so i think that in another life i was a teen age boy…or at least a mid aged man. I’m sure we’ve visited this pointin a post about shaking unruly women in a past life as an explanation for the dryspell of bad luck in dudes lately. I love high school football. No, I love convenient hhttp://beta.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifigh school football. NOw that I don’t coach flags I don’t have to go to the games this year, which are almost always away, so I get to comfortably watch high school football from the comfort of my own home. HOw? Oh, thanks to the good folks at NBC. I fucking love this show. I love it so much that for the last three weeks I’ve been watching it from the elliptical machine at my gym, but then I heard about how it might be cancelled, and decided to fucking push back my work out by an hour so that my viewing could be counted towards their ratings—-though I do know that that is not quite how the neilsen’s rating systems works having already been a nielsen’s family. I love the intensity, and the energy of the crowd that Franklin fans don’t quite have unless its a big game against our rival school, or during the Bell Game…the game we just lost last friday. ANYWAY…I liked this movie, just like I liked Varsity Blues, just like I enjoyed watching UT football with my friend Rachel when she lived in LA and invited me to join her in Manhattan Beach to watch the Long Horns hand most teams their ass. Or sometimes not. I don’t know where this comes from. I don’t come from a football family. I come from a computer family. I come from a music family. I come from a long line of fucked up men who hit/manipulate/whatever to women family. HOWEVER, I think its just a part of me to watch men hit each other…hard. Or, in the case of TV land…watch men pretend to hit each other…HARD. I like it so much I wonder if its been socially ingrained in me (from where, cuz I didn’t watch football in high school) or if its apart of my genetic code (I’ve always sworn that if I didn’t look so much like my mom, I would have been adopted). its like, “so, you’re a trogladite? and you hit things….wanna dance?” With every passing second I am failing to meet someone else’s idea about what it means to be a “feminist.”
i’m also mildly interested about life in Texas. I mean, really, what the hell is that all about? A favorite cousin of mine packed up and moved to Houston like 10 years ago, and well…out of all the cousins who had their kids while they were still in high school…hers is the only child to go to college and not become a drug dealer. Not that dealing drugs is bad, per se, and you know, for some folks its the natural career choice for folks whose mamas were crack heads, but…i’m just sayin, texas saved their lives. And……….there is a bit of a mystique to southern living. all aspects of it, the Katrina living aspect of it, the southern belle aspect of it, the black elite aspect of it, the Hot-lanta aspect of it. not that I’m trying to live anywhere where there are fucking bugs (ie waterbugs…ie cockroaches…and mosquitos..ie…transporters of AIDS) the size of amphibians.
oh…and there is something about the damn near pathetic, yet majestically beautiful physical torture that football coaches can cast down upon these young men. Its also possibly my deeply hidden competitive streak just poking its head up for air. I’m glad to see some part of me has guts.