What good is being the greatest player in the history of a sport when it doesn't even get you chicks?
Michael Jordan threw up an air ball with the ladies last week at the ME Hotel in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. The retired all-star and his entourage spent three hours chatting up a gaggle of spring-break babes, ordering a constant stream of mojitos, tequila shots and sushi, but Jordan ended the night without even a phone number in his pocket.
Yeah, I guess there's the championship rings, the future Hall of Fame induction, the records, the undeniable celebrity, and the billions of dollars. All of those things that last a lifetime are nothing compared to a fleeting moment of hot lust. And Michael's not getting any of that. Isn't it sad that Jordan's wax figure gets more tail than him?
I blame it on Kevin Bacon. Dude is always cockblocking.