Posted on: October 1, 2009

This summer, my parents gave us their portable basketball hoop; after all, they have three bad knees between them.  Plus, it’s just common knowledge that white grandfolk can’t jump.

Now, back in the day, before my hubby morphed into The Dingus, he was El Guapo (and ‘Elm’, ‘Elm Street’, ‘Jr.’, and ‘Marcus Welby’ – just to name a few).   At 6’4” and born with uber-athletic genes, my El Guapo was quite the ball player back in high school.  (I mean, his family was serious about basketball and baseball; his dad even cut holes in his pockets so he could squeeze in a little extra practice during down-time.)

As a middle-aged man, El Guapo was thrilled to receive this hoop – to share sport with his little girls and to get a little exercise, to boot.

Fab-O Dad that he is, he even lowered the hoop’s height to ‘make it easier for the M & Ms to make baskets’ (…and maybe to make dunking a wee bit easier on his creaky 40-yr.-old-self?  Maybe?  Maybe just a little bit?). 

El Guapo has thoroughly enjoyed having the hoop in our driveway.


Unfortunately, it’s not there anymore.


A couple of days ago, the M & Ms and I walked up the street to M1’s piano lesson.  M2 and I walked back to our cute’n’cozy two-story trailer to work on her homework.  I have to set the oven timer for 25 mins. so I don’t get distracted and forget to walk back and pick up m’damn kid (like a did last week…oops; slipped my mind I had TWO).

When the oven bell chimed, M2 and I walked out the front door.  We stopped short on the stoop, dumbfounded.  There, lying cattywhumpus across the driveway, was the basketball hoop! 


What the heck happened?


There was a little wind in the air, but not the freakin’ tempest that would dump my hoop to the concrete, for cryin’ out loud!

Though I desperately didn’t wanna be late to pick up M1 (especially after last week’s fiasco; my poor kids are SO ‘parentally-challenged’…), we inspected the damage.

The hoop’s pole was bent in half at its base!  Even one of the pole’s support struts had been ripped away; its screw stripped and the nut and washer lying in the brown, dead grass.

I was utterly perplexed!    It was fine 25 minutes ago, for heaven’s sake; WHAT happened?!

I didn’t know, but I decided to figure it out after I collected my kid.

At the end of the driveway, we turned past the shrubs between our trailer and the neighbor’s mansion.  We nearly collided with another, new neighbor and his little guy.

Now, this guy is a stocky-boy, from just-this-side-of-Pudgeville.  He moved in three doors down this summer.  He’s an odd-bird.  He’s not just unfriendly; dude is just downright rude (unless he’s a deaf mute).  He will not look one in the eyes; hell, he won’t even acknowledge another’s presence, let alone greet or speak. 

(But, ever Viv, my wicked wont knows no bounds; I turn on my sugar and SMOTHER him with kindness and nauseating CHEER – eh, ‘simple minds, simple pleasures’….)

His kid is only five or six, and he’s a little doll-baby.  It’s too cute; he’s been practicing riding his two-wheeler for weeks.

As I drag M2 across the street to make way for the fledgling biker, I yell back over and make a huge fuss over the little fella getting really good at riding.  The little cutie just beams at my praise.  Chubs simply ignores me (actually, I love being ignored; that’s proof that I’m gettin’ to’im!).

We walk a few steps more up the street, and I’m kind’a relishing my little victory, and that’s when I hear it…a basketball bouncing….over by Big Fat Dad with the Ruditude.

Viv’s wheels of enlightenment start  a’churnin’….


Did that fargin’ icehole bend my hoop?


No freakin’ way!


He may be mean, but he’s an adult!

Noooo!  A grown man – a father – would never drive a dunk in someone else’s driveway AND then not admit to- nor apologize for having done so! 


Would he?!



The Dingus, mi amor El Guapo, is going to be crushed!  Adios, family fun!   

Now, here’s The Viv, trying to be a responsible, role-modeling adult herself — trying to see God in everyone, trying to give Rudy the benefit of the doubt (that which Viv wholly doubts he deserves, but so…).   She tries to conjure other ways in which her hoop could have been so verily mangled.

Raucous wayward teens bent on neighborhood destruction during the light of day?

The mild little wind rustling a few leaves?  (perhaps; but the water-filled counter-balance box would have been up-ended; it was not.)

A more-than-a-bit-rusty pole base doubling over under its own top-heavy weight?




Was my hand-me-down-hoop toppled by an amoral ASSHOLE attempting to impress his kid with a half-height half-wit dunk & run?!





That’s IT!


This Viv is goin’ down to Body Art, and gettin’er knuckles tattooed with:




Then, she’s freakin’ hijackin’ THE BONEBOX off’n Slingback Susie, and she and Rudy and SpongeBob are gonna take a little joyride — right after she jams a basketball up the sphincter’s sphincter and stuffs’im in the homemade coffin.

