Don't know how we locked this down, but we'd like to introduce you to No Regard's newest blogging sensation... Mike Bibby! He'll be checking in whenever he can, just to remind us: It's Bibby's World, we just live in it!
Hey guys, it's me again. Today we're going to talk about having a good time, and what you can do when you're not. Last Monday, after losing to the Orlando Magic by four (Not my fault. I scored seven points.), my teammates and I wanted to go out. Since we were in Orlando, I thought it made sense to suggest Disney World. But because my teammates are totally predictable, they suggested clubs. "Wow," I said, "Clubs AGAIN? We just did that in Phoenix!" But there was no stopping them, especially Etan Thomas, who always has to be the life of the party.
So we went to a club called 'Taboo' or 'Roxy' or 'Men' or something swanky like that. We get to the front door and the ten billion pound bouncer charges us each a twenty dollar cover. Now I want to go home at this point, but Etan starts peer-pressuring me. He says, "Mike, we'll all get McRibs later, and we'll call them McBibbs when we order them!" Everyone laughs at this and pats me on the back, which I loved.
Next thing I know, I'm in the club. I don't know how to dance, so I didn't do that. I don't like shots, so I didn't do those. I'm not single, so I didn't do that either. And after watching Etan drape himself over a ninth makeout victim whom I can only describe as a 'cougar', I realized that a group trip to Disney World or McDonalds was no longer in the cards, and so I took myself out of the equation and left. On the way out, I asked the ten billion pound bouncer for my deposit back, because that's what I understood cover charges to be. He said, "Ha. Get outta here." And so I did, head hung low with my dignity left in the awkward space between the bar and the dance floor.
As my feet dragged me toward the nearest pair of golden arches, I began to think about that ten billion pound bouncer and his awful club toll. As most of you know, I'm a basketball player by trade, but I'm an entrepreneur and inventor at heart. It was this natural inclination to come up with smart ideas that led me to the idea of Bibby's Funsurance: An insurance company that pays you for the times you just didn't have a good time. For example: I pay the ten dollar cover to the TBP bouncer, and I decide I didn't have fun; I then write a claim to my funsurance for ten dollars and they reimburse me as they see fit. Genius.
Unfortunately, funsurance doesn't exist, and I was stuck on the McDonalds line by myself. I had been duped into a night of loneliness, and I had negative twenty dollars to show for it. When it was time for me to order, I looked at the McDonalds lady and could tell that she recognized me. I figured she'd appreciate a good laugh and so I said, "Two McBibbs please." Instead of giggling in acknowledgment, she looked at me like I was crazy and said, "They're called McRibs, sir." So I shouted, "Fuck you, Bigfoot!" Because she was gross, and I had had enough.
You're probably thinking that the night's a bust, right? Wrong. The next thing I know, I'm eating two tasty McBibb sandwiches and approaching the gates of Disney World. It was 8 a.m. now, and they were just opening. I walked right in - their first customer of the day. I blew by all the stands and rides till I made it to Splash Mountain. Sitting in my own personal log raft, waiting to be launched down a hundred foot drop, I thought to myself, "Funsurance isn't the money that's paid back to you after a TBP bouncer robs you of twenty bucks. It's the drive to turn your luck around." And after getting splashed by the mountain, I knew I was right.
So remember, you are your own funsurance company. Because when things get rough, it's your responsibility to turn a bad night into a log flume ride and a pair of McBibbs.