Propitiating the Football Gods

Over at RollBamaRoll, the SBN site for Alabama athletics, we make offerings to the football gods with our tales of personal shortcomings. The bigger the game, the bigger the offering. Below follows my very extensive admission.

Go visit them...pay homage.

Act One. When I was a professional musician, I had a penchant for substances (illicit, taxed or otherwise), and trashy, hot women. One such gal had just graduated high school, and we worked together in Northport. She was drop dead beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to get in her pants. For months, I literally begged, and talked so much shit about what a great lover I was, and how I would rock her world, etc. Eventually my charms, and plying her with smoke and booze, paid off and she agreed to come to one of my band’s hunch punch parties. I was off that night, but she had to work, so she told me to go chill and she’d meet me around 11. I got bored waiting around, and headed out there around 8 at night. Needless to say, by 11:30 when she got there, I had been drinking PGA (and eating barbecue) for nigh on four hours. I was a sloppy drunk mess. She pounded down a few drinks, and started getting randy, so we went to the bushes, behind the cars and trucks, and started making out. I was in heaven, because I just knew I was about to score with a chick that looked like Jennifer Garner. I was kissing my way down her blouse and stomach, and then started kissing the inside of her legs (which were in pantyhose), when -without warning- I proceeded to hurl the entire mess of cherry Kool Aid, PGA, and pork sandwiches on her mons de amour. Naturally, the pantyhose acted as a sieve, and…well, your imagination can take it from there. Then I passed out in her thighs, face in a puddle of vomit.

This does not mix with barbecued pork...or sex.

Act Two. We did work together, so the next day, I had to pay the piper, and I don’t think there’s every been a more contrite apology issued. She was so pissed for about a week she didn’t speak to me. But, she eventually relented, and we resumed our flirting, and she agreed to give me another chance. She told me to meet her at her parents house out by Lake Tuscaloosa, and we could go hottubbing. I was again elated, because “tubbing” is shorthand for sex, obviously. We got in the tub on a majestic November night, and started smoking up and drinking screwdrivers. It really was a damned pleasant evening. She then invited me upstairs to go “dry off and get wet”, and I about creamed myself. Eagerly I followed her to the master bathroom, where we had shed clothing. She was sitting on the sink, and I had just started the act, when she starts gasping and crying out, and I was grinning thinking to myself “Damn, you are good”…then she looked up, half blue in the face, and choked out the words “asthma.attack.” I threw her in a bathrobe, threw one on myself and rushed her to DCH. While I was explaining what happened to the cops, who should show up? Her very pissed off parents, wondering why their daughter was naked, and why I was wearing Mom’s bathrobe from the lakehouse?

Asthma can be sexy...

Act 3. Soooo. Girl is really pissed now, and didn’t speak to me for a month (likely b/c of her parents). And, we went our separate ways, when she told me she was moving, and wouldn’t tell me where or give me her digits. I thought I was screwed forever. Flash forward a year and a half later, and I saw her on campus…she had gone to MUW for a year, then went to Alabama. She had grown up a bit, and I had too, so we put all the past behind us, and went to go have drinks at my apartment, which i shared with my brother at the time. I knew he was there, but I didn’t know where he was lurking. Anyway, she and I had a couple of pops and she said, let’s do this. So, free from the ghosts, we then went to my room, and started to have sex. During a quieter moment, she stopped, and looked at me funny and said “what the F is that noise”? I paused and then listened, and I could definitely hear a “hmmmmmmmmm” noise coming from the cracked bathroom door. I jumped up, ran to the door, and who was there? My brother watching this chick bang me. That “hmmmmmm”? His ..ummm…vibrating male pleasuring device. She screamed at me, calling us perverts, grabbed her clothes, and left. And I kicked my brother’s ass…

No reason for this...

 

Coda al fin. Flashforward two more years. I was in grad school, she was graduating. We had the same major, so we had a couple of classes in the past and ran into each other at Palmer a lot. But, we didn’t really talk (can you blame her?!). One afternoon she ran into me, and asked if she could bum a smoke. We hit up a little conversation, and agreed to meet after the game that weekend. After a DuBose loss to Arkansas, spirits were kind of low, but we soldiered on for drinks at the Houndstooth. After a few she said, “fuck it…let’s do this”. so, we proceeded to have sad, post-loss coitus. And it sucked. It was just bad loving. And she called me out with the following words “that was so bad…and so short…and, I just want you to know, that your brother has a much bigger d*** than you”. She kicked me out of her apartment and I’ve never seen her since.

Are you serious? Really?

Please gods, I have propitiated with premature ejaculation, sex fail, penis envy and liquor stupidity: That has to be worth something?! Roll Tide