I have my own style of writing. ESPN.com’s Bill Simmons has his own style of writing. Everyone has their own style of writing. Or, well, Bill Simmons has also a weak alternative. (Thanks for butchering the page, Bill!)

I’m bored tonight, so I believe I’ll write a semi-post replicating the acts of Bill Simmons. Not perfectly, but similarly. Everyone loves his pop culture references that he mixes into sports writing, and “bastardizing” it (as many people would say.) Don’t expect this to be any good. More of a parody. Take it with a grain of salt. I feel apathetic at the moment. Here goes the fruits.

Friday the 13th
So me and my bud Nate are sitting around trying to figure out all of the superstitions in sports that are so inevitable in the sports world. You got Nomar’s glove and wristband adjustments; players hopping the baseline like inept bunny rabbits, and then you have pitchers eating licorice and brushing their teeth during the innings they aren’t on the mound. It’s kind of like Will Ferrell’s daily routine in Stranger Than Fiction.

While we are discussing the nature of superstitions we began naming off players with the name Jason. We came to the conclusion that Jason Giambi was only visiting Mitchell’s office for the indelible fact that he’s a Jason on Friday the 13th, and that nothing could be wrong for him. I was hovering strange and bizarre statistics over The Sports Gal and she didn’t appreciate it too much. She kept interrupting Nate and I by prophetically uttering to us that we need to move on and not talk of such “crap.” I guess that’s a dinger.

The BS Report
I don’t think stuff out of my mind for the podcast. I have to write up my openings. I get e-mails all the time from people asking me if I open up the show with something savvy off the top of my head. Look, I’m a writer, all right? All right. I have to improvise what I’m going to open it up with, and I have to set up guests for the podcast. It’s more harder work than you think.

One day when I get Ray Allen to appear to talk to, I’ m going to question him even more about his movie He Got Game more than I’m going to talk about his future, wearing a Celtics jersey for this season. If not that, then I’ll be just too busy e-mailing Ric Buhcer back in forth during games.

(On a side note: why am I e-mailing Ric in the midst of the game? Because The Sports Gal got aggravated for me sitting on the couch in awkward positions, while she would tell me to move and sit regularly. I emit back to her that it’s all in good company of luck of watching the Sox play. If they are in a rhythm as I galvanize into a leg flip. When I have to use the restroom, I wait it out. You know, at the end, I have to complete at a monster urination. You know, the one where you sigh and let out a big gasp with your hand pressed against the wall?)

OK, OK. I’m sick of trying to write like Bill Simmons. I can’t do it; I can’t do it. It’s too freaking weird and nearly all the way off-topic from sports in that instance. I’m incompetent on this one.

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