Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge

Dick: So here we are, roughly a month after our last post. The Olympics are now over. Baseball is almost over. Football is getting into full swing. My erection has yet to subside...probably shouldn't have shared that one. Pralines, please give us some of that buttery genius.
Pralines: There is nothing more satisfying for me than the start of football season. The air turns crisp, the leaves begin to transition into their myriad fall colors, I can wake up Saturday morning, and I have plans all day. Those plans: plopping my fat (not Pat) white ass down in front of the TV and tune into college football and tune out the rest of the civilized world.
D: Oh, man. I don't care how pathetic it sounds, or how un-college it may be. I just don't care. My weekends are full of football. Friday nights I am roaming the sidelines under the lights. Saturdays I am holed up on the couch watching college games from noon to well past midnight. Sundays I show my true blue Colts fanhood. The crazy thing is that I am a perfectly healthy 21-year-old man, and I don't imbibe on a single alcoholic beverage all weekend. I know how faggy it sounds to say, but football makes me feel better than alcohol ever does.
P: Usually I'm a big time proponent of the "Alcohol makes anything more fun" approach to activities, but I have to agree with you here. I'm not going to say I don't drink at all while I watch some of the games. However, I don't need to drink to enjoy football. I'm rarely more animated and verbose than when I'm watching my favorite teams in action on the gridiron. I'm ridiculously obnoxious when they're winning, and borderline inconsolable when they're stinking worse than their jockstraps.
D: I'm the same way. I know they say you shouldn't get too high on wins or too low on losses, but I go ahead and ignore that advice. I go ape shit if my teams are doing well, and you might as well just not even bother talking to me until Monday afternoon if my teams perform poorly. At the risk of sounding even douchier than normal, I would like to share a story to help illustrate my point. Last weekend, I had company over in the form of a female Pralines and Dick fan (I apologize for starting the story this way. I also apologize for ending the story the way I do and for pretty much telling the story at all. Such is life.) Well this happened to be the same day that my favorite college team, The Ohio State University Fighting Sweater Vests, was bent over a back alley trash can by the Men of Troy. Needless to say I was no longer in a jovial mood. I started sulking and drinking and eventually put myself into a football-and-cheap-alcohol-fueled coma, thus forcing the poor girl to go home disappointed...or at least my giant ego would like me to believe she was disappointed. Hey. Go big or pass out on your couch.
P: We have a female fan? Huzza! Anywho...as much as I try and ignore the pundits who say Ohio St. doesn't belong in the conversation with U.S.C, I only accomplish this by sticking my fingers in my ears and going "LA LA LA LA LA" as loudly as possible. I love the buckeyes and Tressel, but I can't keep fooling myself into thinking they're going to turn it around every season by beating the very best in college football, whether it be against Carroll's Condoms or More With Les Miles' Tiggers of L.S.U.
D: I am a diehard fan, but I am also a realist. I believe that OSU is by far the best team in the Big Ten, but I also understand that the Big Ten pales in comparison to the mighty SEC, is no big Big 12, and is pretty much on par with the PAC-10, save for USC at the top. I don't buy the speed differential thing. Just look at the last 3 NFL drafts, and you will find Buckeye after Buckeye. They aren't slow or bad or anything like that. I think it simply boils down to the mental aspect. Maybe they don't prepare for the big games well enough, maybe they over-prepare and suffer paralysis by analysis, maybe they don't really believe that they can win, maybe the coaches aren't doing their jobs well enough, or maybe it's all of the above. All I know is that OSU saved my ass by losing this game to USC. Had they won and gone on to a third consecutive BCS title game only to be blown out by another Southeastern foe, my head might have exploded. Thanks for taking it easy on me, guys...me and the Trojans.
P: God bless analysts that make sense. Kirk Herbstreit and Mark May are ESPN's two top college foosball gurus in my book. It just goes to show you don't have to receive a senior citizen's discount when you go to Golden Corral to know what you're talking about in college sports. I've got two words for ya: Lou Fuckin Holtz. Come on, ESPN. Save yourself and the Holtz family any future embarrassment by yanking this guy already. He's so out of touch with reality he makes Jim Morrison look like a drug abuse counselor.
