I love football. I always have. I can talk football with the best of them. As a little girl, I was a Chicago Bear fan. No brainer there. I was born and lived in Illinois and if you pronounce it IlliNOISE, I will fucking cut you. My whole family are Chicago fans. You could say I cut my proverbial teeth on Bears football. I also perfected the art of drinking a cold Old Style beer, but that is another fucking story.
When I moved to Texas, as a teenager, I was converted into a Cowboy fan and started drinking Lone Star Beer. Shut-UP assclowns! If you live in Texas, you are required, by law, to drink the shitty beer and be a goddamn Cowboy fan.
Texans are fucking crazy, y'all. They take their football, beef and secession from the United States seriously. You can only live there if you play by their rules. If not, they will slap a lame fucking hat on your head, stick your stupid ass on a bull named The Grim Goddamn Reaper, and call you the star attraction at the fucking Saturday Night Rodeo.
In my twenties, I saw him, and it was all over...
I know, right!!! I have been a Bronco's fan ever since. I've always been a sucker for a blond with a nice ass. I thought about moving to Denver and allowing Mr. Elway to
whatever the motherfucking hell he wanted with me marry me. However, Duke fucked that one up. He met me, kept me drunk and well fed for a year. Then he whisked me away in a drunken, pill popped haze, to Vegas one day.
All I remember is copious amounts of booze, lots of bells, pretty sparkly lights, someone (who may or may not have been me) screaming "Let It Ride, Bitch!" at least a hundred times, and Elvis in a cheap wig asking me to promise that I would never step on the Duke's blue suede shoes, never have a suspicious mind, and to love him tender for always.
Next thing I know, I'm married and on a plane back to Chicago in the middle of motherfucking winter. I haven't been sober since.
The Duke is a Bear fan. It's in his family bylaws. Dukes Mom is a Butkus, which is pronounced buttkiss for all of you non-football fans. All these years later, and that STILL fucking cracks me up every. single. time I say it. Her 3rd cousin is Dick Butkus, hence the mandatory family bylaw about being a Bear fan.
Duke has season tickets for the Bears. Even though I love football, you will not find my royal ass at Soldier Field when it is cold. I don't care if Jimmy Choo has a goddamn 75% off sale set up there just for me, I am not going when it is cold.
Soldier Field sits right on the banks of icy Lake Michigan in the Windy City. When it's cold, it is also damp, and usually, windy. That kind of cold sinks right into your fucking bones, and turns your lips a butt ugly shade of blue, no matter how many goddamn beers you drink. This means that there is about one fucking game a year I will attend in person.
Last night was the game for this year. It takes days to prepare for this game because the Duke is the Master of Tailgating in the stadium parking lot. We must be there eleven-ty hours early, to drink, eat, drink, eat again, and finally go to our seats and drink some more. The age old rival that is Chicago and Green Bay always make for a good time and a great game.
I mean, who doesn't love loud drunken assholes reminiscing about the '85 Bears? They can also do the wave and spill their fucking beer on the person in front of them while singing/slurring Bear Down Chicago Bears? They are my people.
Then, there is Kenny Chesney; the true crack of my worst addiction. The Farm Aid Concert is in Milwaukee in Saturday. It is an all day concert, and because we have front row seats, I have a lot of prep work to do. I need a full body wax, haircut, mani-pedi, lipo suction, botox, a new sexy bra, a new pair of kick ass shoes, and hypnosis classes.
Kenny will be so taken with my magnificent beauty that he will pull me on stage and ravish me right fucking there. If not, I will spend the entire concert hypnotizing his ass with special hypnosis tassels attached to my tits and then make him my sex slave. Whatever, I'm good with both.
His new album came out today too. He has been making the television rounds promoting it, and I must see every one. Look bitches, with 900 satellite channels, and my usual drunken-xanaxed state of being, it's a lot of fucking work keeping track of what channel Kenny will be on next. I'm fucking exhausted.