Note: This column was written during my junior year at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, and published in the Promethean.
Paul Ryan, columnist
In a unanimous vote last Tuesday, the entire world picked me as the athlete of the century. I was ranked #51 on Sports Illustrated’s list, but that list is not official, because not everyone got to vote. As proof of my achievements, I’ve taken a picture of my ribbon for fifth place in the softball throw, which I won in fourth grade. Of course, I was in the “B” level, so technically, I came in fifth out of seven people in a class made up almost entirely of 10 year-old girls. But nevertheless, I won a ribbon, and they don’t give ribbons to losers.
Also in my awards collection is a third place little league baseball trophy, a 1988 football “MVP” trophy (identical trophies were given to every player), and a little league baseball “Good Sport Award,” which is a very prestigious honor that somehow always seems to be won by the last place team in the league each year.
For your sick, sadistic enjoyment, here are my career stats:
Baseball (right fielder):
Hit by pitch: 6 (cried twice)
Football (wide receiver):
Cheerleaders scored with: 0
As A Spectator:
*Got booed once at UWS hockey game for throwing “oatmeal pie” cookie on the ice.
Keeping on the topic of sports, let’s talk about the Super Bowl. As “we” talk about the Super Bowl, you’ll begin to notice that there’s not much room for you to add comments. You’ll also find that if you do speak back, people may find you odd and creepy, and will react much like one would to a serial killer or John Tesh in a thong.
As this year’s big game came to a close, half of the world sat in amazed silence as the ball fell one yard short of the goaline in one of the most thrilling games in recent history. Meanwhile, the other half and I sat in amazed silence wondering how drunk Kurt Warner had to be to marry that ugly beast of a woman he calls his wife. [CENSORED FOR LEGAL REASONS] blue-feathered boa [CENSORED] drug out into the street and shot…twice…and poked with a rusty nail so if she lives she’ll get tetanus. [CENSORED].
Michelle Lee: alleged lover of fruit cups. Mark Mallory: fruit cup preference still unknown
In a rare coincidence, I had a bit of a celebrity sighting the other day. Yes, I saw newscaster Michelle Lee while shopping for groceries at my friendly Duluth Jubilee Foods store. She bought flowers and a “fruit cup” of sorts. This was quite interesting to me, for I too had pondered buying a “fruit cup” of sorts. I decided against it after realizing that I was already getting my recommended daily dose of fruits/vegetables from the “Fruit Roll-ups” I had eaten at 3 a.m. on this particularly sunny newscaster-filled afternoon that I like to call Monday.
Leaving Michelle Lee behind me in line, I walked out. Then she laughed at me because I forgot my milk. I fully expect all of you to write this sadistic newscaster letters. She must be made aware of how I cried for hours because of her uncontrollable snickering.
Finally, I’d like to end this column by asking for your opinion. I was wondering, if I was to change the title of this column, what should I change it to? Here’s your choices:
1) “Dr. Roboto’s 30 cents off shake n’ bake column o’ fun.”
2) “Guess what? Shut up!”
3) “Red shoe diaries.”
4) “Paul’s time of the month.”
5) “Proof of why you shouldn’t drink Lysol during pregnancy.”
6) Keep “Ramblings.”
Go online and vote at: “www.acad.uwsuper.edu/ prometh” (Website/voting no longer active). Click on “Paul Ryan’s Ramblings” and vote away! And remember: voting more than once, though illegal in today’s society, is always okay.
Also make sure to call the “Quote Me” phone line. Clip out the enclosed coupon for convenience (NOTE: impossible in online version. You idiot).