True wins are what's important.
As an aside, I've tried applying this logic to my work hours. I pointed out to TPTB at work that even though I was only there for 19 actual hours last week, my true hours were 40. A variety of factors play into this equation: my fellow employee's failure to work efficiently (we call it the drop rate where I work, ours is like 20% higher than most places), lack of solid play up front (our reception area could really use an upgrade), and lack of a good running game. (horrible couriers, always messing things up.) My boss really seemed to understand what I was saying.
EDIT: Are there any job openings where you guys work?
I apply this logic to the number of supermodels I have slept with. Same kind of thing.
The fattie in the 10th grade? She was screwed by genetics, her parents were ugly as sin and overfed the hell out of her. Had nature been on the up and up, she would have been born to amazingly good looking rich people that put her with a nutritionist from birth.
So the fat ugly girl was a true hottie.
That girl I picked up at the Spaghetti Bender in Ann Arbor in '91 during the Wings v. Blues playoff game? She looked damned good until I sobered up. The alcohol screwed me that night. Drinking at a bar is not my fault, so had I been sober, I would have obviously picked up a supermodel.
The Beer Goggles girl? True hottie.
That stripper I banged in Pheonix in 2004? I was so busy staring at her amazing breasts, I failed to notice she had a grill like a shed full of rusty garden tools. More busted up crooked nasty teeth than a member of Wu-Tang Clan.
Had the lighting not been a distraction, and had her breasts not been absolutely perfect, I would have noticed the teeth. That's not an interception on me, that's a dropped pass.
Snagglepuss? True hottie.
All in all, I get my hands on more supermodel bumper than Tom Brady.
