This is my new motto until February when fucking football is O-V-E-R! At noon Scott pushed the dogs out of the way, crushed Sydney, as she flew across the floor, so he could run down stairs to plant himself in front of the television. The clock hit noon and he said, "And so it begins!" Seriously, he did not push dogs or fling Syd to the side, she was in bed taking a nap and the dogs were not around at the time. But watch out, if they were preventing him from getting his front row seat, this could be true.

In just a few, I am loading Sydney up into the car and going to begin my programming for the demise of football. Let the brain washing begin. Telling her to boo every time she hears the music that means the ass whip will begin.

I have been known to attend a football party...just for the food. NOT for the game. I just, hate it, I don't know why. Baseball is a snore to me, but I can tolerate it, but football, it is the equivalent to Scott's hate of "Bridezillas." I even will take golf over football.

No instead of brainwashing I am taking her and my Mom to this. The food event I was trying to take the afternoons off for was to judge this competition. I did get one afternoon to judge the items, and it was a lot of fun. I have to admit even my tolerance for hot food was challenged at this judging. It was crazy, we would be doing hot salsas and once your mouth was set a blaze it was hard to judge the next item due to trying to get control of the heat factor. The day I got there was the last afternoon of judging and they had run out of whipped cream, that is what you use to off-set the heat factor. So it was milk, which I have not had any of in 30 years, tea, or water. They gave us cheese and fruit too and that did help. But once you were lit it was hard to keep going. I think the strangest thing we had was chili vodka, yeah, I passed on that one.

Well, she is awake and it is time to shove off and being my mantra of WE HATE FOOTBALL!!!! My one wish for the day, may the Cowboys get their ass handed to them.....hate the Cowboys more than football....


At 8:27 PM , Blogger Kim said...

They did lose didn't they??? I don't like it either. I was working my tail off all day on TS stuff, after taking a charming Little Man to church by myself and he is just taking his time to do whatever he wants which is mostly watching football. But I am supposed to drop all my projects when he is ready to assemble Little Man's train table. HUH? How does that work?

At 1:07 AM , Blogger Yeah, him. said...

I'm glad that the Cowboys got their butts handed to them as well, but that's more my hate of T.O. than anything else.

Have a good week.
I don't know what kind of Patriots Day to wish you (due to the atmosphere of it), but all the same...

At 6:28 AM , Blogger Krust said...

Good stuff Wub. Opening Sunday is always the worst for you. It trickles down from here, don't worry. How'd ya like Syd doing "touchdown"? She loves football too, ya know. Hockey season starts in about a month too. Good times.

At 5:41 PM , Blogger Little Miss said...

My husband has the kids trained well. "dad, can we watch cartoons?" No. It's time for bed. "dad, can we watch football?" Sure. Climb on the couch next to me, we can stay up for a while.


I don't even GET football.

At 1:48 PM , Blogger Tacey said...

I've chosen an alternative method of dealing with my husband's football fetish. "Miss M, want to go watch football with your daddy?" I get a couple of blissful hours to myself and he has to multitask watch the munchkin and the TV at the same time. So far, she has not sustained any injuries during this process... so far, so good...

At 5:12 AM , Blogger Masked Mom said...

I always tell everyone there are five things that made me know Hubby was "The One."

1. No interest in televised sports.
2. His last name was six letters shorter than my maiden name.
3. He changed diapers (I took him babysitting).
4. He always, always puts the seat down.
and, number 5? I'll just leave that one to your imagination.

At 6:58 PM , Blogger Jen said...

I'm with you. I am looked at like a lizard with orange hair if I utter the words: I don't like football anywhere in my area code. Why DID I move to Texas? They breathe the stuff here.


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