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Bitch Details     1/19/2006  
 
 

  JUNE 2012  
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GOING TO THE BIG GAME? BRING YOUR BRASS KNUCKLES  by Norm Wearing Jersey 1/19/2006 at 14:00
Going to the big game is supposed to be fun, right? Then why is it that everytime I go I end up almost pummelling 40 people? THIS IS WHY:

- Going To The Game: Why is there always some retard trying to cut in line for the turning lane at the intersection? Did he not see the line down the block? Hey, douche, why do you think we are all here? For the great view of that bum sleeping on the curb?

I pull into the parking garage, but now I can’t park. I have to wait for this tool to make a 50-point turn, because he has to back this gigantic pickup truck into a compact parking space. Why didn’t he just drive 10 more feet and pull through one of those empty spots? WTF?

Going up the stairs I get stuck behind this old couple. I never stop on every stair. I usually skip a stair. Call me crazy? These geezers. HELL NO. They step on every single stair, walking side-by-side, like they have a severe case of O.C.D. I have to practically push Grandma over to get by, then they realize they are holding up another 6,000 people behind them.

- Watching The Game: Sitting directly in front of me, a young couple. Cute, huh? Not really. This girl has tattoos all over her person, and is wearing a jersey with nothing but a bra on underneath it. The essence of class, right? These jackasses proceed to tongue-kiss every 10 minutes. And when they aren’t putting on a mini-pr0n exhibition, they are snapping photos of themselves. How much memory does that camera have? They’ve had to have burned through about a Gig of flash memory by now. WTF? How many pictures of themselves do they need?

To make matters worse, the old couple from the stairs, yeah, they sit down right next to me. Granny didn’t come to the game to relax either. She keeps elbowing me. She is also the only one in our section that is yelling "DE-FENSE" at the top of her crusty old lungs. And the kicker, she has "thundersticks" with her, and they aren’t just for looks. She frantically smacks those bastards together every few minutes as if signaling for medical assistance...

Directly behind me, (4) frat boys. They keep yelling obscenities at the players. We are like 100 rows back. Apparently they don’t teach science at this college, or they would know that the sounds they are making could not possibly be heard by the players... Meanwhile, the usher just stands there. I give him the benefit of the doubt at this point, maybe he has a polyp acting up?

In the adjacent section, there are (2) fans wearing jerseys for the opposing team. Should be innocent fun. But it isn’t. They won’t STFU. Every male in a 3-section radius is grinding his teeth, thinking "Stay in your seat, do not kill, do not go to jail tonight".

- Leaving The Game: Now the parking garage is full of drunks. Curiously, everyone simulataneously learns how to use the cars horn. Suddenly the garage becomes nothing more than a bumper-car ride at a cheap carny. This yellow mustang has the windows rolled down, and is blasting techno music. Does it look like we want to dance or something? Well, we don’t. We just want to get home you tool.

Good times. Go team... Arg.
   

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