Monday, September 8, 2008

Married to College Football

For most of the bachelors in the Loop, football season is a time joy. A time to consume Banquet Beer and salty snacks. Although college football may punch you in the stomach every now and again, like when your team loses to Arkansas State, she never talks back to you.

That's what happens when you forget to wear your belt to the game.

She’s doesn’t whine that the outfit you’re wearing on the date makes you look like “You didn’t make any effort.” She’s a happy ending to a massage. She may not be able to make three sounds at once, but damn, she sure does come close.

As the sun rises every Saturday morning, and pours its golden beams in though our bedroom windows, we know when we stretch out our arms and hit the TV clicker, Herbie and Mel Brooks will undoubtedly be jerking each other off to decide which of the following three teams is the greatest thing since toaster struedel: Florida, Ohio State or USC. Scary we know, but it’s inevitable and it’s our passion.

It's our guaranteed hook-up after a Friday night of pouring Jager Bombs down our throats at Christian's Tailgate hoping that sloppy looking U of H law student would finally stumble into us after her Broadway-worthy rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart. Oh how we love thee College Gameday.

So we ask you this: Why do couples continue to schedule weddings on such a sacred day when there are so many other lovely weekends throughout the year? Why can’t you get married during the NBA playoffs or perhaps at any point during hockey season? Why must you insist on robbing us of the one constant thing in our life? Yes, it’s our fucking teddy bear.

Oh yeah, and there’s a hurricane named Ike headed our way. Thank goodness the Horns’ game is on ABC so when the power goes out we can sit in our apartment and take giant gulps of carbon-monoxide from the gas generator as it powers the 13-inch black and white TV with rabbit ears Grandma bequeathed us when she passed away in 1992. Yes, Colt can flex from the 5-yard line and penetrate the endzone. Pulled pork will be his appetizer before entering the Zeta house for dessert.

Obstacles? I think not.

Hit me again Ike, and put some stank on it!

There. We're done. We hope you’re looking forward to Saturday as much as we are. Oh and cheers to the groom! May you have a happy life with your bride and your castrated college footballs.

1 comment:

Bleach Brown said...

To the groom. We'll be there unless Ike shits on our travel plans.