There's radiation burns on my retinas from staring at the warm glow of the laptop screen as it beams up-to-the-nanosecond NBA rumor updates against the pale flesh of my ashen face. It's three in the morning and I can't remember when I last slept. What day is it, again?
My full bladder aches for evacuation. But... I... must... hold... on... I can't just get up and leave now, there's too much at stake. I know the second I get up there will be a brand-new post about how disgruntled Charlie Villanueva is in Scott Skiles's system, or how some sports hack in Philly called-out Samuel Dalembert in his latest column. Sure, I can read it after I return from the bathroom, but by that time it's too late. I'll have missed my opportunity to click the comment button and add "First!".
Wait a minute. They don't post rumors at three in the morning. What was I thinking? No one is up at this hour. It will be at least eight AM Eastern Standard Time before anything new goes up. What am I doing? That's still two hours from now!
Oh well, I'll just kill time at the ESPN trade machine and see what the Blazers can get for Petteri Kopponnen + RLEC. Devin Harris? Richard Jefferson and Ramon Sessions? The ESPN trade machine is a magical place where anything can happen (I once made a Pete Best + Ringo Starr for Paul McCartney + John Lennon deal work).
It wasn't always like this, sure during the off-season maybe, but I've been better since then I swear. Besides everybody does it then. We can't help ourselves. It's all KP's fault. He's an enabler. Watching him on draft night swap 2nd round draft picks and cash for a foreigner I've never heard of or flip-flopping first rounders with a mouth-breathing GM (I'm not naming name's, but I'm thinking in Kevin McHale's general direction) gives me the buzz I crave, man.
It's not like I'm addicted or anything. I just want a little something to tide me over 'til then. And another one of these cheapie Taurean Green for Von Wafer deals just ain't gonna cut it. If the trade involves Shavlik Randolph and Shavlik Randolph only, it doesn't count. I need a bigger fix than that, man.
Oh crap, maybe I am addicted. All the signs are there: the poor hygiene, the shakes, and the obsession. It's all I can think about. It's even started seeping into my regular life. Today I tried to trade a Twinkie to the Plaid Pantry clerk for a Reese's peanut-butter cup and a Ho-Ho to be named later. Sure, the Twinkie was half-eaten, but the Peanut-butter cup might have salmonella. Doesn't he read the paper? This was a win-win deal for the both of us. Why didn't he understand?
Oh well, at least I have my support network at Blazersedge.com. The number of fanposts speculating about what Jason Quick might have been insinuating could very well happen should the Blazers possibly decide that maybe they'll upgrade at certain positions now number in the teens. This is where I belong.
And it's not just the bonehead readers, commenters, and fanposters who are guilty. Even that old pro, Dave, made a post about trading for SHAQUILLE 'effin O'NEAL! DaveDaveDaveDaveDave. Not you, too! I never thought this could happen to you. You're as bad as the rest of us. Can't you see there's no way it's gonna happen. Steve Kerr staked his reputation on the Big Aristotle. There's no turning back!
I think it's high-time I stepped away from the laptop and forged on to the first step. It's called acceptance. The reckoning is nigh. I'll climb to the mountain-top and shout for all the world to hear.
"Hello, my name is BlazerTag and I'm a trade-aholic."