I don't know if its that I forget what football season feels like, or if I am so deeply traumatized by it, that I somehow manage to erase it entirely from my memory during blissful Spring and Summer seasons with hubby, but I've been rudely awakened to the fact that it is once again upon us.
Preseason games have started. And with it, in our house at least, a slew of extra curricular football activities that seem to somehow fill a void that can only be filled by ACTUAL NFL games, that start in September. I compare it to a heroin addict, who until his needle can be filled, makes do with A LOT OF POT.
The "pot" part of the analogy begins in August, when Madden hits stores. Not that Madden hasn't been a permanent fixture of course. But Madden 08 has new features like "more lifelike plays" and it makes pizza. Also in August is the FANTASY FOOTBALL DRAFT. In case you don't know, I have been assured repeatedly by my husband that yes, this does require him to spend about $100 on various fantasy football magazines, research various players on line for hours at a time, and completely immerse himself in football reports from training camps across the country via Rich Eisen etc. on NFL Network. There was a time in my house when you switched on either of our TVs and you got Noggin or Nick Jr. Now, BOTH TVs seem to be permanently tuned to NFL Network.
And to prove my husband's tireless addiction is unrelenting, this year, just when I thought I caught a glimpse of him without his Packer t-shirt on (and slapping the veins on the inside of his arm in readiness), he informs me that he has joined a fantasy football league at work. Great. How much worse can it get? How much more of my husband can I lose for the next few months? Was I so cruel, so bad in a past life, that I must endure not one but two fantasy football leagues?
Clearly, I was Genghis Khan in a previous life. My husband is also scheduled to participate in the 2008 EA Sports Madden Challenge. If he doesn't win it, then there must be some fucked up, jobless, wifeless, lifeless dudes out there that literally play Madden all day.
Did I say Genghis Khan? I meant the bastart love child of Adolf Hitler and Genghis Khan. Hubby also does a Packer podcast! Yes, once a week, he gets to sit in a room with his best Packer buddy, drink beer and talk about nothing but the Packers for 3 whole hours! With somebody who knows what the fuck he's on about!
So right about now, he feels like he's been given methadone. But there's not long to wait before the real deal starts. For me that's such a treat, I can get down to the business of actually enjoying some real football games, eating way too many brats, and this season, thoroughly missing alcohol. And of course, being the shoulder for my husband to lean on when he discovers that a quarter of his fantasy drafts have early onset osteoporosis, or illegal hamster racing farms in Iowa. And I can't pretend I don't look forward to getting a brand new husband at the end of each season; pumped, fulfilled and raring to spend endless months of Sundays with me at Ikea.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thursday, August 2, 2007
I Love You Brett Favre (But I Love My Husband More)
Wooo, yeah, my fourth blog, hand claps, high fives, woooo woooo........oh, wait, no, I can't do this. Its really hot today. Really really hot. And I'm from England. Where it rains. A lot. And in the Summer you still need a jacket in the evening. Civilized weather.
In lieu of having an experience outside of my office I would like to talk about Brett Favre. Unfortunately it was not Brett who chatted me up on Monday. Would my life be different if it had been? I can tell you, unequivocally, no. Because Brett Favre is fantastic, and gorgeous and heroic, and throws football with broken thumbs. And I love that. Excuse me, show me a woman who doesn't. Sure, he's had his "issues" but that just adds to the appeal. Bad boy made good. And he's getting on in years, and his beard is turning grey. God, the man just keeps getting better.
But I know somebody else like that. And that's what I'm going to talk about. How I am married to my very own "Brett Favre".
My husband played football in school (so did Brett)
My husband has 2 daughters (so does Brett)
My hubsand is fantastic and gorgeous (so is Brett)
My husband plays football every single day on his playstation (almost like Brett)
My husband is focused mentally and physically for the start of the season by reading every single football website/blog/magazine available so that he can be at the top of his (fantasy) game and maybe win a case of beer (just like Brett who's been training probably not even that much)
My husband has maintained his weight from last year (almost the same as Brett's beautiful 220 pounds)
My husband is married to a strong, supportive, fiercely loyal woman (exactly like Brett)
My husband knows that his football career may be coming to an end so he's working on broadcast stuff (just like we know Brett must be)
As quoted in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel today "He's made the committment to do everything he possibly could to get himself ready for the season. His work ethic makes this program work". They mean Brett by the way, not my husband.
Try this experiment. Instead of looking at you husband tonight over dinner, and wondering why in God's good earth isnt' he more like John Stamos or whoever floats your boat, try and find the similarities between hubby and the object of your desires. They are there, bubbling under the surface just waiting to be discovered. And they are all yours.
In lieu of having an experience outside of my office I would like to talk about Brett Favre. Unfortunately it was not Brett who chatted me up on Monday. Would my life be different if it had been? I can tell you, unequivocally, no. Because Brett Favre is fantastic, and gorgeous and heroic, and throws football with broken thumbs. And I love that. Excuse me, show me a woman who doesn't. Sure, he's had his "issues" but that just adds to the appeal. Bad boy made good. And he's getting on in years, and his beard is turning grey. God, the man just keeps getting better.
But I know somebody else like that. And that's what I'm going to talk about. How I am married to my very own "Brett Favre".
