Thighography | Sharapova's Thigh

Thighography

Posted by Poorly Acquitted | 7/10/2009 04:00:00 PM | , , ,

It's time that I spent a little quality time with you, our readers. A fireside chat if you will. And I will. Athankyouverymuch.

I'm concerned that you, our loyal fans, have been duped. You have been duped by the worst kind of con-man. His name: Matthew Clapp. I just want you to sit back and ask yourself: I've been reading this guy's work for almost 18 months now, can I trust him? Would I let him babysit my kids? I have kids...???...

Before you get all hot and bothered let me assure you of three things:
1.) For those of you don't understand sarcasm via the written word, take notes.
2.) All three of these stories are true.
3.) No Matt these do not reflect poorly upon you, but they are funny as hell.

The first time I met Matt Clapp was at Sunday School / Youth Group when we were in 6th grade. I'll never forget that night. Matt had just walked in wearing a Cubs dugout jacket. I said to myself, "Who's this momma's boy wearing the uncool Cubs jacket?"

Allow me to translate what those words mean when coming from a 6th grader. Momma's boy is about the worst insult a 6th grader can give. You get called a momma's boy on the playground and you're telling the recess lady. Either that or dropping into a sobbing puddle of goo on the ground. It's true, I didn't discover awesome insults like nutbag, fuckface, doucher, retard or prick until at least 7th grade.

Translation number 2: By uncool I actually meant, that is the coolest thing I've ever seen. I wish my parents were awesome enough to buy me a dugout jacket.

Trustworthy? Keep reading.

Fast forward to the next summer. Matt and I are on the same baseball team. Clapp was a really skinny kid growing up. And by really skinny I mean makes Kate Moss look like Fat Albert. So it should come as no surprise that the first time Matt strapped on his new uniform he was THAT kid. You all know him, you've all met him. If you grew up playing ball you knew a kid just like him.

He was the kid with the banana cup.

This thing went on for miles. It was hilarious. Half of us (and by us I mean only the rest of the team) couldn't even pop boners at that point, but we knew that penises were funny. Here is an artist rendering:
How can you trust a man in a banana cup?

Around the same time Matt and I were also playing basketball together. I've never seen anybody as obsessed with Jordan sneakers as Matt. This year was no exception. It was the first full season of MJ's comeback. He had the Air Jordan XIIs:


Surprise to none, Clapp was sporting those kicks that season. He was looking really stylish on the court. That's great and all, but nothing can protect you from the isolation of the free throw line.

Yes we were caught up in a fierce bout with a team wearing Tennessee Volunteer orange jerseys. Matt calmly stepped to the line for some free throws that we desperately needed. As per usual, I was at the end of the bench.

Matt goes through the normal free throw routine, bends the knees, rises up to release the shot and

PPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.

It actually happened. The shot didn't go in, but we now had the psychological advantage over the orange team. Nobody wanted to guard the farting kid.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack from laughter.

So do you trust this man? Do you feel safe reading his blog?

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