Tail. And Gators.

So, after taking the day off on Friday to see a new opthalmologist (as the last one was Admiral Jackball,) I spent all day Saturday in the throes of Gator Football. It was hot as hell all day, and clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled right before kickoff, but luckily, we were spared both a deluge or the Polish Prince getting struck by lightning.

It was so hot when Danhole and I rolled into G-ville on Saturday morning! We got there early to set up a good tailgating spot (you're welcome, punkasses!), and even with all of Stanny's windows and doors open, I was sweating like a slave in Deebo's pigeon coop.

(And only my Mama could get me out!)

Anyway, after a day of basking in the sun, half-assed games of catch, much eating, and shopping, Lisa and I made our way to the stadium to meet back up with everyone. Upon entrance, we found out that yet again, we were sitting right next to the visiting team's fans, who all seemed very enthusiastic about their team, and whose coeds looked much classier and far less trampy than another school's. (This school shall remain nameless as to not give their "famous" trampy coed who has her own sports (!) column on the web any more publicity, as her fifteenth minute expired quite a while back, in my opinion.)

A young UCF fan made this simple request of us before kickoff:

Silly boy... what do you think this is, Fox River?


Hmm. Maybe the Swamp should be more like Fox River...


More of Deebo's Pigeon Coop!

But, wait: I wouldn't want to ruin the face that makes T-Bag call Michael "Pretty"! And yes, I did just cite a guy named "T-Bag." Leave me alone.


You know, I think Wentworth might be right.

Anything to add, Mr. Leak?

"Oh, yeah. You'd totally get cut."

I am clearly tired if I am making comparisons to PB and the football. I'm going to bed before this gets any more ridiculous.


Gah, too late.