I woke up this morning with a pain in my heart. I couldn’t quite place what caused it, but it was there. So instead of indulging this pain by calling out sick, and moping around the house all day in those super comfy plaid fleece pants, I decided to go to work and go about my day as if the pain wasn’t there. But it was there, oh it was there. I was just in denial, I knew what the pain was, and I knew what caused it. But I was holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. But there I was, 1:30 pm EST in the front conference room at the office in a meeting with clients. My phone buzzed, and when I peered down at my screen it was just as I had feared “Dion Lewis out for season with ACL tear”. At that moment, I let out a primal scream that could only be matched by the sound of my mighty swinging scrotum pounding the inner-thighs of Tehol’s wiz. This is my fate for making light of all you Charles, Bell, and Foster owners in past weeks. In one awkward step a dream was lost, and a little piece of me died. I stand before you jaded and less innocent to life’s unfair twists, than I did a week ago. Now, as we always do, we pickup the pieces, recollect, and hit the wire…
Please, blog, may I have some more?