Make it about relationships. Yes, I'm being sexist. And if you haven't met me, that's how I roll.
That said. I'm one of those girls. A fair weather fan. Or in this case, a stormy weather fan.
Because pro football has just been turned into a very special episode of Dynasty (Gridiron and Grossness) and I've got control of the remote tonight. Booya!
To be clear, I do like sports. I like to watch my kids play sports. I can even get roped into an occasional game on any given Sunday. But typically, I'm not a big pro sports fan. Once I mistakenly asked a guy how "mystery" football was going. Trust me. I like getting laughed at, but I like to get laughed at for being funny, not stupid.
Whatever. So the latest scuttlebutt is that Brett Favre is a playa'. Word is he left solicitous voicemails for some massage therapist and one for a model and he even sent a lewd text to some woman featuring his "packer". I guess the textee was grossed out, which is neither here nor there, but I have to say I like her for being grossed out. How many self-loathing girls do you know who would be completely flattered by that? "Oh my God. A famous person just sent me a picture of his member. That is so sweet." Yuck. It's not sweet. It's barfy and nice self esteem. Not the point but integral to the story.
I guess all Brett's bad judgement happened years ago while he was playing for The Jets. Maybe his wife found out about it then, maybe she didn't. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. (Uh-huh.)
What I do know is I am TOTALLY watching the game tonight. Why? I am oddly compelled. What the heck do I think I'm going to see? It's not like his wife is going to walk out onto the field, slap him, then do a pirouette while flipping him and all his fans the bird. (But wouldn't that be awesome!) It's not like he'll break down in the middle of a play and publicly apologize to his family and anyone else offended by his enormous ego and silly, silly boy stunts.
But maybe I will see an empty seat where his wife usually sits. Maybe I will see him with an I-am-too-stupid-to-live look on his face. Maybe, just maybe those other women will show up holding signs that read "Pig" and "Seriously. Don't Call Me!" and "You airbrushed." Maybe I'll see the Jets (They're playing the Jets!) give him an ankle injury to match the one he got from the Saints. Okay, I don't want him to get physically hurt, I just want him to suffer emotionally. Then I want him to show some remorse and we can all move on.
Insert the song "Stupid Girl" here.
Then I want to take his wife out for lunch and maybe do a little shopping. Which is weird because I always thought she looked kind of crabby but now I think she's awesome and he sucks.
So call me, Mrs. Favre, and bring his credit card.
Oh and go Vikes.
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