Let me

Tell you about my Saturday night. Unlike most of you who probably caroused around town and visited the local pubs and discos, or engaged in other unholy acts involving bodily fluids, I decided to stay home to watch the Manny Pacquiao vs. Juan Manuel Marquez fight. I am a huge fan of boxing and it's probably my favorite sport to watch. I found a link to watch it online for free. If I were to order to it on Pay Per View it would have been about 50 dollars. As a cobbler, this is beyond my means especially in this economy. At about 7:30 my power went out. Oh great. It usually takes the power company about 2 hours to restore power. Sometimes it takes longer. I started to get into a crabby mood, but to my fortune it came back on in 10 minutes. Oh yea! Lucky for anybody around me because if I don't get to see my boxing, I'm like a kid in Toys R Us who doesn't get what he wants. Fast forward 3 hours, the power goes out again. As soon as it did I yelled out "YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!" That was just a front to hide my fear. I totally didn't expect it to go out a second time, so I was shook. I won't lie. The fight was going to come on in less than an half hour. I went outside to see if anybody else lost power. It was only out on my side of the street. The first time it was out as far as I could see, and both times ambulance and firetruck sirens were heard. Something was up. Then my neighbor came out and started speaking, which scared the shit out of me. Then a cop drove up and asked if my power was out. Something was up. I felt like I was starring in a horror movie and it was about a half hour in, right before the first kill occurs. So you know what I did? I went right back inside. That's right. I wasn't going to be brave. No way. I'm very clumsy. I would've tripped on a twig and broke a bone. I called the power company over and over out of boredom. The power finally came back on and I got to enjoy the fight. That was close. I am Baliwala. My electricity runs on a third world country system.