Sure, the Cubs got drubbed by the Diamondbacks today (13-5), which made part of the day go for naught; 'twas productive, nonetheless.
Last night: Basketball. I was hot. I mean, my shot was hot. You know, like, I shot really good and stuff (B.A. in English, folks...yikes). I've decided that I shoot decidedly better when I wear my orange Nikes--as opposed to my black Adidas' with the interchangeable color stripes. They're some ugly sneaks, but were free and as much as I like to look cool (read: attempt), I like raining Js better. So guess what I'll be rocking again tonight? Yup.

Moving on...I'd like to send a shout out to my good friend Britani Bruster. She's seriously the only person who lets me talk about me (about my ridiculous crushes on "forbidden girls"--her words--and otherwise). Sometimes, it's actually a little frustrating because she's stubborn and never wants to talk about herself--but that's an OK problem to have with a friend, I suppose. *chuckle*
My first song on here this time around is officially dedicated to all the people (girls in particular) who just like to rant on and on, after a quick hello to 'Derrick the Doormat' and don't even ask how I'm doing or what's up with me.
Don't get me wrong, I like being that guy who people/girls can go to with their problems. But seriously...always? I mean switch gears once in awhile at least, goodness. Or don't, it's whatever...
Funny thing: Most girls have NO idea they're even doing it--while they're doing it. So yeah, thanks Brit. :)
Whew. Sorry y'all. Soapbox section is now completed. In fact, been sidetracked by various conversations and whatnot, so this whole blog is now completed. Time to play some ball. Again. See you soon.
Fake right, go left, fade back, shoot the 3,
Derrick