I had a dream the other day about returning to Tempe.
In the dream I remember the best part about going back was the increased likelihood of coming across Steve Nash's wife.
So in the dream I make a blog post about how I hope to meet Mrs. Nash upon my return and throw out an idea to her about going to that infamous Hooter's again and maybe confronting the dirty skank who besmirched Mrs. Nash's good name.
Well in the dream, Mrs. Nash reads my blog and agrees to meet me at the bar in hopes of bitch-slapping that Ho.
I go in the hopes of making a new semi-celeb friend, because my attempts with Kristin Cavalleri and Nikki Hilton were complete disasters.
So I go there and of course I bring one of my lawyer friends. I try never to leave the house with out a lawyer, because these days you just never know.I am sitting there in a booth when I spot Mrs. Nash. She looks stunningly Paraguayan. And I shout out to my lawyer friend "There she is! I can't believe she really came!"
My friend and I freak out as Steve Nash's wife makes her way over to us.
"Are you the boy who writes the "things" about me?"
She asks me in perfect English, except for her pronunciation of the word "things" which is totally off. It sounds more like "dings" than "things." But I ignore that, because I was once married to Mexi-can so I can translate Spanglish pretty well.
"Umm..yeah..that was me." I swallow down pretty hard after her question. Looking into her eyes makes me feel small. Her gaze threaten to swallow me up like a photon trapped in the orbit of an intergalactic black hole.
"Is she here?" Mrs. Nash is all business and makes no pretension to small talk. And like all Paraguayanians she is wearing a sequin covered dress. Her lazer beam eyes eat up the scenery, glancing up and down Hooter's finest cleavage, assessing the chance that one of the bimbos currently in focus is the potential adversary.
But my eyes betray me as they glance back towards bar to the left of me.
"She is. That's the one, isn't it?" Mrs. Nash points out the blonde bartender occupying the station just a few yards away.
"Maybe." I admit.
"But you're not gonna do anything are you?"
"Cuz if you are then I ain't gonna tell, cuz I could be held liable, right?" I look over at my lawyer friend for confirmation and hopes that they can use their lawyer skills to de-escalate the situation. But all I get is shrug and a fearful don't get me involved look.
"Gee thanks." I scold away. "You're lawyering skills are straight out of the Art Vandelay School of Architecture."
My tendency to interject Seinfeldian refrences into all my conversations causes me to become a bit distracted from my new BFF. In that meantime Mrs. Nash takes my distraction as an opportunity to go all Karate Chop on little Miss "Take a bite of my burger" barkeep.
It's quite insane the amount of a damage a pissed off Paraguayan wearing a sequin covered dress with a slit can do with a drop kick.
This post is dedicated to the fact that the Suns failed to resign Tim Thomas and quote "I ain't got there back and shit now!" Endquote.