The other Jewish Elvis in Cajun country

This morning I was on my way to play basketball with some Advocate sportswriters (I realize that me playing basketball is funny enough but wait, there's more) when I hit a pot-hole on the goddamn interstate and blew one of my back tires. I quickly exited and pulled over right next to a small stadium where our local semi-pro baseball team, The Riverbats, were playing a game.

Well, I don't know how to change a tire. So, feeling like the biggest pussy in the world, I called AAA and had them send someone out to help me. Of course, as the repair guy was fixing my tire, all the time giving me a look that only could have meant, "You fucking California faggot," the baseball players began leaving the stadium and, as they got into their large trucks, they looked at my California plates and thought, "You fucking California faggot."

And, you know what, what can I say? Today I earned the title my friend gives me when I'm going on and on about something in California: Cali-vag-face. And fuck all of you for the comments to come.