525,600 Minutes

A Star Studded Event

A couple weeks ago, Mach One & JillyD attended the annual Halloween Bash thrown by our friends.  The invitation specifically states, "no half assed costumes" which means that your ass better show up dressed up in something.  Or you'll be mocked and ridiculed by nearly every inhabitant of our small town.  You'll most likely be mocked and ridiculed at some point anyway, but who the hell wants it to happen because you were too effing lame not to dress up for a Halloween party?  Not me, that's for damn sure.  So dress up we did.  JillyD came up with the idea and Mach One created and executed the idea.  Which means he made the costumes.  My man ~ he's a diamond in the rough.  Just sayin'...

 

We were candy bars.  You don't go through life as fat as I am without experiencing the pleasure of a candy bar every now and then.  But I'll go on record right now saying that Almond Joy and Mounds candy bars suck shit.  That coconut crap is foul.  I have food texture issues.  I actually have several issues but you already knew that, right?  Yeah, don't answer that.  Let's move on to the rest of the guest list, shall we?

Here are our hosts, Lisa Loopner and Stanley the Scout Master.  A perfect example of why you shouldn't don a Boy Scout or Girl Scout uniform once you've reached puberty.  It's just wrong and creepy.  And it should be against the law.

 

And what's a party without Sonny & Cher?  Nothing, that's what.  Can I just share the fact that Sonny's leisure suit was two sizes two small and required the whole ass to be cut out and re-sewn?  Poor Sonny.  Poor, dead Sonny.  And Cher is looking pretty damn good for an old broad, don't you think?  What is she now?  Like 80 or something?  Sonny's dead and Cher's eighty.  What the hell is the world coming to? 

 

Sarah & Todd Palin took the day off from shooting wolves from helicopters in Alaska to hang out with the homies.  Did you know that they can see Russia from their house? 

 

JillyD caught Sarah having an interesting conversation with none other than....

SATAN.  Based on last night's results, it didn't help her cause, now did it.  Don't fuck around with Lucifer, Sarah ~ just sayin'.  There's Trig in the Trig or Treat bag.  Hi Trig.  Don't make eye contact with Satan, k?

Peg & Al Bundy stopped by...

 

As did our local clergy....

 

And we highly encouraged these kids to steer clear of the local clergy.  Just sayin'...

A lot of networking took place at the party.  For example, Peg tried to weasel a spot on the local bowling team.  She even brought her own cigarettes...

 

But the bowling team is full.  Doris told Peg to back her bitch ass off because Stella is her partner, dammit and she'll kick Peg's ass if she even thinks about moving in on Stella.  Bowlers are very protective of their partners.  Didn't know that did ya?  That's why I'm here ~ to educate the masses.

 

Speaking of educating the masses.  Who doesn't love Sarah Palin? 

 

About 3/4 of Americans that's who.  But I'm not bitter. 

And in case you were wondering about the choice of costumes for Mach One & JillyD, this should clear things up for you.  He was Almond Joy and I was Mounds because ... wait for it ...

The Girl found this highly inappropriate.  I found it funny as hell.  Big surprise.

The Girl & The Boy

Raise your hand if you're sick of seeing the weiner with buck teeth every time you open JillyD's blog.  Admit it, you know you are.  As funny as he was the first time you saw him, he's not really funny anymore.  Even though a dick with buck teeth is pretty damn funny.  But now it's time to move onto something else that's funny, k?

Have you ever watched Oprah when she's had those transgendered freak a leaks on her show?  You know, the dude that wants to wear a bra and the chick that wants a beard.  Notice I said that she "wants" a beard not that she "has" a beard.  Menopause can be a bitch, just sayin'.  Anyway, back to the whole transgender thing.  I think it generally looks something like this...

