Oh, shit you all. Team four is registered and they are coached by none other than the former apple of my own mom's eye...that is until I be birthed. Now my mom can hardly remember having a son before I. Such is the plight of Scott Sarver Lindvall, coach of the Leaping Lazaruses. Just when we thought no name could be worse than God Hearts Sackbags, along comes coach SSLindvall to put our fears to bed.
S. Sarver Lindvall hasn't paid his $20 fee either. In fact he sent your esteemed league commissioner a note earlier this evening, and I am quoting now, "Can I owe you the $20? You can have one of my kids if I don't pay, but I get to pick which one." Which is now out there in the world, out in the world to be read by the singles of you reading this blog. I hope he gives me the quickest and most sure footed one. Beers don't fetch themselves. Scotch and sodas don't fix themselves.
More tomorrow, I am sure. Sweet dreams for all of you in the ChopStar Nation. Fear and loathing for all you on the outside, wishing and dreaming to be on sweet soft inside.
This has been ETL, CSNFFLC
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