3 v. 3 Janet Reno

Start the day with eggs.  Go ahead.  Okay, done.  Coffee.  Got it.  Bike down to the park.  Okay, I'm here.  Play some goddamn basketball.  Right now?  I'm super hungover, though.  That's okay, it'll help.  Alright.  

And so we played.  Three games of three on three in the middle of Melbourne.  It was good.  There was one portly gentleman, dwarfish in nature, with a quintessential Australian ponytail up-do.  He could shoot and understood the game fairly well.  There was a skinny man who refused to pass the ball, which was fine.  I was there to sweat.  It didn't bother me, at all, that he wouldn't pass that damned European ball.  Even when I was sitting patiently, wide open at that Euro three-point line, waiting.  It didn't bother me.  Really.  

After retiring from the game, I sauntered over to the footie field to try my luck at kicking a few.  They say the technique is to kick the nose of it so that it goes into a backwards tailspin.  "More accurate that way," they say.  

My technique was a bit simpler.  Kick it high and far.  Straight?  Well, when convenient.  

After the footie kick, I jimmy-jazzed my way over to the botanical gardens for an early afternoon jog...I believe it's pronounced yawg.  That was nice.  It was.  Even though I was wheezing from all the rolled cigarettes, my head was pounding from all the Victoria Bitter, and I was generally dehydrated, I enjoyed the jog through the botanical gardens.  I did.  It was beautiful.  

Anyway, I felt better after all the activity.  Better enough to start drinking again, which is exactly what we did.  My friend was playing a show with his band a little divey hotel (pub) and so we walked over to his place to play Chinese dice in preparation for the event.  

Chinese dice is essentially Liar's Poker, dice version.  Good game.  Try it.  Oh, I'll teach you.  

The show was vundebar.  I saw a fat man play a beautiful guitar, and I also saw another man with a bowl cut and hanging earring that would have given Janet Reno (Will Ferrell version) a run for her knickers.   

We did it.  We did it all.  

The would be Easter Sunday, but that's for tomorrow. 

More later, as always. 

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