 

Welcome to Halloween 2008.  I, for one, find these costumes to be highly disturbing.  Highly. Disturbing.  In case you're not sure what you're looking at, let me narrate.  The Boy as The Girl and The Girl as The Boy.  And it was all JillyD's idea.  I'm pretty sure that therapy wouldn't be a bad idea for me.  And I'm damn near positive that my children will require it in the not too distant future.  Let's take a closer look...

 

This is Mach One's greatest nightmare come true.  The Boy in a skort.  And knee socks.  I'm most disturbed by the fact that he's wearing his sister's shoes.  And they fit.  What the hell?  He also said that the skort was "really comfortable."  That is so wrong on so many levels.  Feel free to count the levels of wrongness.  I'll wait while you do.

 

Here's JillyD's greatest nightmare come true.  The Girl in  pleated pants.  Who the hell thought that pleated pants were a good idea?  And I fully admit that I wore them back in the day.  But I also wore a rosary as a necklace, so there you go.  The Girl hated the ugly boy pants and bitched the entire time we were trick or treating.  Apparently they were giving her a rash.  And she didn't appreciate the fact that there was extra room for the penis.  I told her that she should be damn happy that she doesn't have a penis that she has to cart around every day in those pants.  Especially one with teeth...

 

They really have each other's personalities figured out.  Here's The Girl bitching at The Boy.  I mean, The Boy bitching at The Girl.  Wait, which is it?  It's so realistic, I'm not even sure myself.  Did I mention that The Girl is wearing The Boy's shoes?  The real Girl is wearing The real Boy's shoes.  This is very confusing.  I think I need a margarita.  Things get clearer with tequila ~ just sayin'.

 

Despite the weird cross dressing, they're damn cute, aren't they?  In a weird way.  A really weird way.

 

Happy Halloween from our family to yours.  Oprah, are you out there?  Let us know when you're planning on booking us on your show...

Motivational Thought for the Weekend

This little animal is called the Naked Mole Rat and is from Africa...

 

So if you're having a bad day and feeling sorry for yourself, remember...

 

You could look like a dick with buck teeth.  Just sayin'...

Have a great weekend!

What Happens in China, Stays in China

Unless of course you're BFF's with JillyD.  If that's the case, what happens in China not only doesn't stay in China but ends up as fodder on JillyD's blog.  Just sayin'.  Such is the case for my pal, Pocket Aces.  Pocket Aces - he's my BFF, Jenni in the Hood's love monkey.  Speaking of a love monkey - and we were weren't we - raise your hand if you know what these are...

 

Anyone, anyone?  Let's work with the monkey theme shall we?  Let's move from love monkey to hmmm, let's see.  How about spankin' the monkey?  What's the main organ involved when one "spanks the monkey?"  Ding, ding, ding.  Or should I say, dong, dong, dong?  Give yourself 5 points if you correctly answered, "Weiner, Alex."  Give yourself an extra 5 points if you answered in the form of a question.  Like this, "What is a weiner, Alex?"  And you'll get an extra 2 points if you actually said "penis" instead of "weiner."  But seriously, penis is so formal, don't you think?  We're going with wiener, because let's face it, we're all friends right?  No need for formal, medical terms here.  Especially ones that involve the word penis.  But back to China.

If you'll recall, weiners are served up on a regular basis in China.  As in people eat them.  Raise your hand if you've ever eaten a weiner.  Wait.  On second thought, I don't need to know that about you.  Really, I don't need to know.  Let me rephrase that.  Have you ever eaten a DONKEY weiner?  There, I feel so much better about the inappropriatness of that question.  So, have you?  Personally, I have not.  Because I'd still be puking if I did - just sayin'.  But even though I personally haven't had the pleasure of eating a donkey weiner, I know someone who has.  Guess who that might be? 

 

Oh hi, Pocket Aces and your friends.  How's that weiner tasting?  Pocket Aces is the stud on your right.  I have no effin' idea who the hell the other dudes are.  Fellow weiner eaters, that's all I know.  And I'm I the only one that finds their happiness in said weiner eating to be highly disturbing?  You'd think they would be much sadder at the thought of a donkey weiner heading toward their oral cavity - just sayin'.

