That's it. My Head Just Fucking Exploded.
Oh. My. God.
I...
Ok.
From the "OMG, fixing toilets is for dads and boyfriends" file:
Whitney Casey.
There are few things in this world that can send me into a firey cataclysmic rage faster than than being late and being lost. However, this morning, in the safety of my apartment where I was neither late, nor lost, I nearly willed old people into my living room so that I could strangle, then drown them.
This rage was caused by one woman.
Whitney Casey.
Author of another in a long line of godawful book written for desperate women seeking to land/keep a man. These books generally advise women in a clever, cheeky way that "It's ok to be a woman. The 1950's were awesome!" Look, I love chivalry as much as the next woman and have marked its absence in many a dating situation. However, I'm not ready to give up my brain and my integrity simply to snag a guy who has no clue how to be chivalrous anyway. It's a waste of time.
This morning Ms. Casey thought to impart some of her "wisdom" by teaching women "How to Survive the Superbowl."
Alright. Let me preface all of the following with this:
It is 2009. If you don't have at least a passing knowledge of sports, or an ability to entertain yourself while they are happening, I cannot help you. Seriously. I can't. There is a rite of passage every girl goes through as a child. And that's the day her dad tells her to "Go play in the other room, the game is on." Now, any dad worth his salt these days, helps his little girl appreciate the awesome that is a football game or a hockey game, but it doesn't always happen. So, a girl has a choice: suck it up and watch the game and learn how to appreciate it, or go in the other fucking room, play Barbies and learn how to live without her dad/man for a few hours.
Whatever. Anyway, Ms. Casey, fucking idiot that she is, had some of the following to say about how a woman should behave during sporting events, specifically, the Superbowl:
-Keep your mouth shut. No matter how much you think you know about the game of football, the teams playing, or next season's draft picks, your man has no interest in what you have to say. Ever.
-Don't think that half-time is your time. Because Bruce Springsteen is playing and all men love Bruce Springsteen. And unless you want a backhand to the face, you'll keep your mouth shut. Also, he may use this time to place another bet.
-Watch yourself during commercial breaks. Commercials are hilarious during the Superbowl. Also, he may be trying to place another bet. (seriously.)
-Don't joke about cheering for the opposite team he is. He could have a lot of money riding on the game! Also, find out what the point spread is. Sometimes, women get confused (exact wording) when it comes to the point spread. You'll need to understand why he's suddenly changed the team he's rooting for.
-Bring him food.
I wish I was goddamned kidding.
Apparently, according to this woman, all men are pigs when it comes to sports. Also, they have raging gambling habits we're supposed to condone and bear quietly.
Here's my reality. If I behaved this way during a game, my fiance would leave me.
Here's the real reality.
First of all, this is Chicago. I don't know many men who give a shit about this years Steelers/Cardinals (that's Pittsburg/Arizona for those playing along at home) match up. If they do, it's only because of Fantasy Leagues. And I'm not even sure that Fantasy Football carries into the Superbowl.
Second: Her alarming acceptance of rampant gambling has me concerned. Her attitude suggests that he's going to gamble and if you don't like it, that's just tough. Maybe it's just me, but if someone's gambling is at the point where he's got "a lot of money riding on a game", and your involvement in the game "interferes with his gambling" and he's "placing more bets during half time", perhaps a conversation needs to happen. About his addiction. To fucking gambling.
Third: If you really aren't interested in the game, that's ok. Seriously. It's fine. He's not interested (probably) in manicures and knitting. But you don't see him reading books on how to cope with all the manicures and knitting in your life. (I use these examples because I am avidly interested in these two activities, ladies, not because ALL women are. ) The point is, don't fucking pout about having to put up with sports in your man's life. And if you need a goddamned book to teach you how to get along with Sports enthusiasts, you probably have a bigger problem.
If you can't beat them, join them, and if you can't join them, go get a fucking manicure. Easy.
I...
Ok.
From the "OMG, fixing toilets is for dads and boyfriends" file:
Whitney Casey.
