Well since I am proud to be one of the only people brave enough to talk about sexual space in class, I must say that I am amazing.
Nothing short. Well besides my actual height. Today I am 5’7 so I do not know where I got the inch from but it is there. Guaranteed.
Disclaimer- Everything to follow this is completely satirical. It is not meant for anyone to catch feelings. These comments are childish, immature, and nonfactual.
Well I am a very competitive person by nature as is everyone. Human beings strive to be number one all of the time. When we sell ourselves short, we feel unaccomplished and like we have missed something in life. Amazing right? The only downside to competition in my life is the fact that I have a permanent losing record. If I am winning by 20, I will find a way to lose by 10. That is just life for me but it changes when I play air hockey.
Yes Air Hockey. That game couple’s play and the women wins and the man goes hard in order to win and manages to hit her in the face thus ending the date.
The Air Hockey I play is ALWAYS intense. I am not going to be played for like a fool. I play with my managers from work and I make sure I set those white boys in their place. The main problem I have with this game is I shoot too hard (hehe). As Greg told me, it is not about power it is about accuracy.
I try to shoot as hard as I possibly can EVERYTIME. I make sure that I have a group of people gathered around me a fan club watching my manly arms strike each neon green shot. When I play air hockey I go hard.
Today I played against my old manager in a game of Air Hockey. I managed to hit four people watching just out of how hard I hit that damn puck. Keep in mind that I was losing by a tremendous amount and everyone was laughing at me; I still managed to make sure that puck ricocheted enough and smack enough people in the face. I screamed. I cursed. I was asked by numerous Dave and Busters non college going, 40 IQ, virgin, security guards to tone down my antics.
However, Jacques does not “tone”. He juices.
Jacques threw his puck numerous times when the final shot was in. He even managed to hit a little boy who proceeded to tell me his true opinion of me.
“JACQUES YOU FUCKING RULE”
I admonished the kid for cursing and kept to my losing.
Now my manager is kind of chubby. So it did not even become a point to win; no, it became a point to hit the roles under his face. That is what I wanted to do. I wanted to make those fat cells jiggle with glee with each manly stroke of my arm hitting that neon green puck.
Needless to say I ended up losing the game but I did manage to bruise fat cells of his.
And the kid? Well he loves me.
I am not his father. He was Asian.
Ha imagine a little Asian boy telling me I rock?
I love my life