So here's the story as relayed to me by my BFF, Jenni in the Hood.  Pocket Aces - who whisked my BFF half way across the fuckin' world, but I'm not bitter - went on some "work" function with his fellow weiner eaters.  Notice the quotations marks around work.  That's JillyD being sarcastic.  It rarely happens, I know.  Anyway, part of the "team building" - there's those quotes again - revolved around an Amazing Race type of activity.  Through fuckin' scary ass China.  Can you imagine?  I'm breaking out in hives just thinking about it.  Apparently part of the Chinese Amazing Race that was taking place under the guise of work, brought Pocket Aces and his partners in crime to a weiner serving restaurant.  Where they had to pick out a weiner to consume.  Do you think you pick out a wiener like you choose a lobster from the tank?  Do you go for the one with the greatest girth?  Or the Slim Jim?  Or the Tiny Tim.  Let's see what Pocket Aces went with.  Here are the options...

 

And the winner is...

 

Bottom row, fourth weiner from the left.  Definitely Tiny Tim.  Smart choice, my friend.

Can we take a brief moment to discuss why the nuts are encased in a clam shell?  What the hell is up with that?  Even the donkeys are worried about protecting the family jewels.  It's like a cup for amputated weiners.  Two words.  Highly. Disturbing.  Highly. 

Pocket Aces and the weiner eaters had their own personal chef.  Pocket Aces and the Weiner Eaters.  That sounds like a band, doesn't it?  I, for one, would buy their CD - just sayin'.  So here's their chef preparing the "chosen one"...

   

Why does the image of Lorena Bobbett keep flashing in my mind?  Because I'm clearly deranged.  Clearly.  But seriously, wasn't she the first person you thought of?  You know you did.

So once said weiner has been chopped into yummy, bite size morsels, they were delivered to the anxiously awaiting patrons.  Who as I said, look pretty damn happy to be eating Eyeore's schlong...

  

Even the chef is happy.  Or is he just mocking them?  I think we all know the answer to that, don't we?

Backwards Baseball Hat seems very interested in fondling the weiner that he's not eating.  What the hell is up with that?  Creeper...

   

Look - he's showing Pocket Aces the length of the weiner.  He's telling Pocket Aces that the poor weiner-less donkey has nothing on him, dammit.  He's telling Pocket Aces that his backwards wearing baseball hat weiner is a helluva lot bigger then that damn donkeys.  Seriously, he is.  I can read his lips.  He's saying, "My weiner is MUCH bigger, Pocket Aces."  At least the other guy has the sense to attempt to cover his eyes since he has zero interest - let's say it again, Joe Biden - zero interest in the length and or girth of Backward Baseball Hat's weiner.

But Backward Baseball Hat won't let it go.  "Look, camera man, my weiner is bigger than this weiner."  And as a side note, is Pocket Aces eating a nut?  I'm sure the delicious dipping sauce has made him completely forget that he's getting ready to ingest a sperm filled nut.  I think I just puked a little in my mouth.  How about you?

And here's the money shot...

The shot that ultimately made them victorious in the Amazing Race.  You read that right.  Pocket Aces and his team won the race.  But they ate a weiner.  So are they really winners?  I'm thinking no.  But that's just me.  And he's only been there for a little over a month.  I'm not sure what to expect a year from now.  But you damn well know that I'll share it with you.  Because what happens in China won't stay in China.  It will end up on an American blog near you.  Just sayin'...

Applefest 2008 - Part Deux

Ok, so where did we leave off?  A week ago.  When JillyD told you it would be the next day.  Sorry, I lied.  JillyD shouldn't make lofty promises of next day entries when JillyD's spawn play every sport available in the free world.  And maybe in the unfree world too.  Basketball, football, softball, soccer.  We had all of them this weekend.  And when I say "we," I don't mean me.  But since I'm one of two adults who can drive in this household, I might as well be getting my ass tackled on the football field since I'm at every game and every practice.  So there's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.  But back to Applefest.

