I've debated all week long on whether to post this or not. It's funny as hell, but it's also kind of incriminating and just plain trashy to talk about such things. Anyway, since the other party doesn't have a problem with it, here goes. I had a guest this weekend, and in the early morning hours on Monday I startled her awake by shoving her to the other side of the bed and demanding she hand me the controller so I can do some recruiting. That's right, people, I had a hot girl in my bed and foremost in my dreams was landing a solid recruiting class for the Lobos. That is wrong on so many different levels.
Sweet dreams are made of these...
Sweet dreams are made of these...
8 Comments:
Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. That's so...so...damn, man. I mean, how does that go? "No, baby -- I don't want to fool around again. Fire up the PlayStation. I need to land that hot QB recruit NOW!" It's always an easy choice for me: "PlayStation, boobs. PlayStation, boobs. Boobs it is." But then again, I've never gotten past first base with my PS2.
Dude, it's your world! We just live in it.
The only think that would've made that better was to say "Baby, go get daddy a brewsky."
in my defense, i was asleep when it happened. it's not like i was all "get off me woman, it's time for football."
Actually, I'm sure, "get off me woman, it's time for football," is heard all over the South during Saturday mornings in the fall. Fortunately, if you're with the right gal, she's the one bitching at you to get up and get ready for the game.
Oh...she is.
I immediately thought of this scene from Mallrats:
[After a night in bed with his girlfriend, Brodie picks up a controller and continues a paused video game]
Rene: What are you doing? You promised me breakfast.
Brodie: Breakfast, shmreakfast. Look at the score! It's only the second period and I'm up 12 to 2. Breakfasts come and go, Rene, but Hartford, "the Whale," they only beat Vancouver once, maybe twice in a lifetime.
You boys are so sad.
Where's the html for the Fark "Hero" tag, dammit....
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