Some of the best moments in sports happen in overtime. I'm not going to name them right now because I'm about to put in some hours to finish up a project. This moment is bad bad bad.

Could be worse, though. Worse would be my friend's situation. His chiropractic classes require a kit that measures blood pressure, has a bunch of scopes, is utterly useless when trying to pick up girls at a bar, and costs a grand*.

If I were studying in the medical field I'd probably end up MacGyver-ing any kits I was supposed to buy. Can you imagine the fun? I'd check your ear wax or give you a colonoscopy with a jumbo sized electric cattle prod. With any luck I'd probably the world's nastiest OB/GYN.

*that's one thousand dollars, tsou go wan bah dan.**                         

**that's a bad stinky dog egg you tsou go wan bah dan.

I am positive that in a reality other than this one we are living in that my last name is Chen and I am a OB/GYN. Hence, I am known as OB Chen in said reality. My business card reads:

Don't fear the pap smear.

Back in high school, there was a girl that I hung out with during a summer. I liked her and I think she liked me. A mutual friend told me we were supposed to happen, but I turned into an asshole after my car accident(underage driving). She started to avoid me and I started to hate her because that is the mature thing to do.

These shoulda-woulda-couldas can drive you crazy. It took me at least three or four years to fully get over my thing with her because I couldn't forgive myself for fucking everything up. See, it was not about her specifically, but what she represented. She was possibly the only good thing in my life at the time, a symbol of where my life was supposed to go. I wasn't supposed to go through what I did because, ideally, life should be simple.

Looking back at those moments, I would say that when you're fourteen you are ready to drive but terribly unready to deal with the guilt and fear struck by almost killing one stranger old lady, one stranger little kid, and two of your best friends. I don't know what age says you're ready for that.

Everything has worked out, though. The girl ended up with some other guy, and honest to god he was a good guy. He was a much better choice than me because he was nice, ridiculously good looking, and very social while I was an anti-social asshole that happened to be pretty crummy in bed.

I don't know about you, but when I was fifteen, I definitely was not ready to please others.

There was also a time when I wanted to sleep with my boss in high school. Reasons? First, she was attractive. Two, I was--and still am--a really horny guy. Three, I thought it would help her out.

She looked so damn stressed all them time and I always ran a scenario in my head where we would have a cataclysmic orgasm on her desk. Legs splayed in the air, mouths wide open, papers strewn about the floor, telephone pleading with us to dial, pencils standing up in the carpet. She would have felt magnificent and thanked me for changing the course of her life.

I've been getting hard-ons at least six times a day lately. Even in public.

How come I'm not popular in Houston?

Oh man, I definitely am a boner. A client gave me a card for the holidays and I thanked him by saying, "Merry Christmas." He's Jewish and I just realized the card says 'Happy Holidays'. No wonder he grinned at me like he thought I was an idiot. It's because I am one!

He's a bigger idiot, though. I've got money from him, and you know that's got to be hard to get. Zing!

Oh who'm I kidding? I'm bigger than an idiot. In fact, I'm an imbecile.

The Niners are absolutely pathetic for far too many reasons to name. What makes it worse is the false aura of a tradition of winning. Bay Area fans can blame ownership, the GM, coaches, or players all they want, but they should remember that the Niners were just as lousy in the seventies. We're spoiled brats and need some perspective, kind of like what my ex-girlfriends who dated black guys learned.

It's one season, and if life is about balance, hold on tight for a few more.

You know how in the movies there's always one poker player who thinks he won the hand and starts to grab the pot but then he actually loses. Well, I have one of those stories.

I had fifteen thousand dollars worth of chips on the table when the turn lit up an ace. I already had two in the hole, and with two kings showing on the flop, I was in a pretty good situation. My cousin is the only other player left and I raise him another five thousand to see if he's game. He raises me and I raise him and he says fuck it, all in and drops thirty thousand.

I call, we river and he prematurely celebrates. He's got a flush spades, ace high and he starts grabbing the chips. So I stop his ass and ask isn't a full house higher than a flush? His eyes froze and I started cracking up. What a dumb shit. He was so embarassed.

Luckily we were only playing with chips, because his daughter's college fund would be at nil.

I would be such a good performer on the World Series of Poker or whatever. I mean the other players would definitely rape me for my money, but I'm sure I could liven things up by upending the table and bitch slapping the announcers with brass knuckles.

I'd also be playing in the buff, ensuring an extensive audience of horny females and gay men will watch when I do my trademark karate chop to the groin.

One of the first times I played poker it was of the strip persuasion. I lost within fifteen minutes and I wish I could say I did it on purpose. It was not on purpose and I would have rather seen her naked because she seemed disappointed in what I displayed and offered. In those days before puberty, I was young and pathetic like the Niners. I like to blame it on a lack of puberty, but it's really those damn black guys.

Now a days I'm still waiting for puberty to end, but I think I score better than the Niners. I have much more to offer these days and I always make sure she is naked first.

Actually I think I hit puberty in the fifth grade. That's when I had to start shaving and my voice got deep. Over the phone I sounded like an old man and whenever I called a friend who was a female and her mom or dad answered I'd get a hesitant response.

When I clearly identified myself the parent would sigh a sigh of relief and explain to me that I sounded like a dirty old man. And then he or she would remember that I was that kid in school who ran around naked and karate chopped people in the groin. Needless to say I got hung up on a lot and to be perfectly honest, not much has changed.