I guess I should explain why I haven't written anything in awhile. Soon after my last post, I got a phone call from my dear mother, who had only recently read my blog. She didn't like it. She launched into a slew of issues she had with my blog, mainly how if someone read my blog and didn't know me, they would immediately think I was crazy. I don't exactly know how that could by a bad thing, but I suppose I must pursue things in the professional world someday, and I see the logic in her argument. After my discussion with Mom, I realized that this whole event had completely killed any creative thought in my mind. I needed to step away for awhile and figure out how I could do this and please Mom.
Luckily, my answer came in the form of a crazy dream I had last night! I normally don't remember my dreams, but for whatever reason, this one stayed in my head after I woke up so I wrote it down during my morning bathroom ritual. Never had a bowel movement been so satisfying. I present to you my nutty football dream.
I was at an NFL football game. A home game for the Tennessee Titans. Not to strange, so far, until I noticed who the Titans were playing. The Rams. The Los Angeles Rams. Kind of weird. The Rams haven't been in LA since 1994.
You must admit the uniforms were pretty sweet.
My dream quickly informed my who I was cheering for, as I looked down and noticed that I was wearing an L.A. Rams t-shirt. My pa-in-law, sis-in-law, and wife were all at the game with me, but I noticed that they were all wearing Titans gear. I was a lone fan in this massive stadium, the lone fan of a team that technically no longer exists.
After a few plays, the Titans find themselves on their own 2 yard line on 4th down. They decide to punt, but first they took a timeout. During the timeout, my phone vibrated, and I looked to see who was sending me a text. It was from my brother. I can't recall what he was texting me about, but as I responded to his message I wandered a little too close to the backline of the endzone that Tennessee was kicking out of. As I looked down at my phone, I see a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye and I hear a whistle blow. The ref was calling a penalty. The ref gives me a dirty look, marches out to the middle of the field, turns on his microphone, and says, "A safety will be charged against the Titans..." he then points directly at me and continues, "because this JERK stood in front of me...ON HIS CELL PHONE!!!"
Now I know how Calvin Johnson feels.
I looked up and saw my ugly mug all over the big screens on both sides of the stadium. The boos and jeers were deafening. The ref seemed a bit distracted as he looked up at the press booth and said in an annoyed tone, "DANGIT TRENT DILFER, I'M THE REFEREE AND I CAN CALL WHATEVER I WANT!!" I looked up at the press booth and saw the former quarterback scowl back down at the ref. I don't know how this underachieving QB made it into my dream. All I know is that his presence makes me wonder if it in fact a nightmare I was having.
I wasn't even looking for a Trent Dilfer pic! This was the first
thing that came up when I typed "Clint Howard" in an image search.
This was the only appearance of Mr. Dilfer in my dream, unfortunately. I was hoping for some revelation as to how on earth this man won a Super Bowl.
I made my way to my family thoroughly embarrassed by the events that had occurred. As the booing continued, there was one strain of mocking that stood out from the others. It was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair screaming insults at me.
It's as if someone took a poloroid from inside my brain.
I absorbed the insults like any civilized human being would do, as I was taught that words shall not ever hurt me. However, the crazy lady decided to up the ante a bit and she threw a half empty water bottle at me. The bottle landed harmlessly on the ground a good few feet before it reached me, but that's not the point. People just can't go around throwing half empty plastic vessels at people they don't like. It's what separates us from the animals. I was infuriated that she would actually do something like that. I marched right up to her and put my face really close to hers. I looked her in the eye, then unleashed upon her the filthiest string on expletives that I could muster. It was pretty bad. I can't even begin to hint at the things I said to this woman, as this is a family blog. It made The Jersey Shore sound like Teletubbies with more annoying accents. Needless to say, she didn't appreciate my speculations as to what she did during her private time, so she began to slap at me. Not punches or backhands or anything dramatic like that. They were those little slaps that toddlers hit each other with. This only angered me more, so I did what any other person would do if a Ke$ha look-alike was attacking them and I kicked her in the stomach. That shut her up.
As I walked back to my family I felt a wee touch of guilt in my soul. I was really worried that my father-in-law had heard me say and do those awful things. I was worried that he would disapprove of my actions and as a result, disapprove of my marriage to his daughter. Before I could see his reaction, my wife got into my face and gave me a stern talking to. "HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!? THAT WAS TERRIBLE!! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!!" Truth is, I was a bit ashamed. However, that shame was short lived as my father-in-law came to the rescue. He looked at my wife and said, "You saw what happened. That woman threw a water bottle at him. She deserved it."
The last thing I remember from the dream are the sweet feelings of calm and acceptance.
Do I endorse kicking women in the stomach? Of course not. You can calm down now, Mom.
