Sunday, October 16, 2005
Does Anyone Else Feel That? It Tingles
Woooo! Yes! All right! It's aaaaaaall good, my sweet bitches. It's all good.
Man. Woo! Did I say "woo!" already? Woo!
What a great sports weekend. Spectacular. If there were any other men out there besides me looking to avoid contact with their family, transferring the bulk of their personal attention and emotional investment on to structured groups of other men in tight matching clothes handling and chasing balls, this weekend was IT, baby.
Especially if you're from SoCal like me, man. Then double-woooo!
First of all there was the USC-Notre Dame classic up in South Bend, Indiana. I'm not a huge SC fan, but I AM quite a devoted supporter of Things That Are Good, which that game was. All that throwing and the catching and also the running and tackling... all of it was top-drawer, wot.
As if that weren't enough, look at this picture:
Aw, lookit 'em. Look at the poor, sad Raiders. Is there anything better in sports than sad Raiders? Well, there was that one time when Anna Kournikova was hitting a tennis ball and her skirt kind of twirled up and you could almost make out a faint outline of camel-toe--to this day, the most celebrated sporting moment in the history of the internet--but no, that's not what I was thinking of.
The only thing better than Sad Raiders is when Sad Raiders are rendered so NOT just by general suckage but when said state is a result of an ass-whoopin' by the San Diego (Super)Chargers.
You go, LaDainian Tomlinson! You're a sexy, sexy bitch. I don't even care how stupid your first name is anymore, you totally totally rock.
And that was it, man. That was it for SoCal related sports this weekend. Yeah, there was some exhibition basketball and some hockey games, but everyone knows neither of those count for anything. But as far as I know there was nothing else. Nothing. Nothing.
Wait, hang on... there might have been some kind of baseball game. I'm not really sure. I don't really follow it. Baseball is stupid. I feel sorry for those guys who follow the team(s) that lost, whomever they may be. As a sports fan, I can understand their pain, I guess. I suppose it would be hard to take if the team you had followed for seven months--and overall for better than two decades--through every ball and strike, through all the ebbs and flows of Fortune through streaks and injuries, dying with each low only to be born again with every life-giving high... if that team had showed you so much promise and so much of what feels very much like reciprocated love, more than you could ever hope for even from your own family, whom you find cold and distant since you've withdrawn your love and affection for them and turned it all instead to this scrappy young menagerie of dirty-faced multi-millionaires, if that team had dangled the carrot of reflected glory in front of you only to sharpen the carrot to a point and then drive it through the hearts of your children, rape your wife with it and then jammed it through your eye sockets, leaving you bleeding and blind, wishing for death but alive, knowing that you'll only heal, slowly, and with the softening distance of time and memory and several handfuls of mood-altering drugs, you'll be ready to start the cycle again when pitchers and catcher report for Spring Training in February.
Man, I'm glad I'm not one of them.
On an unrelated side note, I'd like to say that lithium is awesome. If I drove a 4-inch steel spike through my tongue with a rubber mallet, I bet I wouldn't even feel it. Dare me to try it? OK.
Back. Wow, was I wrong. It smarts like a motherfucker. I may actually bleed to death. Emotionally, however, I'm OK with that.
This post on the motherfucking thing about the guy: 4-1