I had to find out the Chargers let their massive balls hang low in Kansas City on Thursday night whilst I took my morning seating. I clicked on the 'ol YouTube to watch the replay of the game and had a blast being asked for the 500th time if I wanted to join YouTube Premium.
I'm a cable (or satellite) man myself. I want every channel, immediately. I want no "loading pages" or searching for content. I'm not a fan of all this shit. I will pay the $200/month so I can sit calmly with my fat ass moulded to the sofa knowing that I have a guide and HD programming at my fingertips, without something telling me the content cannot load.
Last night, I was all set for my Thursday night ritual of football watching and slovenly eating. This was after my sister told me she is going to cancel our plans to go out and drink our collective faces after her graduate school final exam, or whatever. I was let off the hook from getting pied on a Thursday night. So Chiefs vs. Chargers it is.
I sit down, pour a big tall seltzer (yes, I am 80 years old), and watch as the Chiefs who are already up 7-0 in the first quarter tea-bag the Chargers into submission.
Wife comes strolling in from work with the look on her face that means I am NOT going to watch this game alone. Goodbye den, goodbye seltzer, goodbye recliner. More importantly, I have been asked to, "help prep buffalo chicken dip and kielbasa" for a work party. Now, I know her work party is next week. So, what the fuck is she talking about here?
Turns out, after a long week of not listening (on my part), she's attending a female friend's work party as her, "plus one" AND making some side dishes. This, "friend" has gone through a "bitter" divorce and is in need of companionship at public events since the split. Notice how everyone always refers to a divorce as, "bitter" whilst blaming the man for his infidelity.
It's almost implied that the man is an asshole and the woman did nothing wrong. Well, turns out, this chick is a lesbian now, so she upped and left with the kids and moved into a good 'ol apartment and found a second job to support her rug munching habits. Turns out the man had nothing to do with it, but is still referred to as an, "idiot."
Good for her, but, please, don't shit on the men. The men are not the problem here. So don't call it bitter. If anything, he should be bitter for you leaving him high and dry. Goddamn.
Anyway, the audacity of this newly minted lesbian to coral my wife into making food for this thing AND sticking me with BOTH kids alone on a Friday night whist she parties her tits off at some Christmas Party is outrageous. However, the stinger his that I'm asked to FUCKING WASH DISHES for this bitch (not my wife) and help prep chicken or whatever because she, "can't cook."
My ass you can't cook. What if you and my female wife unit were never friends? What would you do then? MAYBE GO TO A CATERING COMPANY AND ORDER FOOD TO PASS OFF AS YOUR OWN? Holy shit, what a concept. I mean, my wife is really the one to blame here, because she has one of those hearts of gold that never says no to any friend in need. This is why we have a, "temporary" foster dog, who is a cunt, that was supposed to be gone three years ago.
I can't argue with a good human, but holy shit do I hate people. This is why I stick to a slim number of friends. I also have managed to stay friends with a decent amount of out of state people, meaning we talk sparingly, almost die when I visit to party, and make a vacation out of it. Plain and simple. The more spread out people are, the easier it is to ignore cries for help.
Sorry, I'm too far away. I would, but I can't, so I won't type deal.
So, now that the game is half over and our food prep is done, the wife unit asks if I would like to go downstairs for a glass of wine and a discussion about our day. This is pretty typical - I usually don't mind this activity because it gives us a chance to talk and figure shit out, mainly so I don't forget about picking up the kids or whatnot. Again, it's widely known I don't listen. And, to be honest, you should do this type of thing with your wife unit on a semi-regular basis. It also sometimes leads to anal sex, so, there's that. It's called an incentive-based discussion. It's healthy, so get on it.
In the end, I found out the refs clinched a playoff birth for the LA Chargers by calling a bullshit pass interference call in the end zone on third down. And NO, the play that they screwed up on WAS NOT the game tying touchdown everyone is talking about, or the following 2-point conversion where you could LITERALLY see Anthony Lin's balls hang out of his pant legs on the sideline. (See below). It was indeed the third-and-goal defensive PI in the back of the end zone that allowed the Chargers to score on the following set of downs.
Yep, the good 'ol NFL making things competitive in the AFC West for the first time in since 2010. I'll take it, since that means the Chargers and Chiefs are all one loss away from having to go through New England for the AFC Title.
Editor's Note: Chargers receiver Mike Williams clearly toe-dragged for his first post-catch step, then took a second flat footed step on the turf before stepping out of bounds. So, please, quit being a little bitch about it.