"I might get ill, roll an 8th in one hooter..."

Smurfs are known for their ability to pop up all over New England to purchase rental property.

I got snowed into a cabin up in the White Mountains, but that all sorted itself out without any particular drama or shenanigans. I didn't fall down a mountain, get chased by a polar bear, abducted by Satan worshippers, or anything juicy like that. I did purchase a nice oceanfront property in Maine, although the Colonel used the words "my fearsome Hammer" at several points in describing it to a friend.

The Colonel gets into a Thor trip when he's performing carpentry, saying stuff like "My fearsome Hammer will remove this blight from the land, and deliver us a prominent return on our mighty investment." He does so in an earth-shaking bellow that has made his children cry more than once. It sort of worries me... but he works hard, and we generally do buy low/sell high. It's not like he isn't forgiving me several eccentricities of my own, no? The kids will grow up scarred but wealthy.

I was in a conversation with a friend that featured "If this SOB seller backs out of this Duxbury sale, I'm putting the kids in the car and driving south until I see Cubans." The conversation was interrupted by a contractor, who was painting a room and wanted to know where the broom was. "Do I look like the kind of a woman who knows where the f***ing broom is?" was her reply. "Where's the maid, then?" asked the earnest painter.

She's a trophy wife, and trophy wives don't need to know where the broom is. That's why God made contractors. But God also made sportswriters, and I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't alert the good people of Cape Cod to that annual Black Hindenburg that is the NBA All Star Game.

The NBA turns their All Star Game into a weekend long celebration. Not only do you get the game, you get the Shootout, the Skills Challenge, and the Dunk Contest. All that happens on Saturday, and the game goes down on Sunday... just like Jesus wanted.

The 3 point shootout is a series of guys running around the perimeter shooting all the balls off a series of racks. Whoever makes the most in acertain amount of time wins. This contest peaked for me in the 1980s, when Larry Bird walked into the locker room and said, "So... which one of you clowns is coming in second?" He then put on a Luftwaffe-worthy bombing clinic, walking off the court with his finger in the air while his last 3 pointer was still dropping down from the heavens. Game, Set, Match... bitches.

The Skills Contest is- I believe- a bunch of guys dribbling around a pylon. Rather than watch Kobe Bryant dribble back and forth, use this time to scan the audience for the latest hip-hop fashions..."Goddamn... I think Jay Z is wearing a live chicken or something!"

I love the dunk contest, and the winner can make a pretty good claim to being the planet's Funkiest Man. There have been some throwdowns in the past, with Dr. J and Air Jordan each freaking the public. I can recall Jordan being given a gift win in a Chicago All Star Game when Dominique Wilkins basically attacked the rim like a crazed gorilla. A white guy even won it one year.

The two guys who stand out this year are Nate Robinson and Gerald Green. Nate is this little (5'9" is "little" in the NBA) Spud Webb-looking sucker who won the contest last year by jumping over the actual Spud Webb to dunk a basketball. You may also recall Mr. Robinson throwing several punches in last December's entertainment that we know as the Knicks/Nuggets brawl.

Gerald Green is the Boston representative. He has truly terrifying hops... I'm guessing 4 feet for his vertical leap, and the brother hangs up there. There are rumors that he plans to dunk a ball with his feet/lips/etc... You know I'm rooting for Double G, and I expect him to beat that little Nate bastard like a goverment mule.

The game istelf is always a laugher... absolutely no defense at all is played, and estimates of a 158-156 score are common, if not conservative. Whoever gets the ball is going to shoot it, no doubt... and they will do so quickly. Look for it to be a series of guys trying to fall out of bounds into Christina Aguilera's lap.

But football is dead until Autumn, and pitchers/catchers don't report for a few more weeks. This is the best we get until March Madness or Wrestlemania XXXII. Rememebr to bet early and often in the Who Gets Shot At The After Party pool.