D: Holtz...was a good coach. He was. You can't deny that. Now, though, he is about as useful as a poopy-flavored lollipop. His incessant ramblings are unprovoked and illogical, his saliva glands flow like the Wabash River, and he thinks this or any other Notre Dame team would beat the AFC Pro Bowl team by 3 touchdowns. He is one of the worst parts of watching ESPN. He is worse than Jim Rome and Skip Bayless merely because I can turn them off, but I like to watch the college football coverage of which he is a part. I think he and Ted Marchibroda should invest in a condo in Boca Raton together, like now. Ole Teddy probably has a wealth of football intelligence stored up in his salt and pepper dome. He has to have. When he speaks, however, you just get the feeling that he is a poor night's sleep away from total cerebral failure. It is painful to listen to them both.*
P: I guess we all can't be Lee Corso. His analysis isn't exactly what one would refer to as "in-depth" or "useful", but his energy next to Herbstreit's big, sexy brain is outstanding. As lame as the donning of the team's mascot's head he chooses in the game they're at (and it is most certainly lame, Coach Corso), I lay this claim knowing fully well I would lose my mind if I were behind the College Gameday Built By The Home Depot's desk and saw the legendary Lee put on MY team's mascot's smelly head.**
D: I do love the Sunshine Scooter. He reminds me of my grandpa, only less racist and more energetic. I don't get to see much of College Gameday anymore because I have to go watch film of my high school team every Saturday morning (I am reticent to reveal their identity because of the things I say and do on this very blog. I don't want to give the program a black eye or lose my cherry gig. Fucking propriety.), but when I do get to see it, I am glued to the screen. There is scarcely a better on-air trio than Chris Fowler, Kirk Herbstreit, and Lee Corso. What a perfect mix of charisma, ageless exuberance, knowledge, and tradition.
P: And meticulously styled hair.
D: I leave that honorable distinction to my idol and demigod, Mel Kiper Jr.
P: By the way, if your team ever needs a pep-talk from an amateur motivational speaker, I'm offering my services anytime. In my limited time on this planet, I've managed to overcome both sobriety AND anorexia. Now, just look at me.
D: I don't think it would be stretching it to call you an American hero.
D: As far as my team goes, though, I gotta be honest, I'm pretty jacked up. The boys are playing well, and they have yet to hit their stride. Tomorrow we square off against our bitter rival, and they are having just as successful a season as we are. So, dear readers, if you are bored and feel like making the drive, come on out to the Muncie suburbs and watch some high school football under Friday night lights. What, like you have something better to do?
P: It's American. And these colors don't run. Especially if you wash your colors using All Tempera-Cheer. "These sheets are soft. You use Downy?" "No. All Tempera-Cheer. You can wash your clothes at any temperature and the colors won't run together." "Really?" "Yeah, now leave me alone."
D: Speaking of which, I have to go get my clothes out of the dryer. Yep, I no longer drink on weekends, I don't even have class until 11 on Friday morning, and I do laundry on my thirsty Thursdays. Talk about cool.
P: Tell me about it. Since I decided to go back to college, I can't even drink on weeknights anymore. Well, except for this Tuesday. I was in Broad Ripple for innocent enough reasons (checking out Boogie Burger, and it was fan-fucking-tastic) with two of my buds. All 3 of us have obligations Wednesday, but we decide to stop into BuckWildz (formerly Club 7) and share a bucket of Coors Light. 5 frosty brews for $5. That's just smart fiscal sense in these tough economic times, so we got 3 more buckets.
D: If some is good, more is better. I'm also glad to hear about Boogie Burger. I'd never heard of it before until they showed it on the Colts-Bears debacle. But I don't wanna get into that now...
P: What's a regular season home opener loss in a brand new stadium against a team you thoroughly spanked in the Super Bowl two years ago mean anyway? I'm not worried. Do I sound worried? 'Cause I'm not. No way. Not once, not never. Star players may drop like flies from our roster, but there's no reason to worry. Of course I always sweat when I type. Honestly.
D: Cripes, now I'm all bummed again. I guess it's time we wrap this bitch up. If we don't, I will only start myself down a long and lonesome path again. Next thing you know, I turn up shirtless and coked out on the streets of Wichita and Pralines and Dick has been neglected for 3 months. Peace to ya, my preciouses.
P: Goodnight and may your dreams be short and forgettable. "I wish I could have a dream of me watching myself sleep."
D: And peaceful I’ll lie, alone in my bed, while visions of porn stars dance in my head…What can I say? I'm an English major AND a pervball. Goodnight, Pralines. Until we blog again.
P: Fare thee well, Dick.





*Patches, is this really necessary?
Necessary?! Is it necessary for me to drink my own urine?
Probably not.
No! But I do it anyway, because it's sterile, and I like the taste.

**Alabama's New Mascot: NASCAR-Driving, Shotgun-Toting Jesus