Two Battles Lost

I suppose there comes a time in every relationship where one of the two has to get used to sharing his or her partner with another human being, for whatever reason. Maybe one of the two is working on a project with someone, or traveling on business with someone, or just spending time with a new friend. This weekend i've had to split time with an unlikely character; he's actually an adolescent with dorky glasses and a British accent (being that he's British and all) and supposedly he rides a broom.

Yep, Harry Potter has taken over as La's current flavor of the week, a spot that I have proudly occupied for a good 8 or 9 months now. I guess every dog has his day. Let's have a look at how I stack up to young Mr. Potter.

As I mentioned, Harry is younger than I, actually 10 years my junior to be exact. I guess he may be a bit more spry than I am these days, but I am working on that shortcoming. He possesses that newly pubescent look with perhaps even a little hint of a fuzzy moustache, whereas I can't even try to hide my dirty upper lip. It's plainly visible even on the morn of a fresh shave. On looking young, advantage Potter.

Potter's sport of choice is Quidditch, which would appear to be some sort of amalgum of lacrosse and curling with the addition of brooms and an air-bound playing field. Right. My sport is football and as a few of my readers will attest, I could William Tell that Potter's ass right off the broomstick and send him hurdling earthward. I don't tend to know the athleticism involved in a sport such as quidditch, but it does look like it possesses a fairly high degree of difficulty. But I can't concede this one to Potter because I just know I could throw on his ass all day if you lined him up at corner. I think I could hold my own on a broom. Advantage: me.

I wish I didn't have to go here, but in light of the last category, it seems fitting. I think Potter might have the upper hand when it comes to vehicle of choice. Surely his broom is light years cooler than my 2005 Saturn Ion. He may not be able to offer the comforts of a padded seat and dual airbags but there's nothing sexy about a 4-cylinder sedan that gets 32 mpg, highway. And think about the time and money you could save on parking with that broom. Forget valet, you could check it with your coat or better yet, stick it under the table while you eat. Advantage: Potter.

I fear that I may fall short in the category of trade as well. Potter studies wizardry and from the limited portions of the movies that I've seen, he can do some pretty cool shit. I can't name anything specifically but in my book, all magic is cool magic. I, on the other hand, studied marketing and my trade is sales. Sure, I can write a little, but neither selling prowess nor writing ability is going to hold any water when matched up against a dude who's a friggin' wizard. I must confess that I can't even master the simplest of card tricks; nevermind lighting something on fire or disappearing, what have you. Once again, advantage: Potter.

I think I have found an advantage in the looks department. For starters, I currently possess a nice brownish tan from time spent in the sun, whereas Potter sports the pasty white guy look. I can't really compare hairstyles because I had the Potter do no more than a few months ago. I don't wear those studious glasses, nor do I wear a school uniform day in and day out. I should hope that La prefers the shorts and a polo look, accented by flip flops and the occasional cap.

Regardless of the outcome of this head-to-head battle between me and Potter, I have lost out this weekend and will continue to lose out until the final installment of his journeys is put to rest. I suppose that if there's one dude that I don't mind sharing La with, it would have to be a fictional character. Or not.

In light of a recent request from the comment section of one recent post, I'm going to go ahead and post the results of the dog cliche text war that unfolded last week. It started on my end with a comment about drafting Vick in fantasy and it kind of just took its own life after that. Enjoy.

Me: Is it fair to say that if you select Vick in the draft, the season could be a real...dogfight?

Hammen: Taking Vick could really come back to bite you.

Me: What can you say about Vick? It's a dog eat dog world

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Hammen: He'll definitely be spending some time in the doghouse.

Me: I'd say Goodell will be keeping him on a short leash.

Hammen: He could be all bark, no bite.

Me: Nah, he'll probably walk out of the meeting with his tail between his legs.

Hammen: He's kind of a dog without a bone right now.

Me: I wonder if he's enjoying the dog days of summer?

Hammen: Those investigators are barking up the wrong tree if you ask me.

Me: I guess they found a book on dogfighting in his home. The page about pitbulls was dog-eared.

Hammen: They'll just be chasing their tails.

Me: It's high time they release the hounds.

Following these exchanges, I repeated my 'tail between his legs' cliche from earlier and forfeited the contest as a result, making Hammen the undisputed winner of the cliche-a-thon. But I'll be back, and I'll be stronger than before. I will prevail. Oh yes, I will prevail.