The last time we gathered, we were discussing boobs, were we not?  Like how disturbing it was that our childhood heroine, Pippi Longstocking had grown a set of huge ones?  Very disturbing.  And that pictures like this adorned each and every one of the kiddie rides...

 

Obviously this gal is not familiar with Victoria.  Or her secret.  Underwire support is never a bad thing - just sayin'.

The House of Mirrors is always a fan favorite.  Because why the hell wouldn't you want to run your ass into mirror after mirror and breathe in all of the germ and mold spores that are colonizing on the mirrored surfaces that are being peppered with spit and snot from all those who enter.  And notice I could have said spit and sperm - the alliteration would have been better - but I exhibited a morsel of self control.  Kinda.

 

The Boy was dipped into a vat of boiling bleach upon his exit from the house of mirrors - just sayin'.

This gal was in charge of said germ haven.  I'm pretty sure that she's a descendant of Pocahontas or Sacagawea.  Is that how you spell Sacagawea?  Who gives a shit?  If your name has the word "Sac" in it, it's a problem.  Because everyone immediately things "nut sac" and don't tell me you didn't because you'd be lying.  I know you people.

 

So let's all sing a song to Pocahontas, shall we?  I've been to the year 2008, and your great, great, great granddaughter is doing great.  Except that she probably has to clean the sperm that's left behind in the house of mirrors.  And she bathes on a semi-annual basis.  And I think she's married to this guy...

Not that there's anything wrong with being dentally challenged.  I'm sure he's a lovely man.  Like for example, he clearly loves children...

  

Orthodontia vs. no orthodontia?  Or teeth vs. no teeth?  I'm planning on taking this picture to The Girl's orthodontist to see if he'd like to use it in his latest ad campaign.  That will, of course, involve royalties for me.  But clearly, the cool kids have orthodontia AND teeth.  Just sayin'... 

The local freak show is always a good place for a little self introspection and to gain some perspective on one's self as well.  For example, my friend Yo! has been a little down on herself lately.  She thinks she's gained a few pounds and is feeling a little un-slender lately.  JillyD to the rescue...

 

Raise your hand if you think Yo! is stunningly svelte.  Damn near anorexic, if you ask me.  Go have an elephant ear, Yo!.  No, really - go ahead.  Perspective - it's a beautiful thing.

I will say that the Applefest does have some standards.  Like they just don't let anyone into their food tents...

 

No elephant ears for the chickens.  Unless they can convince Yo! to buy them one - or three.

Or maybe this guy will buy them one.  And they can check for nose boogers in his cool mirrored shades...

 

Either way it's a win-win - just sayin'.

Applefest 2008 aka "What the Hell?"

Welcome to the second annual edition of the freaks come out at night.  Except it wasn't night.  It was during the day.  And "it" is the money sucking debacle known as the "church festival."  Remember how much fun we had last year touring the freak show?  Let's give it another whirl, shall we?

Never known to disappoint, this year's festival contained new and improved death traps.  Like this one for example...

 

Who in their right fuckin' mind would go on this?  Seriously.  It's assembled by people that are dumber then my dogs.  And my dogs lick their own nuts and have been known to eat their own poop on occasion.  But they're smarter then the folks that assemble these rides - in one day I might add.  Swear to God.  I drop the kids off in the morning, this mo fo is in pieces on a truck.  I pick the kids up from school - 6 hours later - and this mo fo is ready and waiting for its unsuspecting victims.  All I have to say is, "What the hell?"  And thank God that my kids are chicken shits and had no interest in blowing chunks on this killer.

