my dumb christmas

coach told us we should all take a two week holiday break from our diaries because only creeps write in diaries during christmas. well believe me taking a diary break was not a problem for ole cj. i had about the dumbest lamest christmas you can imagine.

i thought itd be nice to hang out with the injured guys. so i brought a bunch of thai food to the rehab facility where buike and bwright are doing their thing. thought maybe we could go to a movie or something. when i got there bwright took one look at me and grabbed the bags of thai food out of my hands and slammed the door in my face. when i asked the physical therapists if there was some kind of prank going on they just gave me the finger. even the mormon ones.

so i called an audbile. figured id go back to a vols practice and show the kids a thing or two. but when i got there they wouldnt even let me into the practice facility. the registrar said there was no record of a charles watson ever having gone to that school. and i was like come on even if something happened to my records there must have been other charles watsons just think about the math. you can guess what happened next. stiff cup check from the registrar. to make matters worse his secretary was crouched down behind me and the pain of the cup check made me tumble over her. classic schoolboy trip. they laughed and laughed. i was escorted off campus.

so then i figured fine family it is. went to my aunts house in ann arbor. i bought her a fancy french cookbook and some transformers for her kids. as soon as i get in the door wham. stinging cup check from my little cousin dwayne. aunt sheila and the kids spent most of the afternoon threatening to curbstomp me and i knew they wouldnt but after a couple hours i still peed myself more from exhaustion than fear. hilarity ensued as you can imagine. never heard what sheila thought about the cookbook.

i spent most of new years eve being punched in the face by some diabetic women.

and now 2010 is off to a real dogshit start. im slumping and my individual winning percentage is down to 482 which is still a damn shit better than currys but i guess it doesnt matter because i dont have a gq column or incredible creamy skin. i bet if theyd just traded me to orlando id be killing it right now and have tons of friends and a nice girl to watch movies with. instead im stuck here on a bad team with vladimir radmanovic farting on my head every ten minutes.

a man can only take so much before breaking ive heard it said