Your mother comes home to find you, butt displayed high and coated thick with her blood-flushed-sexually-aroused lip simulating goo and spanks the shit out of your red ass. How dare you waste her good make-up on your filthy poop machine? Now she has to throw the rest of the stinky tube out and order another one from the home shopping network. You get seriously grounded and have no recourse to continue on your bid at a spot in the prestigious NOW league. But at night, when the clouds part, you poke your head out of your basement window, with nostrils full of the scent of dirt and leaking engine oil, you look up at the stars and contemplate what could have been.