- Kurt Russell is no longer dreamy to me and I hope they don’t consider doing Overboard 2.
- I will now forever associate Chevy trucks with crazy cow sex.
- Golden Tate’s name sounds like Golden Taint, according to my wife. I’d have to agree.
- My wife gets live eagles and seahawks mixed up.
- If you try to search for “men’s gloves” on Etsy, you get a bunch of mittens. Really, dudes?
- David Beckham? Still got it.
- Super Bowl snacks when you’re not eating carbs involve pickles and cheese and that’s about it.
- Bruno Mars is kinda boring.
- None of those damn half time chatting guys had ever seen Bruno Mars in their entire lives and it was hilarious.
And, finally, I learned that you can watch an entire football game, know that one team just got it’s ass handed to them, and still not really remember what the score was or have an single ounce of emotion about the outcome.
Man, it’s like I was reading about World Religions the entire time the game was on and didn’t even remember seeing much except for sad, sad Eli Manning watching the game from his home field’s suite while his brother got to play.
Is it WNBA time yet?
Two of the three things that are consuming most of my free time are my kickboxing class and watching the first two seasons of The Walking Dead.
My co-worker convinced me to watch one episode of The Walking Dead. I did. And then I texted her that I couldn’t believe she talked me into watching a show where zombies eat a horse. (SPOILER ALERT.) After that text, I watched two more episodes. I talked Amelia into watching it with me and now we’re midway through the 2nd season, trying to find a way to obtain the 3rd season and prepare for the 4th season that’s coming up in the next couple of weeks. We did the same thing with Sons of Anarchy, which has become one of our favorite shows.
The kickboxing class happened when I invited myself to take a class with Katie and Jenni. I’m so glad I did. This is us having a great time in class:
We’ve only had two classes and I’ve gotten my ass handed to me both nights. I know my form is wrong about 75% of the time but I don’t even care. It feels SO good after class is done each night. It’s a five or six week class, with sessions on Monday and Wednesdays. We have to jump rope, do squats, and all these other weird things that make me roll my eyes. But here’s the thing – I love having all this stuff thrown at me.
It’s not like high school basketball where the thought of running lines sent my mind in to trying to think of any excuse possible to not have to run. We’ll just say here were many fake ankle sprains happening in my freshman and junior years.
My MMA-approved hand wraps shipped today, so I’ll have them for next week’s classes. From there, I guess the next step is cage fighting. It seems like a natural progression. And from there? Defender of all during the zombie apocalypse.
I came upstairs to go to bed and our bedroom TV was blaring The 700 Club, complete with Pat Robertson telling me I could put my hand over my nose and my sinus issues would be all healed up. I’m not holding my breath on that one.
And here’s the other thing. I can’t make myself turn the channel. The remote is all the way on the other side of the… bed. But if I changed the channel, I’d miss some lady reading questions that people have written or emailed into the show and Pat Robertson answering them. Right now, they’re joking around about Elijah and seances. I clearly missed that part of the Bible.
I’m totally going to have nightmares tonight.