Happiness is an unbeaten football season
http://www.visaliatimesdelta.com
Go ahead. Cut me off in traffic. Deliver my dinner steak barely in time for breakfast.
Blab endlessly into your cell phone while in front of me in the grocery store express lane — after letting your "My Humps" ringtone blast for seven minutes before answering.
Just try to spoil my mood.
You'll fail.
Because my Dallas Cowboys are 3-0 this season — hopefully 4-0 by the time this page soaks up your puppy's mess Sunday evening.
Want world peace?
Get everyone behind a winning football team.
Happiness is that easy. I haven't stopped smiling for four weeks, even through trips to the toilet and DMV, thanks to winning Dallas football. It's made me a better husband. Usually requests like this from Wifey get me fuming:
"I need you to go to the store to get chili beans, tortillas, two tomatoes exactly the shade of Julia Roberts' hair in 'Pretty Woman,' a carton of milk that expires exactly on Dec. 17, water chestnuts and some good news about Britney Spears."
"Sure," I answered Sunday after the 'Boys annihilated another opponent.
After seven hours at the grocery store, 6 1/2 of which were spent looking for water chestnuts, I finally had everything Wifey wanted.
(If you must know, Britney's good news is that National Geographic tracked down two people in an isolated village in Siberia who don't think she's crazy.)
While waiting in the express lane — the dude in front of me was only 21 items over the limit, but I'm in no mood to complain — I noticed a few odd magazine headlines.
"Brad and Angelina water grass — exclusive photos!"
"How to lose 50 pounds in three minutes."
"Fifty ways to please your man."
I picked up the latter and read.
What a bogus article. I expected something like "compliment his football team's strong running game and/or depth at nose tackle" or "scout Division II schools in your spare time to help his team draft a hidden gem."
Football wasn't even mentioned.
It was all sex this, sex that, sex here, sex there.
Please, ladies, we're not pieces of meat. We have feelings and emotions.
The author failed to realize that men have a sliver of brain that, when properly stimulated, leads to lasting, overwhelming elation.
Bordering what psychophysiologists call the Air Guitar Fissure of the brain, it's known as the Yeah Baby My Football Team Is Better Than Yours Fissure of the Brain.
Of course, not everyone is born with it these days.
Just call them Raider fans.
Go ahead. Cut me off in traffic. Deliver my dinner steak barely in time for breakfast.
Blab endlessly into your cell phone while in front of me in the grocery store express lane — after letting your "My Humps" ringtone blast for seven minutes before answering.
Just try to spoil my mood.
You'll fail.
Because my Dallas Cowboys are 3-0 this season — hopefully 4-0 by the time this page soaks up your puppy's mess Sunday evening.
Want world peace?
Get everyone behind a winning football team.
Happiness is that easy. I haven't stopped smiling for four weeks, even through trips to the toilet and DMV, thanks to winning Dallas football. It's made me a better husband. Usually requests like this from Wifey get me fuming:
"I need you to go to the store to get chili beans, tortillas, two tomatoes exactly the shade of Julia Roberts' hair in 'Pretty Woman,' a carton of milk that expires exactly on Dec. 17, water chestnuts and some good news about Britney Spears."
"Sure," I answered Sunday after the 'Boys annihilated another opponent.
After seven hours at the grocery store, 6 1/2 of which were spent looking for water chestnuts, I finally had everything Wifey wanted.
(If you must know, Britney's good news is that National Geographic tracked down two people in an isolated village in Siberia who don't think she's crazy.)
While waiting in the express lane — the dude in front of me was only 21 items over the limit, but I'm in no mood to complain — I noticed a few odd magazine headlines.
"Brad and Angelina water grass — exclusive photos!"
"How to lose 50 pounds in three minutes."
"Fifty ways to please your man."
I picked up the latter and read.
What a bogus article. I expected something like "compliment his football team's strong running game and/or depth at nose tackle" or "scout Division II schools in your spare time to help his team draft a hidden gem."
Football wasn't even mentioned.
It was all sex this, sex that, sex here, sex there.
Please, ladies, we're not pieces of meat. We have feelings and emotions.
The author failed to realize that men have a sliver of brain that, when properly stimulated, leads to lasting, overwhelming elation.
Bordering what psychophysiologists call the Air Guitar Fissure of the brain, it's known as the Yeah Baby My Football Team Is Better Than Yours Fissure of the Brain.
Of course, not everyone is born with it these days.
Just call them Raider fans.
posted by The Gryphon at 10:14 AM
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