Technical Foul #00149

by rasheed wallace (with help from steve javie)

Man, how dare you call me for three seconds...

I was in the key for three seconds?!

What about my man Jermaine on that other end? I was guarding him, I can log his minutes in the paint for you if you are too lazy to notice on your own. See, when Jermaine was down there in that lane on the other end, it seems you didn't have a problem with him chopping down some trees and making a really luxurious and historically accurate Hopi tipi in his lane. While it was a nice approximation of the traditional housing of the indigenous folk of this area, that doesn't negate the fact of him residing in the lane area during a regulation NBA game for far more than his league sanctioned three seconds!

I didn't hear no whistle for that...

And what do you even know about three seconds anyway? Think of it this way, chump change...

Three seconds, as in the longest amount of time you have ever ran continuously.

Three seconds, as in how long your last date stood there before she took off.

Three seconds as in the head start I'm about to give you before I hunt you down and give you a swirlie to write home about!

Hey ref, if you were a milkman, it would take me about three seconds to tell that your goods were sour, and that your cows probably broke free of your tyrannical reign and got themselves into an onion patch so they could breath their stinking mad cow breath in your grill.

If you were a school janitor, and if you had just waxed the hallway with all the lockers, it would take about three seconds before you slipped on your tush and then three more seconds until the school thugs found your lying, yet now buffed behind, and packed you polka accordian-style into locker 333.