Along with the new death traps, came new carnies.  Carnies with authority issues.  And bad teeth.  But carnies and bad teeth are synonymous, wouldn't you agree?  This ass wipe took it upon himself to throw The Boy off of the Himalaya.  Threw.him.off.  Here's The Boy saying, "Dude, what the fuck?"

 

Ok, he didn't really say "what the fuck?"  But he was thinking it.  And he did say dude.  Or maybe he was calling him a douche bag.  His mouth is forming a "dooo" sound.  And I'm not even a speech therapist.  Go figure.  Anywho, this barely past puberty fuckwit with bad ears threw my kid off the ride.  Too bad we don't know why.  Apparently because he's the law of the land.  Or the Himalaya nazi.  Bastard.

Look who's back.  Back again.  It's so heartwarming to know that job security is alive and well in America.  Apparently your job is safe if you work at the basketball hoop, screwing unsuspecting children out of their five dollars for one effin' throw and you're a tattooed freak.

  

If you're an educated professional who bathes on a regular basis, watch out, your ass could be canned at any minute.  But if you're a regular on America's Most Wanted because you killed somebody yesterday, feel free to work the same booth next year at the "church" festival.  Unless you're in jail.  Which is highly likely.  Because we want you to spend quality time interacting with our children.  What the hell?

Just so you don't think that JillyD is picking on all the stanky ass carnies, let's switch the focus to those who attend the festival, shall we?  Like this guy...

  

Let me answer that question that I know you're asking right now.  Yes, Virginia, his fucking hair is green.  And his dad has a ponytail.  And his mom needs a bra.  And his mom and dad are most likely brother and sister.  Which explains the green hair.  I'm going to go out on a limb but I'm pretty sure that an identical gene pool results in green hair - just sayin'.  Raise your hand if you can picture this freak ass sitting on a porch, playing the banjo.  Let's all say it together, shall we?  What the hell? 

Have you ever wondered what happened to the stars of your favorite childhood stories?  Like Nancy Drew?  Did she end up addicted to valium, screwing the paperboy, and on welfare?  Or what about Pippi Longstocking?  Whatever became of her?  Oh wait, JillyD knows...

Well what do you know?  Pippi Longstocking is all grown up.  And has big boobs.  What the hell?  That's very disturbing.  Pippi Longstocking isn't supposed to have boobs.  But Nancy Drew isn't supposed to be screwing the paperboy now either, is she?

Speaking of big boobs.  And we were, weren't we?  This lovely lass was prominently displayed on the front of The Twister...

  

What the hell?  Who is she?  Titty Longstocking.  Pippi's older, evil, bigger boobed sister?  Who's apparently a super hero to boot.  Who knew?  Here's a question for you.  Why exactly would this be appropriate at a "childrens" carnival?  With the operative word being "children."  She's like an S&M dominatrix for fuck sake.  Once again, all I have to say is "What the hell?"

There's so much more but so little time.  Tune in tomorrow for Part Deux of Applefest 2008 aka "What the Hell?"  You won't be sorry, promise...

So Effin' Funny...

I don't laugh at too many things.  This made me pee my pants...

Hilary: I don't believe in the Bush Doctrine.

Sarah: I don't know what that is.

"I can see Russia from my house" and "Boner Shrinker" ~ pure genius.  Not to mention the MILF comment...

I'm going to watch it again because it's too funny not to.  Politics ~ what's not to love?

I Once Was Lost But Now I'm Found...

And no, I'm not talking about the wretch that is me.  What the hell is a wretch?  Is it like a wench?  I know a wench.  She's nocturnal and she's uber cool.  But I'm guessing that a wretch isn't uber cool.  Wretch.  Isn't that like puke?  So let's use it in a sentence, shall we?  "JillyD had one too many margaritas which made her wretch her guts out all night long."  That didn't really happen.  JillyD can hold her liquor ~ just sayin'.  But is the song really saying "saved a puke like me?"  I'm thinking, no.  But who gives a shit?  This has nothing to do with puking or wretching or blowing chunks or whatever your preferred term for vomiting might be.  Thank God ~ the talk of vomiting makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

What I'm talking about is the Nintendo DS.  It once was lost but now it's found.  Which just made my freakin' day because the thought of shelling out another $129.99 for another bitch of a game was making me wretch a little.  See?  There is a connection.  And you thought JillyD was random.

