It’s been a busy week. I’m moved. Unpacked. (sorta) But still waiting for those bitches at Ikea to deliver the furniture. Apparently it takes three weeks to bring a goddamn loveseat.
Anywho, it was a long week and I’m too tired to bring the funny today. But I do have a little something I’d like to leave you with before we part.
This week is the start of one of my favorite times of the year. The time when Saturday mornings great me with the hiss of an open Heiniken and the smell of filet on the grill. Where obscenities float through the air so frequently, you can almost grab one that’s drifting by, and pet it like a chinchilla. And my favorite, the shit talking, and all the glorious fighting. The week where we kick-off a little bit of the ultraviolence.
(music: Synthesizers and kettle drums)
But on Monday, there will be a game that has the potential to tear my little brain in two. For my most hated teams will face each other off, like two forces of evil in a final apocalyptic (yet annual) battle. My friends, you know as well as I do that these are the worst two teams in existence. A fan of one of these school was either too stupid to get into UF or dumb enough to pay $30k/yr for the same education in MIA. And that’s an absolute truth, isn’t it, oh my Brothers?
Now, I can handle watching just one of these schools play. It’s easy. I just root for the other team. But when they both go head to head is when my little neuron fibers start to frazzel like hair in a fire.
I want you to loose.
No both of you!
Agh! This hurts!
Ah! The pain!
The brain tearing neuron implosion of football fandom confusion! I am utterly beyond my capacity to wrap my mind around this moment!
But still there is hope. Two hopes to be exact. The first is the wish that both their offences will suck major llama nuts. The second -- their defenses will be good enough to keep the other team from scoring, but egregious enough to never intercept the ball themselves.
And then no one will score at all.
And they will both lose.
But there will still be one winner.
And that will be me.
(music: More synthesizers and kettle drums)
Your friend, Concha Libre.
Shaking her ass.
And her number one foam finger.
That looks like this:
Go gators. Or as we say in Libre land, “¡viva los gators! y ¡viva la concha!”