The Date

At some point during the viewing of the ever so painful 7th game of the World Series, Debra turned to me with the ultimate would you rather:

“Would you rather go on a date with Gary Patterson or Bo Pelini?”

Hmm. My immediate response was “Hands down, Bo Pelini.” Then, as they always do, the wheels in my mind began to churn.

Churn….Gary is better looking.

Churn….I hate him.

Churn….Bo Pelini would probably make me eat corn and only corn on our date. He might even make me go pick it, shuck it and have it prepared, they way they do at restaurants with tanks full of lobsters.

Churn…I don’t want to go to Nebraska.

Churn…I don’t have any purple to wear.

Churn…Pelini breathes with his mouth open. He probably chews that way too.

Churn…churn…churn.

I ultimately decided that perhaps I should take the date with Patterson. My mind began to formulate a plan. Patterson picks me up, takes me to Al Bernait’s. After a nice wedge salad and a steak and shrimp combo, I order cheesecake. Immediately following a healthy serving of a crumbly graham cracker crust, I will excuse myself to powder my nose, then hop in a cab and hike it home.

It’s not very ladylike, but I feel it would be a healthy dosage of his own medicine. See how it feels to be left high and dry, much in the same way he does when he singles out his players after losses.

I know, not nice. But you can’t not play “would you rather.”

After divulging my plans, Debra made the comment to “be sure and pin a twenty to your panties.” You know, for the cab ride home.

Even though I hate the word “panties,” I nodded in agreement.

It’s a farfetched scenario, as I neither coach would care to take me on a date. I’m pretty sure they’re both married and I’m pretty sure they both hate not only the Longhorns, but Adventures of a Football Girl as well. I’m sure the loathing would be mutual if I were famous enough for them to know about me.

Eh.

God, punishing me for having such a mean plan, then made us lose the World Series to St. Louis.

And for that, I apologize.