Now Accepting Tickets
I am a simple man with few needs. Unfortunately, one of those needs happens to be a ticket to the NFC Championship game at Lambeau Field on Sunday.
(Warning: If you are allergic to groveling, this post is not the place for you.)
Throughout the years, I have given blog readers at least three dollars worth of entertainment value. At this point, I would like to cash in that goodwill, in the event that one of the eight people reading this blog actually have a ticket to sell me. Honestly, I feel that there's a wall between you and me. And I see no better way of making the whole blogging experience more personal than you offering me a ticket. We would totally be best buds.
Therefore, I am willing to do anything for a ticket. I will say nice things about you on this blog. I will say mean things about someone you hate. I will give you free advertising. I will let you see a picture of my butt. I will rake the snow off your roof. I will give you my secret list of the best public bathrooms in South Central Wisconsin. I will grow a thick, flowing ironic mustache. I will call your wife every time you need to tell her you won't be home on time. I will make you a Boba Fett costume. I will call Al Sharpton and apologize on your behalf. I will discreetly let your co-worker know that he needs to shower more often. I will stand next to you in public to make you appear thinner. I will drive to Illinois to buy you cheaper smokes. I will do a research paper for you trying to explain the appeal of Julia Roberts. I will vote for you in the NBA all-star balloting. I will let you borrow my kids for a week to convince your girlfriend once and for all that she never wants to have children. I'll take the rap for you. I'll go to the drugstore and pick up the prescription-ordered extra small condoms you need. I'll learn to play the violin, then follow you around and provide accompaniment to the more emotional events in your life. I will punch people that snicker about your combover behind your back. I will follow you around and take detailed notes of the things you say when you are drunk, then apologize to everyone you spoke to. I'll let you beat the crap out of me in front of a table of hot girls at Chili's. I'll send big bouquets of flowers to your work and make sure all the other women see them. I'll break into your house after your death and steal all your porn so people don't know what a dirtbag you were. You can have your steroids sent to my house.
So I will be sitting at my computer here, waiting for your e-mail. I promise not to stop staring at my screen until your offer pops up. I imagine it'll be any minute. Any minute. Just sitting here waiting. Just sitting here. Any minute. Take your time. I'm sure you probably just ran out to the grocery store. That's fine, whenever. Just sitting here. No hurry.
(Warning: If you are allergic to groveling, this post is not the place for you.)
Throughout the years, I have given blog readers at least three dollars worth of entertainment value. At this point, I would like to cash in that goodwill, in the event that one of the eight people reading this blog actually have a ticket to sell me. Honestly, I feel that there's a wall between you and me. And I see no better way of making the whole blogging experience more personal than you offering me a ticket. We would totally be best buds.Therefore, I am willing to do anything for a ticket. I will say nice things about you on this blog. I will say mean things about someone you hate. I will give you free advertising. I will let you see a picture of my butt. I will rake the snow off your roof. I will give you my secret list of the best public bathrooms in South Central Wisconsin. I will grow a thick, flowing ironic mustache. I will call your wife every time you need to tell her you won't be home on time. I will make you a Boba Fett costume. I will call Al Sharpton and apologize on your behalf. I will discreetly let your co-worker know that he needs to shower more often. I will stand next to you in public to make you appear thinner. I will drive to Illinois to buy you cheaper smokes. I will do a research paper for you trying to explain the appeal of Julia Roberts. I will vote for you in the NBA all-star balloting. I will let you borrow my kids for a week to convince your girlfriend once and for all that she never wants to have children. I'll take the rap for you. I'll go to the drugstore and pick up the prescription-ordered extra small condoms you need. I'll learn to play the violin, then follow you around and provide accompaniment to the more emotional events in your life. I will punch people that snicker about your combover behind your back. I will follow you around and take detailed notes of the things you say when you are drunk, then apologize to everyone you spoke to. I'll let you beat the crap out of me in front of a table of hot girls at Chili's. I'll send big bouquets of flowers to your work and make sure all the other women see them. I'll break into your house after your death and steal all your porn so people don't know what a dirtbag you were. You can have your steroids sent to my house.
So I will be sitting at my computer here, waiting for your e-mail. I promise not to stop staring at my screen until your offer pops up. I imagine it'll be any minute. Any minute. Just sitting here waiting. Just sitting here. Any minute. Take your time. I'm sure you probably just ran out to the grocery store. That's fine, whenever. Just sitting here. No hurry.