Dan Marino

December 1, 2008 at 4:42 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
  Saturday night, my weekend was fucked up because I had to work at Domino’s.  Funny thing–Dina didn’t know it was a problem.  She said that Stan said that I didn’t have a problem with it–
  Because he wanted off.
  I set her straight:  "Working Saturday fucks my entire life up.  I can’t do it."
  Especially now, when we are trying to get these houses fixed up before the run-up to Christmas hits us in the face.  Time is short, I’m working alot, and any spare time I have needs to be devoted to getting the work done.  Having said that, Dina gave me two tickets to the Rams football game for Sunday.
  Should I go, should I not?  We have alot to do.  But this is free.  Neither Detroit nor I have ever been to a football game, so we decide to go.
  I was more interested in the "whole" experience than the football game itself.  The trip down on the metro (St Louis’ version of the subway, except it’s way to clean to be a subway, plus it’s above the ground.), the domed stadium, the crowd, the ridiculously vertical seating.  We were seriously about 8 rows from being in the very highest point in the stadium. But we’re near the 50-yard line.
  The couple behind us–Mousy Chick and Sports Jerk–really grated on my nerves.  Sports Jerk yelled down to the field, "*Go*, Rams!" like they could hear him.  Mousy Chick then echoed with her patented, "Go Defense!"  Then Sports Jerk would clap.  But it wasn’t a regular clap; he was doing whatever he could–cupping his hands, or pounding really hard–to make his clap extra loud.
  Right next to my ear.
  I wanted to hurt him.  I fantasized about bending Mousy Chick over and fucking her while Sports Jerk cheered me on.  "Come on!  Hit it!  Go long!  Go Rams!"
  Plus watching the game in real life isn’t as exciting as watching it on TV.  The cheerleaders were pretty damn far away, and the yellow line on the field that tells what the yardage is was mysteriously missing, as was the arrow that showed the direction of the drive.  No yellow marker circles and arrows either.  How am I supposed to follow the action?
  At half-time, we left.  In the end, Miami won.  Is that our record, 1-7?  We won one game, a few weeks ago.
  And we get home, rest, nap, and–nothing.  The day wasted.  I coulda-we coulda-but we didn’t.  I made dinner.  For me and the house, the weekend was a complete bust.

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