So last night I went out with a few friends of mine to a new spot on 29th and 3rd call Tonic East. We were out to watch Game 6 of the NBA Finals, but we were in store for much more. Present in my party were a college teammate of mine (also 6’7″), known hereafter as “Zimbabwe,” a friend of ours from college who works for G-Unit records (“G-Unit”), an aspiring singer who accompanied him who bore a shocking resemblance to Beyonce (so much so that I was told that some people on the subway to the bar asked) (“Lil’ Beyonce”) and my nameless high school friend (“____”).

As the game entered the second quarter Michael Strahan from the NY Giants entered the bar. He entered to lots of stares with a small entourage and a nice looking lady friend. He was standing for quite some time right next to me and my college teammate and I witnessed a few strange things.

For one I am bigger than Michael Strahan. This was disturbing for “______” because Strahan appears larger than life on tv and is a sick athlete, but to see me on a diet of height, donuts and weights appear bigger was quite sad for him.

Secondly, women kept scoping out me and Zimbabwe. This may seem like arrogance on my part, but alas it is not because it had nothing to do with me. Women really do like money and fame. And we were close enough to Strahan, while resembling like we might actually be football or basketball players that I could actually see one or two women calculating potential paternity payments into their financial plans for 2007.

The third thing I noticed is that Dwayne Wade pisses me off. I hated Michael Jordan because he got all the calls but he had earned them from years of spectacular dominance. DW is in his 3rd year and the call that they made with about 20 seconds left on Dirk Nowitzki was atrocious. Sorry to break story, but Dwayne Wade should not be getting calls like that so early in his career (or ever).

After leaving the bar I was offered a job to bounce at the bar on weekends, but it will probably not be possible due to my incredibly sensitive, top secret day job.

I was then convinced by my friends to go to a bar where there were some college friends of ours and a karaoke thing. Zimbabwe got up and gave perhaps the worst performance of What’s Going On in recorded time (which served him right for trying to sign me up to make it a duet).

When I woke up this morning I saw on page 3 of the NY Daily News that Strahan’s wife is saying that he had an affair with another man. I was appalled at that allegation. I mean, he didn’t even offer to buy me a drink. Well I guess it is hard to impress a real celebrity with fake celebrity.