And if, on the way out’a the  ‘hood, she see’s that little pucker-in-training fall off his fuckin’ Spiderman two-wheeler; she’s gonna honk like hell.  



6 Responses to "B-BALL KILLA"

How disappointing. I can assure you it wasn’t the wind, otherwise that company would have huge lawsuits against them for hoops falling on kids.
Fatty on the other hand, I think we have a case. I’ll bet he pulled at least 2″ of air.
Think of this though, you know damn well in the process of him trying to stick his landing and the pole bending that he fell and busted his ass on your driveway and that should bring a smile to your face.
You can have ours, D1 and D2 (douchebag 1 and 2) rarely use it and at the rate I’m packing on the pounds, it’s just a matter of time before I bend the pole.
Love ya,


I’m trying to give the dickhead the benefit of the doubt (and that of my ever-scheming mind), but, c’mon!

Coincidence that he just happened to be not 20 ft. from said hoop…WITH the basketball?

Methinks NOT!

And, IF he truly were innocent, he most-likely just walked past my house — and HAD to have seen the felled hoop — wouldn’t a normal person have commented on it? Have asked if ‘a lady’ needed help in hoisting it upright?

Thank GOD El Guapo talked me out of donning my ninja-wear and slinking over to Rudy’s house at 3 am to topple HIS hoop. (I just wanted to let the prick know that I KNOW what he did).

If I hadn’t heard the voice of reason, I’d be the one in the hoosegow, charged with destruction of property!

El Guapo said we should be THANKFUL (???!!!) the fat fuck didn’t cop to the topple; had he been hurt, HE could’ve sued US!!!!

WTF is wrong with this country?!

MF’er will get his someday, somehow, I know. I just hope I’m around to cheer it on!

P.S. – Poundage, pal?! C’mon! You’re a freakin’ tri-athlete! You have a NEGATIVE body fat ratio!

P.P.S. – I have one word for you, bro: CHEESEBURGER!!!!!
*You can’t imagine how yummy one tastes!

P.P.P.S – Okay; The Viv can’t do just ONE word.

P.P.P.P.S – I love and miss you too, pal!

P.P.P.P.P.S – xoxoxoxoxo

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. – (I got nuttin’ — I needed to do just one more)

What ever happened to decorum?

Sister M C!

Welcome! (I knew you’d pop up sooner or later!)

Now, you know I love me some decorum! Is it not one of my favorite words? It looks like ol’ FrankenViv is gonna have to edumacate the whole frippin’ world!

If only Ego #1 had the moxie that The Viv can barely contain, huh?

Just wait ’til that Rude Dude tries to build a deck or put a fence ’round his house; HOA Board Member Viv’ll shut that spineless sumbitch down!


Though passive-aggressive, indeed, and not nearly as much fun as dumpin’ HIS hoop in the dead o’ night, it’s the only get-back available to Ego #1.

Prison is the ONLY thing she fears.

On the other hand, ending up as Big Lulu’s bitch behind bars just might be worth the payback….

Please keep in mind that if the neighbor had actually hurt himself on your basketball hoop, that he was still A) a trespasser, b) assuming the risk of such activity, and c) an adult. You can sue anyone, for anything, almost anyplace. It doesn’t mean you’ll win. I’ve never had anyone tell me “Goodness, they have legal representation! Quick! Give them whatever they want.” It’s always a fight. Having said that, the goal for you is to stay out of court in the first place.
From the facts you gave, your neighbor has his own hoop, and your hoop had quite a bit of rust on it, making it less sound structurally. I think it less likely that your neighbor would take (what I would consider to be) the extreme step of helping himself, in the presence of his son to your athletic equipment. Nonetheless, you were there (or close by) and know this guy, so if you deem him an asshole, then asshole he shall remain.
Best to all of you,
Shyster Dave

Hey, Shyster!

Thanks for the freebie legal advice — it was free, wasn’t it?!

Yea, I dunno WHAT to think of the whole damn incident. The Dingus was away, and he hasn’t had a chance to evaluate the hoop that my friend and I dragged into the garage.

Honestly, I don’t think one can differentiate between the original damage and that which my pal and I inflicted with a hammer and wrench to dismantle the damn thing just to make it fit into the garage.

(THAT had to be a funny scene, the two of us girls out there, hackin’ away at the hoop, determined as all-get-out to conquer the metal beast, making it yield to our feminine muscle!)

Just stay on stand-by (need a retainer?), Mr. Legal-Eagle; you just might get to meet the Rude Dude yet. Then you can judge his assholiness for yourself!

Love to the 3 of ya!

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