Down About It

Some people probably think the measure of a man is his character -- honesty, integrity, whatever. Others might look at his station in life, or maybe even how much money he makes or what kind of car he drives. Me, I like games. Which is why I was up till 2 a.m. last night playing Tiger Woods golf. I'd lost the last three or four games, and who cared if I had a paper on the FCC due today. The Telecommunications Act of 1996 or whatever seemed less than trivial compared to the problems I'd been experiencing lately with my short game.

Tomorrow night, before we go see Kill Bill 2, we're going out to the driving range to see who can drive the ball farther (lunch is on the line). Speaking of lunch, a couple of days ago we were at a Vietnamese restaurant and I won by eating more of a green pepper than anyone else could manage. Sometimes, winning hurts.

Tonight, my friend K. called to tell me he'd taken an IQ test. Naturally, I took one too and ended up with a score of 137. ("136 - 145: Highly gifted and appearing to be a Genius to most others.") Apparently I'm a poseur genius. I'm no Val Kilmer. Even worse, K. said he'd scored a 138.

The moral of the story, I guess, is, Hey, geniuses, fuck your mothers.