I'M BEING WAY TOO LOUD LATELY.

The fifth game of my Hornets 10-game package was Monday night against the 76ers. I went with Bob. We met at Chuck's house and used his parking pass to park for free at the game. Sweet. Thanks, guy.

When we turned the corner after entering the building, a worker mumbled something to me. I didn't know how to respond, and we just kept walking. 

Bob: What did he say to you?

Me: I need everything you got.

Bob: What was that? A holdup? 

Then, when we got to Section 312, the usher stopped us as we were walking by her and demanded we show her our tickets. This is the second time she's done that to me this season. I'm sitting in the freaking $25 section. Who sneaks into the $25 section? 

There is absolutely no point for an usher in the 300-level to be checking tickets. That's for the ushers in the 100 level. And if I was going to sneak into the $25 section, I would enter in the $10 section and walk over without an usher seeing me. Does she get off by sending people trying to upgrade $15 on seat location back to their assigned section? 

  

Paging, Mr. West. Mr. West. Has anyone seen David West? Is he being kept in some special back chamber underground? ... What? He's too big to show up for a home game and cheer his teammates? I demand to know his whereabouts. Immediately. 

A rabbi delivered the pregame prayer. Bob: "You think Ju-Ju asked for the rabbi?" Ha. The rabbi had a unique presentation. Rabbi: "As Tyson Chandler knows, everything in life is not a slam dunk. Peja knows that sometimes in life, you have to take a long shot. And only with CP3 is stealing OK. Don't forget to tip your accountants come tax time." All right. I made up that last part. 

The halftime show was interesting. It was Rubber Boy, the most flexible human in the world. He did some sick shit, yo.

I turn to Bob during this novelty act and say: "You think he ever ...

Bob: That's just what I was thinking. 

(Less than a minute later, Rubber Boy sniffs his butt.)

Bob: Probably. 

Meet Ryan Bowen's fan club, led by the guy cupping his hands to his mouth wearing the white hat. After Bowen made a fantastic hustle play, they started chanting: Ry-an Bow-en. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Then, a few seconds later, Bowen makes another crazy hustle play. And repeat the chant. I like to call them Bowen's Bonanzas. 

Game-wise, there were two memorable happenings Monday. 1) Peja's five consecutive 3-balls from just about the same spot on the floor. This led to Bob and me doing multiple chest bumps. 2) CP3 coming up three steals shy of the second ever quadruple double involving steals. He almost had an eighth (a jump ball was called) and a ninth (he knocked the ball loose, but it went out of bounds before he could corral it). 

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, Bob and I moved down to the third row. I know a few of the people sitting in the second row, and it was much closer. (There were a lot of empty seats.) The Hornets (mainly through Peja's 3s) went on a tear. The 76ers called a timeout, and the crowd stood up and clapped all the way through the break. 

Peja hit more 3s after that, and the atmosphere in the building was insane. Not a big crowd, but a boisterous one. It was the most fun I've had at a Hornets game all year. 

That is until the usher made her presence felt. She gave us quite the speech for about three solid minutes. We ignored her for as long as possible and kept up with the game. 

Somewhere in there, she said: "I've been getting complaints about you two all night. A lady told me she had to switch to the other side of the section because she couldn't see. (Something about us being in the wrong seat.) Now, let me see your tickets." What a bitch. 

I give her our tickets, and she tells us to return to our assigned seats. We showed her, though, by sitting several rows closer than our actual seats. Of course, I've only sat in my assigned seat once out of the five games I've attended in section 312. 

Before I left the third row, I announced to anyone within earshot. "Sorry, guys. I was having too much fun. Sorry about that." 

I tried to take a picture of second-row Brian defending us to Lady Usher. The cotton candy man, however, decided to set up shop in the middle of the walkway. A line almost started to form down the steps. Seriously. 

Finally, I got a shot of second-row Brian and Lady Usher. 

First of all, Lady Usher has a power issue. I don't think she realizes she's an usher on the 300-level. Her job is basically pointless. All she can really do is listen to people bitching about other people and then tell the person being bitched about to cut it out. Maybe she can eject someone. I thought she was going to kick me out. It would have been so on, Lady Usher. So on. 

Second, who complains to an usher about people standing and cheering? Fake fans, I guess. It's a freaking basketball game, people. You're supposed to get excited, make noise, chest bump and jump around some. Otherwise, you might as well stay home and watch it on the couch. Besides, the 300-level was half-full at best Monday. No one should have been in any one's way. Ugh. 

 1) The Hornets are 5-0 in my package games. 

2) Special thanks to Andre Miller for fouling Butler at the end so the Hornets could reach 100 points and get me a free chicken wrap today. My theory is that Miller (with a stack of programs) went around all day today to every Popeye's in the area and bought a wrap. Don't worry. He gave some of them away to the homeless. The man has a big heart.

3) Bob and I came up with a much more better nickname for the Honeybees. WHORENETS. I'm sure you can figure out our inspiration. Plus, it doesn't refer to them as bees. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom recalls my behavior as a kindergarten. I was a problem for the teachers. I always got frowny faces. "I used to be like, 'What is this bullshit?' They wanted to know why you were acting like that. I was like, 'It's because he's fucking bored. He's already had this shit.' " (It was my second time in kindergarten. Age issue.) 

Oprah is running shows on weight loss. "I've been dieting since I was fucking 14-years-old."

One of the bad guys on 24 is confusing mom. "I can't believe this asshole trusts Jack. He don't know who he is?" 

I tell mom that Mickey Rourke will fight at WrestleMania XXV. "He used to be sexy. Then, he couldn't get any parts. He started getting in the ring to box, and he fucked up his face." 

A soap opera messes up on the DVR. Mom can't hit fast forward through the commercials without it messing up. So, she had to watch the show as if it was live. "What the hell? No! What the fuck? ... This thing ain't worth a fuck." 

I buy a king cake from around the corner.

Mom: How much was it?

Me: $21.70.

Mom: That much? It's just a doughnut. That's all it fucking is. A doughnut. A fucking cinnamon roll.

PARTING SHOTS

Gamby is describing someone in the local community.

Gamby: He's always looking for a quick buck. 

Bake: Excuse me. What did you say?

Gamby (slower): A quick buck. 

Bake: Oh. I misunderstood you. 

Max reads my Tyler song set to the House of the Rising Sun. We make up a new song. 

Max: Oh, Tina, tell your children.

Me: To curse as much as you can.

Max: Spend your lives.

Me: Cursing up a storm. Down in ... 

Max: Harahan. 

We're discussing what would happen if our office played Survivor using nola.com.

Me: Jelly, what would be your strategy? Just smile? 

Bake: Cle...

Jelly (cutting Bake off): Cleavage.

Bake: ...ean language.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five french fries.

5) Tina's.

She cooks them on the patio. 

4) Popeye's.

Love that batter from Popeye's.

3) Chez Picayune.

Thin and crispy. Goes perfect with a No. 1. 

2) Wendy's. 

Only fries I don't eat with ketchup.

1) Bruno's.  

Waffle style. Always crunchy.