A little background information on "The Bet"

For those of you who don't really know me, I'm gonna set my humility to the side when I admit that I'm one clutch mutha. I don't really know for sure when it started, but let's look back at some memorable "clutch" moments in my life that influenced me believe I could win any contest or wager:

• Maybe it was those well-placed Hadokens and Shoryukens in the waning moments of Street Fighter matches that would always knock out my brother

• Could it be from Junior High, when my competitive pizza-eating prowess was at its peak? (Damn you Cici's Pizza for fueling my childhood obesity...)

• Perhaps those inspirational messages on the back of those Cinco Ranch Triathlon volunteer t-shirts fueled my confidence (Be there...believe in yourself...BREAK THROUGH!!!)

• 97.5 on the Intermediate Accounting final when I needed a 97.4 for an A? 4 for 4 on the CPA exam?

• Taking top-honors in the KPMG Forensic Biggest Loser contest sure didn't hurt my swag

So I got a question why they hatin' on me?
I got a question why they hatin' on me?
Ain't do nuthin to em, but win their money
If you bet against me, you a broke-ass dummy!

Flash back to May 2009. My brother Garo has an engagement ring for his girlfriend Jackie (she helped him pick it out, so don't worry, I'm not spoiling any surprises!) that he bought pre-Hurricane Ike. Almost a year later...he still has the ring.

Now, I'm not one to make unscrupulous bets, and I rarely accept a challenge when I have no influence whatsoever over the outcome, but after 24 years of clutchness I was feeling pretty damn confident (That's right, confident, not cocky. Cocky is such a negative word...)

See what you don't know that I knew at the time of the bet was that my brother had the following obstacles to overcome ever since December 2008 before he could even propose:

• Per Armenian tradition, our family had to be invited over to her parents house, at which time my parents would have to tell her parents the following gem: "Our son (Garo) would like to pick a flower (Jackie) from your garden"

• Before we could go over, they had to get the house (and garden!) ready for us

As of May 2009 we were at about 9 months with a ring with no engagement, and about 5 months with knowledge of this tradition with no flower (lord knows that flower can't last long in the Houston heat!). I figured a few more months of no progress would be no sweat, so I bet my brother that he wouldn't be engaged by August 31. Now here comes to fun part.

The stakes of this bet had to be so immense to propel someone to trade away their bachelorhood. If you know me or Garo, you know we're some hairy-ass mofos...and if you only know me, my brother is twice as hairy as I am (Rubik : sweater :: Garo : mink coat). During our weekly drives to Katy for Sunday family dinner, we always answered "YES!" as we passed the "713-RU-HAIRY?" laser hair removal billboards. Well ladies and gentlemen, we're not betting laser hair removal (that's sooooo feminine). The loser has to get waxed, chin down, no ass or junk (we would each like to procreate someday).

As of July 30, I was a little over a month away from notching another victory. I could picture my brother in that salon on the table just like Steve Carell in "40 Year Old Virgin", but instead screaming "AHHH TATA SIMONYAN" as the angry Asian lady yanks off a strip of shag carpeting formerly known as Garo's chest hair.

However, on July 31 the tides drastically changed...Jackie's flower was picked...and with it I'm afraid my "clutch" streak will probably come to an end. With no more roadblocks in his way, I'm fairly confident that Garo will manage to propose to Jackie sometime before the end of the month, after which time I will become the "Hairless Armenian"