Kobe

A while back, Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were snoring our way through an extremely boring episode of The Hills a few nights ago, when he noticed in the Boston Herald that Kobe Bryant wanted to be traded again.

"Hey, I got an idea."

"Hit me Norwegian Sweet Cheeks."

"You and me are worth like a combined $750 million. What if we offered him money to play for us?"

"Our rec league team?"

"Yeah. We could pay him like $50 mill."

"That's a lot, even for us. I'm worth less than you."

"I'll pitch in more."

His agent wouldn't hear our phone calls. But that got our gears working. Why hadn't we thought of this sooner? Sure, we couldn't get a Kobe, but we could get some cusp talent that's playing for peanuts overseas. We went on the Internet and looked up some names. We were getting excited.

Then our Chinese showed up. We took a break to eat, only to succumb to the dreaded food coma. I woke up drooling with my head on Mads' chest. It was kind of embarrassing.