About a month ago, The Boy lost his Nintendo DS.  Which was a disaster of epic proportions since he loves that thing as much as he loves his own penis.  Maybe more.  Ok, maybe not.  But he loves that damn thing.  And I love it because it makes my life a hell of a lot easier.  Yes, I'm a lazy ass parent.  That's why I didn't breastfeed.  Because I'm lazy.  And selfish.  And least I can admit my own character flaws, right?  Back to the Land of the Lost.  So one day, The Boy notifies me that he has no effin' idea where the Nintendo DS is.  No.idea.  I almost shit a brick at that moment.  Not only was I out 100 bucks but what the hell was going to keep him entertained during The Girl's various and sundry sporting events?  If you're thinking it should be me, my response is "What the hell?"  I'm watching the various and sundry sports being played.  Entertaining The Boy is not top on my list of priorities at those moments.  See, I told you I was selfish.  Didn't believe me, did you?  It's true.

The last place we remembered see the damn game was at the orthodontist when The Girl was being equipped with the braces that cost $5800.  She damn well better not lose those ~ just sayin'.  So I call the orthodontist and they say the don't have it.  I don't believe them.  And quite frankly, for $5800 they should replace the effin' game that my irresponsible 8 year old lost in their office.  Don't you think?  I'm pretty sure that's a reasonable request.  They didn't offer.  Sons of bitches.

So it's not at the orthondontist office, it's not in the car, it's not in the cushions of the furniture, it's not in anyone's bed, it's not in the washer or dryer (I checked) ~ it's not anywhere.  It's lost and it's not going to be found.  The Boy is devastated and wants a new one.  Mach One & I are trying to be responsible parents and tell him that if he lost it, he needs to buy a new one with his own money.  The Boy can't figure out why the hell Mach One & I are all of a sudden becoming responsible parents.  It was a little weird, I have to admit.  So life went on in this new, weird parallel universe of responsible parenting and The Boy learned to live without his Nintendo DS.  Or he swallowed his testosterone laden pride and played The Girl's pink one when she wasn't looking.  Until Friday.

I think we have a ghost in the house.  Or a poltergeist.  Are they the same thing?  Carol Anne?  Carol Anne?  Don't go near the light.  Stay away from the light.  That is a poltergeist right?  A mean bastard of a poltergeist.  I'm pretty sure that's not what we have.  Unless you happen upon me at the wrong time of my menstrual cycle.  Then I probably count as the mean poltergeist that resides in the house.  At least my family thinks so.  Personally, I think I'm a peach all day, every day ~ just sayin'.  But back to the ghost in our house.  The Boy was rifiling through a basket of shit that sits near our TV in the great room.  While it's not literally a basket of shit, figurativley a "basket of shit" is a perfect description.  Nerf guns, nerf darts, playing cards, yo-yos, Nintendo DS'.  WHAT?  Nintendo DS'?  Sure as shit, The Boy pulled the damn DS out of the basket of shit.  How the hell is got there, I'll never know.  Nor does he.  He swore that he's looked in in a million times.  I guess it was the million and one'th time that was the charm.

So the Nintendo DS has been returned to the sweaty paws of it's rightful owner and peace & harmony have been restored in our household.  Amen.

Look, it's me, JillyD

That kind of looks like me, doesn't it?  Kinda, sorta.  If all of sudden I was turned into a cartoon.  What the hell did you expect, Sponge Bob?  Or Mr. Krabs?  Don't answer that.

