Srsly guyz, lissen up. Iz all true.
So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I’m a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald… striking. So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one – big hitter, the Lama – long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the 18th and he’s gonna stiff me. And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.” And he says, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.” So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
Also, do either of you guys have any idea how I can guard Hedo or Rashard? Cause I sure don’t. In fact, the deeper into the lineups the Finals go, the worse it looks for us. And, Dwight Howard is enormous. I dislike that.
Have you seen my dad? No? Cool, thanks for looking. Anyone seen my kitten? Hey, why are the Magic shooting 48% from 3? Is weird, right?
