How Romantic.

Didn't tell you what I did for New Years.

Thought you might want to know.

Maybe this was the year HB was going to ante up a diamond or scream to the world his love for me (like the guy on the Mayors commercial).?

Nah. There was a game on. More important things to worry about.

His favorite team is one in which nightmares are made of. They used to be SEC champs every year. Like the Yankees no one could beat this team, until the Coach hightailed it for greener pastures.

Since then, suckola, crapola and boringola.

Every game they lose. They still don't have a Coach. Sorry, they did have a man with a clipboard coaching the last game. The drool hanging from the lower lip was a slight indication that they had to hand it to someone, anyone, just to look official.

They played a team that raped their buttholes like a good prisoner (prison= where the winning team gets their players) should.

I think the only score on the losing side was because they were screaming like girls trying to run away from the gang rape. Scoring only happened once.

The rest of the time the losing team just handed the ball to the winning team.

"Here you go, I just caught it for you. Maybe, if you would like I could make a touchdown for your team? Whaddya say ol' buddy, ol' pal?"

So that was pretty much how my night went.

HB screeching at the TV.

He and his friend (we will call Bob) were in a total competition on how many times the F word could be said. They threw Styrofoam bricks at the TV , scared the dog and then set things on fire during the commercials (said it made them feel better).

I drank a yucky champange cocktail and ate from a veggie platter (I should have eaten before I went).

How romantic.