I got lost on my way to MLB spring training in Florida and ended up in the Yukon. I was too hungover on the days I’d planned on attending CFL camp. Manchester United’s letter never seemed to have made it. I was going to be a gymnast in the London Olympics until I found out it’s next month and I haven’t even started to train yet.
I chose making toilet doors at a factory instead of becomg the fifth Beatle because I didn’t like Yoko. The Montreal Canadiens offered me work as stick boy and I though they said “ship ahoy” and I declined because I can’t swim. Bill Gates begged me to be his partner but I believed in typewriters. I missed accepting the Order of Canada because “The Bachelor” was on.
They warned me she had the clap but I thought it meant she liked to applaud after sex. I was once clocked faster than Usain Bolt but probably because I had to go number two. I worked long and hard to get Hardy Astrom into the Hockey Hall of Fame until I realized I had him and Ralph Backstrom confused. I could never understand how rabbits always won at greyhound races.
I moved to the West Coast to get out of the rain. It took me years to figure out that women don’t like guys who scratch their asses at formal gatherings. I was a Scott Gomez fan until I noticed that he was a player and not a pre-game flag kid. I lost my life savings after investing in Pinto limousines. I quit school in grade ten to follow my dream of going to Harvard.
I was informed via an official email that a prince in Nigeria wants to give me 8 million dollars so I sent the necessary $100,000 for administrative purposes and have now been waiting three years for the big money to arrive. Angelina Jolie asked me if I wanted to have sex and I said yes, do you know anybody?
And I’ve never been successful, no matter how hard I’ve tried, in getting Al Capone paroled.
What a loser I am.