Anywho, I just spent a ridiculous amount of time on this site: faceyourmanga.com.  Which suspiciously sounds like "mangle your face" doesn't it?  Did I spell suspiciously right?  It's looks wrong, doesn't it?  Too bad I'm too damn lazy to go look it up.  Back to the face mangle site.  Go check it out.  Go mangle your face and then do me a favor, would ya?  Email your avatar to me, JillyD.  And I'll add you to the blog.  We can have a whole posse of mangled face cartoon friends.  Want bigger boobs?  Go ahead, makem' bigger ~ I don't give a crap!  Want all sorts of metal shit stuck in your face?  Pierce your eyebrow ~ go ahead, I dare you.  I'll draw the line at the nipple piercing though ~ just sayin'. 

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Today, I witnessed what may have been the cutest damn thing I've ever seen in my life.  Eight year olds knocking the shit out of each other on the football field.  That's good, clean fun right there.  It doesn't get much gooder, cleaner or funner than that.  Are gooder and funner words?  I'm thinking no.  Whatev.  It was a blast and I'm so damn proud of my boy.

For those of you who have been following the football journey, you know that The Boy had to lose a few pounds to make the weight limit.  A few.  Like five.  Which for an eight year old is pretty significant.  Hell, for a 40 year old it's pretty significant.  But he had to lose it or he couldn't play.  Because he might crush the other skinny ass whiner babies.  So Mach One has had him on a strict diet and exercise routine.  He's a hard ass, that Mach One.  Except to me.  He's nice to me because I'll withhold sex from him if he's mean to me ~ just sayin'.  But of course, The Boy doesn't have that trump card in his back pocket so exercise he did.  To the tune of running miles around the neighborhood and miles on the treadmill.  Mach One could get a job on The Biggest Loser, no shit.  But his iron fist paid off and this morning, The Boy weighed 90.2 lbs.  The cut off was 91 lbs.  That difference is like taking a crap in the morning.  Seriously.  And believe me, Mach One tried to get The Boy to do just that.  But he's more of an afternoon, at school pooper.  Which is enough to push me right over the edge.  Despite the fact he was full of crap, he still made the weight limit.  Here are few highlights from the game...

 

Now I realize that because I grew him in my womb for the freaking better part of a year, I may be a little partial.  But damn, isn't he good looking?  He takes my breath away.

 

Here they are doing the Hokey Pokey or some shit like that.  Or maybe it's Simon Says.  Simon says, "Put your hands on your hips."  Oh look, everybody but #12 is out.  Clearly, #12 is the smartest and most attractive on the team.  And he has the thinnest mother too.

 

Hey you, #80.  Yeah you, the guy with the big, orange stick thing.  You're blocking my view of my kid.  I don't give a shit that you're marking the yardage or whatever the hell that thing does.  Move it so it doesn't look like a big bullseye right over my kid's head.  He looks like he's getting ready to do something important and I can't see a damn thing because you and your mutant lollipop are right in my way.

 

I have no idea what the hell is going on here.  That is all.  Thank you and goodnight.

 

Ok, here I'm back in my element.  I'm pretty sure ~ almost positive, in fact ~ that the referees are doing the "Soulja Boy" dance for the boys.  For those of you who aren't familiar with the Soulja Boy Dance, the refs appear to be "Supermanning that bitch."  Or they could be "Supersoaking the ho."  But I'm pretty sure they're Supermanning that bitch.  If I had to guess, I'd say that was it.  Who knew that the Soulja Boy dance was such an important part of football.  I, for one, had no clue.  Surprised, aren't you?

 

My kid is in there somewhere.  I have no idea where though.  Maybe I need to dress him up like Waldo so I can find him more easily.  I'm sure that wouldn't result in any extensive therapy in his later years, would it?

 

The winning smile.  He doesn't look like he's going to need braces does he?  Have I mentioned how damn good looking this kid is?  Just want to make sure you're listening.  The score was 6-0.  We win, the other team loses.  Yay us.