is SLIM…S to the L-I-M.Written by: Slim
First and foremost I want to say “I’M SORRY”. Sorry for my long absence from SLIM. Sorry for taking a few months off from my favorite thing to do in the world. Yes, other than getting a hot honey bee wax massage from Jessica Biel, writing about sports is my favorite thing to do, EVER.
Sadly, for the past few months I have been focused on another. Yes, I cheated on my longtime girlfriend. Do I feel good about it? NO! Do I necessarily feel bad? NOT REALLY. Am I excited about it? FU*K YES!
It’s true, I don’t feel great about it, but it was simply time. My old GF was dark, gloomy and always wet. She never won anything, never liked the sun and was 100% into mountain climbing, kayaking and Pho, that weird noodle soup that entertains for at least 31 jokes…”pho-get about it”, “pho’king amazing”, “go phok yourself”. Yes, my old GF was a blast during the summer, but it seems lately that the summer would only last from August 3rd -21st, with the other remaining 350 or so days left for deep, deep seasonal depression.
Yes, you guessed it, my girlfriend was Seattle. Slim has recently left her always drizzly, sun starved, teriyaki making butt for another. But you should see this new one. She looks like Halle Berry in Swordfish…you know that red dress I am talking about, eating that licorice all seductive and sexy like…DELIGHT!
HALLE BERRY, HALLE BERRY!
HALLE BERRY, HALLE BERRY
I am now dating a little piece/place where the beer flows like wine. Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I’m talking about a little place called Los Angeles. I am writing for the first time OUT of the ”206” area code and in the warm confines of my new apartment in Santa Monica. And let me tell you, I am like a little 13 year old Jewish boy opening up gifts during his Bar Mitzvah. And this time, I am not getting a 30 year Israeli Coupon Bond from my Uncle Jerry…
I didn’t mean to cheat, but LA has been giving me the eye for some time now. You know what eye I am talking about…the eye that says, I am ready to party like Charlie Sheen on a Tuesday…the same eye your first girlfriend gave you across the spin the bottle circle even though you just ate the entire bowl of Cheetos…how can I turn my back on that?
It is time to trade in my Patagonia down sweater for a trendy, form fitting T…my umbrella for Ray-Bans. My puffy North Face is now tucked nicely in the closet never to rear its ugly face again. I switched the teriyaki bowl for the taco and enchilada combination plate numero dos…the muddy grass for the sandy beaches the Baywatch girls used to trample all over. (Emphasis on TRAMP, ah ah ah)
With that, I am leaving behind everything Seattle has in the sporting world…FINALLY!
-Goodbye lowly M’s and their utter disappointment year after year. Ladies and gentleman, batting cleanup this year, The Ruthian power hitter Jack Cust. Paging Chone Figgins, paging Chone Figgins, let Seattle know when you want to pay back the 9.5 million you are scheduled to make this year.
-Goodbye Seattle Thunderbirds, Everett Silvertips and hello LA Kings, the NHL and a night of real hockey, fighting and more toothless Russians than Sputnik 13…
-Hello USC Song GIRLS, ENOUGH SAID!
-The one thing I will miss is the crazy smart and respected girls of the Seattle Mist, Lingerie Football League. Why did it take until my mid 20’s for someone to think of this.
I want to keep this short and sweet so I will leave you with one final thought:
Rodney Dangerfield always used to say that his wife and him were happy for over twenty years…THEN THEY MET. Not sure how that applies here, but good and sound advice nonetheless. Till next time diary…