Friday, February 02, 2007
Sex and Football
Manola News, Miami Beach, February 1, 2007 -- As the city prepares for a major celebrity infestation and on onslaught of parties thrown to kiss the media's ass, residents have been raiding store shelves for supplies as if stocking up for a category five hurricane. Joe Manager of Walgreen’s on Fifth Street reports that even during hurricane season, customers aren't nearly as anxious. “Today, we ran out of turkey jerkey, tampons and Tanqueray before noon. It’s good for business, but people are reacting like it’s Art Basel on steroids.”
Since early this week, National Fucking Lunacy has taken over the usually sunny disposition of the city’s residents. One customer threw a fit at the cash register as she waited for the cashier to get cigarettes. “This is outrageous. I don’t give a Jessica Biel’s ass about the Superbowl! It’s sabotage, let me tell you. I’m splitsville to Kendall for the weekend. Yeah, you heard right. Kendall. I’m freakin’ evacuating to Kendall!”
Another woman who was waiting in line sighed and exclaimed: “You think that’s bad, honey? Listen to this: my boyfriend is hog-tied to the big screen at Finnegan’s Two on Lincoln Road. I can't even get Tremont to tow his ass home. I bribed a sanitation worker to hose him off the sidewalk come Monday morning.”
Ah yes, the plight of women who don’t give a Paris Hilton Ass Goiter for the Superbowl is hard not only for the first woman, who must suffer exile from her besieged city, but even harder for the football widow whose only contact with her beloved oaf has been stepping on the dirty underwear he has dropped on the floor since the beginning of the season.
Death and Taxes
Ladies, like death, football is inevitable; football is the tax you pay for sex. Don't worry, your man will discover his dick shortly after he enters post-bowl depression. In the meantime, don’t settle for a losing score. Play the field and play to win! Don’t you know vengeance is best served with chips? Here are some tips to get you through Superbowl Sunday.
1. Lace store-brought canned French onion dip with viagra and prepare to be humped like a monkey during commercial breaks. Show your team spirit by using condoms made out of pigskin!
2.If that doesn't work, rig the remote control so that every time he switches between the game, ESPN and the Lingerie Bowl, your remote control vibrator panties buzz you into bliss.
3. Why stop there? Benwa Ball leagues are forming around cities across the nation. Start practicing now. It's easy: think of your kegel muscles as the line of scrimmage.
4. If none of the above work, resort to retail therapy. What’s in your wallet? Why his credit card, of course! Click "buy now" on your Victoria’s Secret wish list once if his team scores a touchdown and twice every time you see cheerleader crotch shot.
And heck, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Sit back and enjoy. The commercials are great and if all goes well, Fergie might even have a wardrobe malfunction! Remember: sex is the tax he pays for football and as every fanatic knows, there's always hope for a Hail Mary!
tags: superbowl, south beach, football widow, sex, humor