My husband played football in school (so did Brett)
My husband has 2 daughters (so does Brett)
My hubsand is fantastic and gorgeous (so is Brett)
My husband plays football every single day on his playstation (almost like Brett)
My husband is focused mentally and physically for the start of the season by reading every single football website/blog/magazine available so that he can be at the top of his (fantasy) game and maybe win a case of beer (just like Brett who's been training probably not even that much)
My husband has maintained his weight from last year (almost the same as Brett's beautiful 220 pounds)
My husband is married to a strong, supportive, fiercely loyal woman (exactly like Brett)
My husband knows that his football career may be coming to an end so he's working on broadcast stuff (just like we know Brett must be)
As quoted in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel today "He's made the committment to do everything he possibly could to get himself ready for the season. His work ethic makes this program work". They mean Brett by the way, not my husband.
Try this experiment. Instead of looking at you husband tonight over dinner, and wondering why in God's good earth isnt' he more like John Stamos or whoever floats your boat, try and find the similarities between hubby and the object of your desires. They are there, bubbling under the surface just waiting to be discovered. And they are all yours.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Leave My Tits Alone Bloomberg!
Hat tip to my hubby for alerting me to the latest in the great, huge, enormous conspiracy to return to an era when men controlled women. It seems that all the decision making that women do by themselves these days, is beginning to irk the powers that be. Namely Mayor Bloomberg, who has decided that instead of spending his time making sure that children can go to school and not get shot or that there is actually a teacher there for them, he has decided to spend his time making breast feeding mandatory.
Full disclosure; I did not breast feed either of my children. That is my decision, and one that I made alone. I didn't even discuss it with my husband. Its my body, its my decision. I am thrilled for anybody that wants to breast feed, and I am equally happy if you don't. Actually, I've just realized, I dont' give a shit if you breast feed your baby or not. As long as you feed the damn thing, that's grand!
Apparently only a quarter of New York moms choose to breast feed their babies at the moment, and Bloomberg doesn't like that. I'm sure that there are a number of variables that go into the decision to breast feed your baby or not. And in New York City, there are even more challenges. For starters we are walkers. We walk everywhere, we ride the subway, we ride the bus, we take cabs. Most people don't have there own cars. Its not like we are at the mall when Junior suddenly starts to wail so we can hop out to the carpark and sit in the back of a spanking clean minivan.
In New York City, Junior wants to be fed and you are on the subway (ugh, a disgusting place in terms of hygiene and privacy at the best of times. Did you know that there was a study done where they took samples from the subway and found FECAL MATTER!!!!). Junior wants to be fed in Barnes and Noble ("There is a strange man staring at you in personal growth"). Junior wants to be fed while you are eating. I've seen the way diners look at a breast feeding mother. She may as well be re-enacting the final scenes from Scarface, the look of terror and disgust on people's faces. ("Say hello to my little friends")
If Bloomberg really wants to help babies and children in our fair city then he should start with decent bloody childcare and after school programs. He should start with healthy, nutritious meals for children in schools instead of fried fried food with some fried food on the side, he should get kids moving by making sports (as in running, football, soccer, tennis, swimming etc. not throwing a bean bag in a hole) mandatory at least twice a week.
What he should NOT be doing is telling me, or anybody else, how and what to feed my baby. That is too personal and it feels like the beginning of a much larger issue. What's next? "Woman contradicts husband, sentenced to seven years".
He's being a cheap fucker, and as always the first people to feel the pinch are our children. You shouldn't stand for it, I won't.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Full disclosure; I did not breast feed either of my children. That is my decision, and one that I made alone. I didn't even discuss it with my husband. Its my body, its my decision. I am thrilled for anybody that wants to breast feed, and I am equally happy if you don't. Actually, I've just realized, I dont' give a shit if you breast feed your baby or not. As long as you feed the damn thing, that's grand!
Apparently only a quarter of New York moms choose to breast feed their babies at the moment, and Bloomberg doesn't like that. I'm sure that there are a number of variables that go into the decision to breast feed your baby or not. And in New York City, there are even more challenges. For starters we are walkers. We walk everywhere, we ride the subway, we ride the bus, we take cabs. Most people don't have there own cars. Its not like we are at the mall when Junior suddenly starts to wail so we can hop out to the carpark and sit in the back of a spanking clean minivan.
In New York City, Junior wants to be fed and you are on the subway (ugh, a disgusting place in terms of hygiene and privacy at the best of times. Did you know that there was a study done where they took samples from the subway and found FECAL MATTER!!!!). Junior wants to be fed in Barnes and Noble ("There is a strange man staring at you in personal growth"). Junior wants to be fed while you are eating. I've seen the way diners look at a breast feeding mother. She may as well be re-enacting the final scenes from Scarface, the look of terror and disgust on people's faces. ("Say hello to my little friends")
If Bloomberg really wants to help babies and children in our fair city then he should start with decent bloody childcare and after school programs. He should start with healthy, nutritious meals for children in schools instead of fried fried food with some fried food on the side, he should get kids moving by making sports (as in running, football, soccer, tennis, swimming etc. not throwing a bean bag in a hole) mandatory at least twice a week.
What he should NOT be doing is telling me, or anybody else, how and what to feed my baby. That is too personal and it feels like the beginning of a much larger issue. What's next? "Woman contradicts husband, sentenced to seven years".
He's being a cheap fucker, and as always the first people to feel the pinch are our children. You shouldn't stand for it, I won't.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
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