...after some time I got sick of taking second fiddle. I tried real hard to fit it and to do what the "hes" always wanted. To give them a fair shake and all, but I got sick eventually, and resented them for their intrusions and selfishness.
How was I to know they thought that climbing a tree stand every fall to pass gas and snore was considered a sport? I climbed trees when I was eight, hell even at fifteen, to get away from my nagging stepmother's cruel treatment. But I don't think I could ever classify that as a sporting adventure. And though there were many woodland and sky creatures spotted, I never once thought it was sporty of me to kill them off just because I could. Don't get me wrong. I am feral and eat meat, all meat, and I know Uncle Ted Nugent wants me to be responsible and accept and participate where my food resources come from... FINE! Then Uncle Teddy should have smacked the shit out of my dad when he made me hold the capon chickens while he whacked them like a "jersey bro!"
I feel for all the football wives out there, really I do (runs off in corner and snickers)...It must be so hard to have your man home and around during commercial breaks to tell you how appreciated you are and to help what little bit they do on this, a holy autumnal right of passage day... sixteen days a year and playoffs and occasional Monday evenings for three hours...how bad is it? It isn't like your man has gone all ape-shit for doe urine and fawn bleats and started climbing trees and disappearing from 2am until well after sundown, citing that it is important to check in on the competition. It's not like he's gone every Saturday and Sunday from September until March, and every Friday during that time frame after work, at his local pub planning his strategy for getting plastered and climbing trees and what yarns they'll tell for their failures.
Fridays you get a willing hubby who will go to the supercenter and shop and such with you and go to dinner with you all after his long day at work because he knows you will be kind and help him get ready for the game. He even offers to do the dishes and mow the yard Saturday and go for a drive. I know this not because I was a football wife, but because I was the wife of a football widower.
All I ask is for 1pm to 11pm on Sunday nights and occasional Monday nights. But no, I have to go out and put on camo and watch him fall through the boughs of a tree, or sit in a go-cart while he rolls a little fucking dimpled ball on grass in a field where there should be homes for the homeless or more schools and parks for our children. Or even better...he takes up the tvs watching other sissies rolling balls around like overgrown dung beetles trying to flex for mating season. I even had one significant other that had to do the car show thingy! What a sport that was. Walking around and saying "oh man!" over and over because you want what little Stevie Brown has, as usual.
So every Saturday I dust and clean and bake and shop and socialize and call and visit and do the family/friend thingy. All in the hopes that when the four clocks in my bedroom click 1pm, I have made enough food for my "football orphan" and I, and that she is smart enough to leave mommy alone with the sexy gorillas in the tights pants. She's a good kid. She used to watch, like I used to try and be a good "sport" with my neglectful others. But she has different tastes now and just accepts and waits her turn for my affection. What if someone dies? you ask...then I'm no messiah and they'll keep 'em in the cooler down at the morgue until Monday...what if someone gets hurt? you ask...call a freeking doctor from the other room-QUIETLY!....what if someone comes over and rings the bell or calls? you ask....hahahaha not on their lives. Not if they value them. And if they don't know the nature of this beast, trust me, they will learn quick....I just love the smell of "Jehovah Witness Fear" on a Sunday morning. Goes great with coffee and crumpets! hahahahaha
It is forty past noon. Sunday. The Patriots play at one. They aren't showing it here. So do "his" Rams. They're not showing that either. But I have a Miami Dolphins @ Green Bay game coming on and three open tabs on the laptop and will watch four of these puppies! At four the pickings suck so my little Lobo won't be orphaned for too long...at least not between 4pm and 8pm anyways...so don't call, I won't answer and don't stop by-if I answer the door, it will be crazed and naked... and don't complain. Why?
...because I might take up a bird watching hobby from Friday night until Sunday night fifty-two weeks a year! Or better yet...call you and bother you when Nascar in on!!! MUWAH-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ah-HAH!!~mobe's love to you all and her all to her loves!
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