Monday Night at the Farm

MONDAY NIGHT AT THE FARM

Obviously I have been reading too much of Bill Simmons on ESPN page two, but as I get a little goofy here, too goofy to try to sleep, hopped up on Sunkist orange and Diablo XXX salsa, which has less punch then a twelve year old girl with cirrhosis of the liver, I have decided to write MONDAY NIGHT AT THE FARM,  Right so without further ado, (Blaring Country Music)

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FARMING?

6:30 p.m. Indiana (This would be 7:30 eastern because the entire state of Indiana is either too ignorant or too lazy to change their clocks like the rest of the freaking country.  Why is it that rednecks always got to be different?)

            A bit of college nostalgia leads me to start peeling potatoes and cooking sausage, and despite the fact that I now have a dishwasher and trust the fact that my plates are clean I mix my mashed potatoes and sausage and frozen corn all into one pot and eat out of it ala college keg table Simpson/Friendsathons.

7:00 p.m.  Dinner finally ready I sit down to watch television.

Unfortunately it was ruined because, since the only channel I get on the TV is ABC, I was forced to watch Who Wants to be a Millionaire, this time the absurdity of the questions reached a new low as they brought in sports stars like Carl Lewis and Steve Young.  After eating I go outside with Kelly, my dog of course, to pee, well for her to pee, I can do that inside; well she could do that inside . . . never mind.

8:00 p.m. It’s the start of Monday Night Football and my Favorite Al Michaels moment.

He looks at Dennis Miller after his monologue of outrageous metaphors and tells him he always seems a mile high.  Dennis Miller on camera at the moment first starts to laugh, and then realizes that he is so whacked out on cocaine or vodka or Zoloft that it is actually true so he makes a look as if to concede the point.

9:00ish p.m.

While the game was fascinating I was distracted early in the second quarter as a moth violently attacked my copper lamp, nearly knocking itself unconscious and then going back for more.  It continued to hurl itself at the light bulb bounce off and smack into the lampshade, I haven’t seen such blind persistence since I was last at the bar and needed a beer.  So here’s to Brutal Moth dude, a fighter even when the odds are against him, someone who knows what he wants and goes to get it no matter what the consequences

9:25 p.m.

After smelling something burning, and looking around for a while I was dismayed to find that brutal moth fried to a lovely golden brown in my halogen lamp.  The funeral is cut short when he falls out of my hand onto the floor and Kelly eats him.

Shortly later:

One of my favorite sports sites, a Quarterback stumbling off the field grass sticking out from all over his helmet, his shoulder pad sticking out from under his jersey.   Yet another reason turf should be banned.

One Second Left in the Half:

Dragged out as usual, but this time in unusual style.

Something you don’t see everyday one team attempting a field goal and then on the next play the other team attempting the field goal, something about that thin air at Mile High Stadium, either it’s easier to kick, or it kills so many brain cells it makes you call crazy plays.

Best Monday Night Football Commercial: Southwest airlines IT MUST BE FOOTBALL SEASON campaign is back, this time a young check out worker at a supermarket walks up to a lane turns on the light and says “I’m open over here.”  Meanwhile, football fan shopper hears this and grabs a pineapple, (The perfect fruit for the occasion,) and guns it into the unsuspecting boys chest and face.  Two notes, one it was the perfect throw, right on the numbers, and two, either this kid is going to be an academy award actor, has absolutely no reflexes or was actually taken by surprise, because no one can have anything thrown at them like that and not even flinch, I mean give this kid a golden globe, that astronaut statue with the popcorn, an old Grammy, something.  Damn that boy is good.

Third Quarter:

Third down-and-one, tie game, and I make the mistake of looking at my dog, fishing under the daybed.  She comes out with an ancient Koosh Ball and starts shaking it like it was a rabid Squirrel coming after her family, then she promptly falls on her side rolls over, Koosh hanging from her mouth and starts sneezing.  Seriously, if you aren’t laughing you haven’t quite pictured this correctly, big dog lying on her back legs out in all four directions blue and yellow Koosh hanging down sneezing violently over and over, her face twitching with every blow.  Either that is high comedy or I am beginning to be starved for a viable release for my under used sense of humor, I think maybe it’s both. Somehow the Broncos score.

Minutes Later:

Koosh now found I set up a little football of my own, sending Kelly deep she instead runs a curl route while jumping and barking, under pressure I am flushed from the pocket, (aka I start running around in my pajama bottoms pretending I am eluding would be sackers) I throw deep to the end zone, and it is intercepted by the TV antenna and Monday Night Football disappears into a ball of snow.  Winded I have to sit down for about ten minutes, I only get up to pop about four IB2s, my old knee injury kicking in, okay, okay, my old sit on the couch, watch football, drink beer, go to the bar, jump on a trampoline and fall off, laziness, stupidity, injury kicking in.

Still Third Quarter:

Antenna still broken Charlie, (alias Richard Dean Anderson) finds an old Exact-O knife three pieces of duct tape and some aluminum foil and Monday Night Football is back on the air, I also now get PBS and what appears to be scrambled porn.

Get the game back in time to see a vicious hit and Ed Mcaffery go down.  He doesn’t get up.  Announcing from the booth sounded something like this.

Al: . . . and Mcaffery shaken up on the play, still down.

Dan: Yeah this is a violent, violent game and you hate to see this, but anytime that you throw the ball down the field and a receiver catches that ball, and begins to run with it, and a guy from the opposing team tackles that guy and brutally snaps his leg in two places, you’re probably not going to see him play again tonight.

Dennis: Wow I could hear that from the booth, that hit had more decibels than a Greco Roman Wrestler’s fart in a tin shed after eating peanut butter, am I right?  I mean what are the odds of Eddie getting up after that, I mean, really, am I right?

Dan: What did he say?

Al: you hate to see this, a prominent player, a go to guy getting hurt . . .

Melissa Stark: That’s right Al, Ed Mcafferey has a fractured leg and is very hurt, I asked team doctors what they thought of the replacement officials Al, and I think Brian Griese is hot, back to you Al.

Al: Eric Dickerson, how are the running backs doing tonight.

ED: Well, Albie dey is dun fine oder here, bud now dat Eddie substanified dat leg breakage, dey really god to run.

Dan: What did he say?

Dennis: HBO rules!

Al: Somebody shoot me now.

Late in the Game Random Note:

Is it just me, or does mike Shanahan, the coach for the Denver Broncos have twitchy face?  It goes from a blank stare, to a grimace, to a smile, to a furrowed brow in cycles of about ten seconds.  What the hell is that? 

My “Only In Football” Moment

Ed Mcaffery breaks his leg and is carted off the field in a little golf cart.  The crowd tries to cheer him off the field, make him feel better about the situation.  What does he do?  He raises his hands in the air clasped together in an effort to pump up the crowd.  The crowd sees this and goes absolutely nuts screaming and stomping.  76,000 fans cheered that man off the field, what a fucking sport.  Oops sorry about the language.

End of Game

Lost for something to do, I write this instead of opting for sleep.  Yeah, good call.