Tonight I'll be perched on the arm of the recliner watching the Carolina Panthers (9-3) and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (9-3) battle in Charlotte for the top spot in the NFC South. I was going on and on about this and asking the Madame and Mister who's bringing the snacks and whether the fleece blankie is laundered and ready .... then they drop a bombshell. They're GOING TO THE GAME. Going to the game? When did they start doing that?
So I put my nose in the air and huffed off, thinking they'll be in the cheap seats, hemorrhaging from the nostrils, while I get to see the close-ups and instant replays and that oh-so-handy yellow line on the screen. And I won't have to wait in line for a bathroom. But I can still hear them talking in the other room: .... blah, blah, blah ...... seats on the 40-yard-line .... blah, blah, blah .......what an incredibly nice gift that was ... blah, blah, blah...too bad we can't take Henry, you know, what with her being the biggest football fan in the house.
I hope it rains. No, I hope it snows. No, sleet. Yeah, sleet. And 40 mile-per-hour winds.
ffffffffftttttttttttttt!!!!!
2 comments:
It seems to me this practically borders on animal cruelty! Will they at least leave the TV on for you?
I'm able to turn it on and off myself. They did, however, bring me a souvenir from the game--a big styrofoam paw. Gee, thanks.
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