I rank about second to last on the list of people you should ask about sports. I spent most of my childhood hiding in my classroom to avoid the embarrassment that generally ensued when I touched anything round. Though I am not a huge sports follower, I would have to be living in the peruvian jungle with these fuzzy friends (Yes, that is in fact a GIANT spider eating a chicken. This has become a recent obsession) to not have been hit with a bit of Jimmermania.
Even my die hard U of U fan family has acknowledged the supreme abilities of Jimmer Fredette. I even saw a Jimmer collage tucked under my cousin Matt's bed the other day. Seriously. You should ask him about it :)
(This is Jimmer's #1 fan and I right before we got Hurt in the Dirt. Yeah Team Milk! Here we come 2011)
Anyway, during a glorious nap on Wednesday, I had a dream that went a bit like this
I walk into the Marriott Center and Jimmer sidles up to me
. We converse for a bit about how he gets more famous by the second and he expresses his desire for me to become more famous so we can continue being the great friends that we are. He then challenges me to try and shoot a basket or two with him. I humor him and throw the lamest shot known to mankind and then... my pants fall down. Jimmer expresses his concern at seeing my bare behind that I need to get into shape for my wedding. He offers to hook me up with his trainer to get my rear in gear and then asks me for advice on how to
ask his girlfriend to marry him.
(This is Jimmer throwing me the ball right after my pants dropped to the floor)
I woke up with four dominating thoughts.
1. Jimmer and I are friends!
2. I really wish I would stop eating so much sugar so Jimmer wouldn't think my butt is too big
3. Jimmer is such a nice guy for offering to help me get in shape so Sel doesn't think my butt is too big
4. Why don't I take naps every single day?
You might think this would be the whole point of this entry, but PSYCH (excellent show) it gets SO much better.
Sel and I went to Yogurtland a couple hours after my nap and I commenced telling him about my dream. Right after I say in my usual King decibel voice, "So Jimmer is looking at my bare butt" who should sidle up next to our table in his sweats but the real live Jimmer Fredette? As I watched the ten or so Asians, every single female in Yogurtland, and the starstruck manager mob Jimmer for a picture , I contemplated the magical aspects that my dreams and Yogurtland could have in the future. What if from now on when I want to see a famous person, I just sit down across from Sel and say "So then Josh Groban/Regina Spektor/Ingrid Michaelson/J.K. Rowling/Simon Baker is looking at my bare butt" and then BAM they walk into Yogurtland :)
The possibilities are endless...
If a huge onslaught of people now go to Yogurtland (considering I have such a HUGE number of individuals who read this)..okay so if twelve people now go to Yogurtland to see if they can get their favorite famous person to walk in, I should receive some sort of promotional commission.
Happy Yogurting!
L
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