So what do we get instead?? Indy vs. Boston, a game so mind-numbingly dull that I thought time had stopped (actually it was just Jamaal Tinsley bringing the ball up). Don't get me wrong, Rick Carlisle was a fucking genius slowing the game down to the point of no return like he did, calling a time out every time Boston scored, but I needed like 5 drinks and half a liter of vodka just to get through the game. And of course all I had eaten that day were french fries so by the time the Dallas game rolled around, so was I...on the floor.
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Funny - I had that same expression watching the game.
I got through the first half and then spent the next 12 hours alternately hunched over the toilet (which for me, being the biggest germophobe, is just another reason to throw up) and dry heaving into the trash can by the bed. At 4am, after my Steve Nash epiphany (more on that later), I finally decided I needed to get something in my stomach. I went to get the only thing tolerable when you're hung over - an Egg McMuffin - except that the McDonald's Nazi refused to serve breakfast until 5am. Can you believe that shit?? I explained the situation very patiently to her (starting from Game 1 when Houston beat Dallas up to Indy-Boston and the cause of my predicament) but the bitch wouldn't budge. Either that or she had no idea what I was talking about because I'm 99.9% sure now that she didn't speak a word of English. Anyway, to make a long story not as long, I ended up getting a Happy Meal, eating half the burger, then throwing it up -- all this before brunch with my Grandma and the rest of my family. And how was your Mother's Day?
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