I have entirely too much time on my hands:

   Bob loved to fish. If he could, he would fish 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Bob didn't have time for trivial things, like housekeeping, pets, or girlfriends. For him, it was all about fishing.
   Now Bob did have his fishing buddies, which whom he fished and drank with, and shared his innermost feelings with (about fishing). His fishing buddies, being the good sort they were, decided that Bob really needed to get laid. After much debate, and some cursing and spitting, they convinced Bob to go out with them to the local singles bar and at least try to TALK to a female...and who knows, if things went well...maybe Bob would score some snooch. Bob was not amused as he checked the time for the incoming tide that evening.
   The group arrived at the bar, and the fellows zeroed in on Bob's best possible chance for a shot of pooswah...a very nondescript gal, a little weathered, but not too bad on the eyes. They shoved Bob in her direction, and gave him instructions to buy her a drink and just talk. The buddies got tables against the back of the wall, far enough away not to be a nuisance, but not close enough to hear very well.
   They watched the exchanges between Bob and his lady friend, and things could not be going any better. She was smiling. Bob was smiling and laughing. Bob bought a couple more rounds, and even sent some drinks to the friends' table. Feeling righteous and a sense of victory, the boys excused themselves and left Bob to let him land the big one on his own.
   The next afternoon, Bob called his friends together at their local fishing hole. He claimed he had some exciting news. The group met and Bob was smiling from ear to ear. "Fellas, I want to thank you for getting me out last night. Betsy and I hit it off and I realized she is the perfect woman for me!", Bob proclaimed. "And this Friday, we are going to the Justice of the Peace and getting married!"
   Needless to say, the friends were shocked. One spoke up. "Bob, you were only supposed to...you know...get laid...not get married. What the Hell, man?"
   Bob responded, "It's all good my man. Betsy is perfect for me. And to show you all how much we appreciate you getting us together, we want to take you on the honeymoon with us!" Stunned, and seemingly unable to sway Bob from this questionable decision, the group relented and joined Bob and Betsy on their honeymoon.
   Where do you think they went? That's right kiddies! They went fishing...on a houseboat...for two weeks. And for those entire two weeks, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, all Bob did was fish. Again, his friends thought that it was very odd that Bob spent absolutely zero time with Betsy during the honeymoon. There wasn't enough alone time for even a quickie...as Bob was busy wetting a line.
   At the end of the trip, his friends confronted Bob. "Bob, it may be none of our business, but...um...er...how do I say this? We didn't see you consummate the marriage...is everything ok?"
   Bob responded, "Well fellas, I can't have sex with Betsy...she's got gonorrhea."
   "Holy shit!", one of the friends exclaimed. Trying to recover quickly, and lighten the mood a little, one friend asked, "Well what about a blow job, Bob?"
   Bob replied, "Betsy has pyorrhea...her teeth are rotten and jagged, and I ain't putting my junk in there."
   A glutton for punishment, the friends continue their line of questioning. "Well Hell then! What about some anal sex Bob...you know...tapping the balloon knot ?"
   Again, Bob had sour news for them. "She has diarrhea and irritable bowel syndrome. Not to mention hemorrhoids.", he said. "And I am not too big on making my schlong look like he's playing commando."
  Dejected, there was only one thing left to ask Bob. The friends swallowed hard and asked "Well why in the Hell did you marry this chick!?"
   Smiling, Bob exclaimed, "She's got worms too and they are GREAT for fishing!"

   God help us all. This is going to be a long off-season. I hate it. It gives me entirely too much time to come up with sick analogies, horrid visuals, and tasteless jokes.
   Horrid visuals, you ask? Try this one on...two diesel dykes, complete with wallet chains, matching flannel shirts, and smelling of a mix of baby powder and Aspen, walking into a sperm bank, asking for a 5 gallon bucket of their finest swimmers and an applicator shaped like Melissa Etheridge's chin and tongue.

   I need help.

   This is also the time of year I rediscover how fucking strange the folks in my family really are. For example, I give you my 11 year old daughter. Last off-season, she was "Daddy's little Princess"...my little "Lady Bug". She said please and thank you, I love you Daddy, you're my best friend Daddy, and many other heartwarming sentiments. Enter 2010, she is a woman now (and good thing she doesn't access this site, she may never forgive me for sharing that). This creature that has taken her spot has breasts, is very moody...all the time, and now says things like, I hate you, You have no clue because you are a boy, Mommy is nicer, I can't wait until I am 18...I am so out of here...etc. She has 5 wardrobe changes scheduled daily, and only one laundry day. She has an easier time getting them on and off if her clothes are piled on top of the empty coat hangers on her closet floor. She insists on wearing things to make me have a stroke. The drama with her friends makes daytime soap operas look amateurish, and her time in the bathroom has grown exponentially.

   Thank God Spring Football is only a few weeks away.

(Sorry for the lack of a countdown this week. The countdown will return in a few weeks as the Greek and Teddy go off on the worst sports broadcaster in the business.)

 *** This site is intended for mature, knowledgeable, true fans of college football. If you are easily offended by homer opinions, strong language, brutal honesty, tasteless humor, PAC 10 pillow fights, or visor throwing-this isn’t the site for you. We here at TBDPITL are incapable of being sympathetic and politically correct, so strap on a pair and check your sensitive feelings at the door.