REQUIEM FOR A REALEST

The Realests have always had a tenuous relationship. Observers have never really known if we are on the brink of insanity or genius, friendship or hatred, realety or reality. For the outside world, it's a fun game to play - we imagine that all of our loyal readers stand in awe of our ability to shun the normal occurrences of the everyday world and stick to our one task in life: being real.

Well, the facade is starting to crumble. The chinks in the armor are starting to show. And it ain't pretty. Major events have transpired in the last few days which have lead one half of The Realests to battle the other half.

Major Event #1: Dwight Howard's All-Star Dunk


Quite simply, it was breathtaking. The showmanship. The freakshow ability. The tape measure. The sign. The midget that threw him the ball. The Sticker. Oh yes, the sticker. That is where this story begins. D-How, in one swift motion, placed a sticker damn near on top of the backboard and obliterated the rim. The sticker simply said "All things through Christ."

Major Event #2: Britney Shears

We've always pulled for Britney to make a huge comeback. We wanted her to dump K-Fed, sell her kids, hit the gym, and put out an album of bangers. Well, things went the other direction. There was puke, a refusal to wear underwear, and the decision to go V For Vendetta on us. The shearing incident took place after only one day in rehab.


Major Event #3: Monday Night Crew (2/19/07)

In what can only be described as a superhuman feat, I carry Jim for nearly 8 games of beer pong (including the spectacle of hitting not one, not two, but three last cups to ensure victory in a triple overtime classic) before the disc between my 5th and 6th vertebra slipped and we tumble to defeat. To shore up Jim's shattered ego, I pump his head full of misinformation - telling him that we are a "team" and that he can come through at any moment. All hogwash.

Major Event #4: Lent

Lent is coming up. Clove would always give up drinking for Lent. Now I will do the same.


Usually, me making a proclamation like this wouldn't mean a whole lot to anyone, not even myself. But it struck a unique nerve with Jim. It's thrown him off his game. And if there is one thing that is important to me, it is destroying Jim.

Jim flew into a rage when I told him. He threatened to lock himself in his room for a month and listen to Damien Rice for 40 days and 40 nights. He threw insults at me. He tore apart a friendship/not-friendship that has survived the infamous Woodley Era, the "Suck on these sour balls" era, and the "Potential Academy Award Winning Screenwriters" Era.

But then Jim pulled us back from the brink of disaster by hurling what he thought would be an insult at me. Unfortunately, I took it as the highest compliment.

He said, "You are the Rasheed Wallace of the apartment. Guarantees every other day. They mean nothing."

Well, the thing about me and 'Sheed is that we hit them when they count. We hit them when they count.