Despite all appearances to the contrary, I have not been consumed by a fiery pit of hell due to my salacious and scandalous lifestyle. Yet. My employer foolishly expected to get some work out of me after two weeks off, and the Thanksgiving holiday provided a much-needed break after a few days of backbreaking labor. I should probably note here that I get paid to sit in an office all day and order people around. But don't let that diminish your sympathy for my horrendous plight.
The Mister and I managed to emerge from our cocoon of leftover poultry and casseroles to attend a football game today, where we were able to witness the Tennessee Titans thump Eli Manning like the little bitch he is. The highlight of the experience had to be that we were fortunate enough to sit next to an inebriated gentleman who took great pleasure in proclaiming the opposing team members' proclivity for sissyhood. Throughout the game we were delighted by his cries of "Hey there number 41... You're a SISSY! Don't let the bench bruise your little SISSY ass!" When the defense took the field we were regaled with cries of "Look at the little SISSY boys out there, trying to find a ball to intercept!" After the referree announced a penalty for an ineligible receiver we heard "Ten yards for having an illegal SISSY on the team!!!"
Initially I thought his taunting was rather sophomoric and unoriginal, but by halftime I decided that he was the most hysterical fucker I'd ever had the good fortune to encounter. The skeptics among you may say that was because I was well on the way to inebriation myself, but I will maintain that it just took me half a game to appreciate his genius.
Anyway, I promise to try to do better with this whole posting nonsense. I'm slowly digging my way out from the work, the laundry, and the leftovers. In the meantime, I'll leave you with one of my favorite pictures from our Australia trip, taken in Fitzroy Gardens in Melbourne.
Peace out, bitches!
The Mister and I managed to emerge from our cocoon of leftover poultry and casseroles to attend a football game today, where we were able to witness the Tennessee Titans thump Eli Manning like the little bitch he is. The highlight of the experience had to be that we were fortunate enough to sit next to an inebriated gentleman who took great pleasure in proclaiming the opposing team members' proclivity for sissyhood. Throughout the game we were delighted by his cries of "Hey there number 41... You're a SISSY! Don't let the bench bruise your little SISSY ass!" When the defense took the field we were regaled with cries of "Look at the little SISSY boys out there, trying to find a ball to intercept!" After the referree announced a penalty for an ineligible receiver we heard "Ten yards for having an illegal SISSY on the team!!!"
Initially I thought his taunting was rather sophomoric and unoriginal, but by halftime I decided that he was the most hysterical fucker I'd ever had the good fortune to encounter. The skeptics among you may say that was because I was well on the way to inebriation myself, but I will maintain that it just took me half a game to appreciate his genius.
Anyway, I promise to try to do better with this whole posting nonsense. I'm slowly digging my way out from the work, the laundry, and the leftovers. In the meantime, I'll leave you with one of my favorite pictures from our Australia trip, taken in Fitzroy Gardens in Melbourne.
Peace out, bitches!
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