A Discussion About Shirtless Dudes & Chicks on Bikes
Monday, July 12, 2010 at 8:14AM Yesterday marked a sad sad day for this brother. It was the last game of the World Cup. I’m a long-time soccer geek and live for the World Cup.
This past weekend the wife and I watched the Germany third-place game. I thought I’d be all manly and watch the game with her and impress the hell out of her with my soccer knowledge. By the end of the game I thought for sure she’d be ripping my clothes off and confessing that I’m quite possibly the sexiest gap-toothed bastard on the planet.
Instead…..
Wifey: “So when do they take their shirts off again?”
Me: “Seriously, that’s all you care about? That really hurts…that hurts down deep.”
Wifey: “So when do they take their shirts off again?”
Me: “Not all the players do that…some of them kiss their country’s emblem that’s on their shirt, some just run around like they’re trying to get away from the rest of their team that wants to tackle the hell out of them.”
Wifey: “So we have to wait for them to score before they do it? Well this sucks.”
Me: “Would it make you feel better if I took my shirt off.”
Wifey: “Oh God no…. I mean, if you’re warm yes, but don’t do it on account of me. Love you honey.”
Me: “Why is it that I want you to take your shirt off worse than Gary Busey wants a gum-reduction, but you say, ‘oh God no!?’”
Wifey: “Hey, what’s that? Why are they touching it with their hands?”
Me: “Because their wives won’t touch it anymore for them. So now they have to do it all on their own!”
Wifey: “Ooooh…OK…we’re even now jackass. At least I told you I loved you after I made you my bitch.”
Me: “They’re throwing the ball in, it went out of bounds.”
Wifey: “So why aren’t there any women in the Tour de France? It’s 2010. That’s pretty messed-up they won’t let any women in.”
Me: “You honestly think a whole bunch of guys got together and made the unanimous group decision to not allow a super fit women wearing extremely tight clothes with her ass perched high in the air for all to see while riding a bike for a solid month throughout all of France? I don’t think so.”
Wifey: “That’s true. She’d probably become the Yoko of the Tour de France anyway.”
Me: “And when she won a stage she could get off her bike, run towards the crowd and rip her shirt off like soccer players. That would be hot.”
Wifey: “You’re a pig.”
Me: “But…you…just a minute ago you were…oh forget it. I’m going upstairs to watch the game.”
Wifey: “Can you pour me some more wine before you go? Love you honey!!”
World Cup, balls, conversation, marriage, soccer, tour de france, wife, wine