There are few things in this world that can send me into a firey cataclysmic rage faster than than being late and being lost. However, this morning, in the safety of my apartment where I was neither late, nor lost, I nearly willed old people into my living room so that I could strangle, then drown them.
This rage was caused by one woman.
Whitney Casey.
Author of another in a long line of godawful book written for desperate women seeking to land/keep a man. These books generally advise women in a clever, cheeky way that "It's ok to be a woman. The 1950's were awesome!" Look, I love chivalry as much as the next woman and have marked its absence in many a dating situation. However, I'm not ready to give up my brain and my integrity simply to snag a guy who has no clue how to be chivalrous anyway. It's a waste of time.
This morning Ms. Casey thought to impart some of her "wisdom" by teaching women "How to Survive the Superbowl."
Alright. Let me preface all of the following with this:
It is 2009. If you don't have at least a passing knowledge of sports, or an ability to entertain yourself while they are happening, I cannot help you. Seriously. I can't. There is a rite of passage every girl goes through as a child. And that's the day her dad tells her to "Go play in the other room, the game is on." Now, any dad worth his salt these days, helps his little girl appreciate the awesome that is a football game or a hockey game, but it doesn't always happen. So, a girl has a choice: suck it up and watch the game and learn how to appreciate it, or go in the other fucking room, play Barbies and learn how to live without her dad/man for a few hours.
Whatever. Anyway, Ms. Casey, fucking idiot that she is, had some of the following to say about how a woman should behave during sporting events, specifically, the Superbowl:
-Keep your mouth shut. No matter how much you think you know about the game of football, the teams playing, or next season's draft picks, your man has no interest in what you have to say. Ever.
-Don't think that half-time is your time. Because Bruce Springsteen is playing and all men love Bruce Springsteen. And unless you want a backhand to the face, you'll keep your mouth shut. Also, he may use this time to place another bet.
-Watch yourself during commercial breaks. Commercials are hilarious during the Superbowl. Also, he may be trying to place another bet. (seriously.)
-Don't joke about cheering for the opposite team he is. He could have a lot of money riding on the game! Also, find out what the point spread is. Sometimes, women get confused (exact wording) when it comes to the point spread. You'll need to understand why he's suddenly changed the team he's rooting for.
-Bring him food.
I wish I was goddamned kidding.
Apparently, according to this woman, all men are pigs when it comes to sports. Also, they have raging gambling habits we're supposed to condone and bear quietly.
Here's my reality. If I behaved this way during a game, my fiance would leave me.
Here's the real reality.
First of all, this is Chicago. I don't know many men who give a shit about this years Steelers/Cardinals (that's Pittsburg/Arizona for those playing along at home) match up. If they do, it's only because of Fantasy Leagues. And I'm not even sure that Fantasy Football carries into the Superbowl.
Second: Her alarming acceptance of rampant gambling has me concerned. Her attitude suggests that he's going to gamble and if you don't like it, that's just tough. Maybe it's just me, but if someone's gambling is at the point where he's got "a lot of money riding on a game", and your involvement in the game "interferes with his gambling" and he's "placing more bets during half time", perhaps a conversation needs to happen. About his addiction. To fucking gambling.
Third: If you really aren't interested in the game, that's ok. Seriously. It's fine. He's not interested (probably) in manicures and knitting. But you don't see him reading books on how to cope with all the manicures and knitting in your life. (I use these examples because I am avidly interested in these two activities, ladies, not because ALL women are. ) The point is, don't fucking pout about having to put up with sports in your man's life. And if you need a goddamned book to teach you how to get along with Sports enthusiasts, you probably have a bigger problem.
If you can't beat them, join them, and if you can't join them, go get a fucking manicure. Easy.
posted by LC Greenwood at 7:56 AM
3 Comments:
Goddamn I love you.
I have actually read your blog for quite a while and can no longer sit in silence...you crack my shit up!!! While I don't always relate to what you write about (i don't watch Star Trek) this one nailed it and made me smile, thanks.
(I also really liked your recent Obama blog and totally agree)
I never watch the Suprbowl. Never.
I don't give a rat's behind.
However...this year is different.
Half Time. Springsteen. 'Nuff Said.
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