For shame, WAKA Austin. For shame. We have let what was once a staple of our league go from a beacon of hope to a flaming bag of dog poo left on Jay's doorstep. The GMOT was, at the height of its excellence, the kind of girl who gets drunk and orders the sex, not once, but TWICE, from the bartender. Or that guy who drunkenly booty texts his team's group chat to let them know he just wants the loving. Now the GMOT is past its prime, and it's like the guy who drunkenly falls down the stairs and poops his pants. Or the girl who passes out at Third Base and then cries in the parking garage about a guy SHE broke up with.
What happened to us, guys? We were so fun, so clever, so full of spirit! Have we lost our heart? Are we jaded? Are we just old and unwilling to put in a little bit of work and mild dedication to breathe life back into the lifeless corpse that we call a GMOT? Has all of the fire water we've been drinking limited our ability to write creative/ridiculous copy for all the league to see?
I say this, Austin: we need to get back there. We need to bring the GMOT back to its former glory. I don't know what changed over the last few seasons, but we have collectively dropped the ball on what once was a glorious compilation of drunken rhetoric and creatively-crafted trash talk.
Let's make this GMOT the tightest butthole IN THE UNIVERSE.
LOVE YOU ALL IN A REALLY CREEPY WAY,
Your friendly, neighborhood Candy Van
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