While going through the Internet this morning with a fine-toothed comb, I came across a photo I'm all but sure possesses the capabilities of evoking both anger and delight in the men in my life. The photo was of Tony Romo, Troy Aikman, Jason Witten, Bobby Carpenter, and Saints' coach Sean Payton playing football. On a beach. In Miami. And it looked awesome.
The reason I say said photo would delight my husband, father, uncle, and brother-in-law is obvious: It's professional football players playing football. And we don't see much of that anymore. Nor do we know when we will. The reason I say said photo would anger is because, dagnabbit, they want their football. And so do I. Here are 10 reasons I want the NFL lockout to end, for the love of that is holy.
I'll have my me time back. If this lockout doesn't see the light of day soon, Sundays are about to get a whole lot less peaceful for me. Sure, I'll watch a little football, drink a little beer, but the real delight for me on football Sunday is the ability to completely come and go as I please. Yoga? Okay. Pedicure? Why not! Please, don't take this away from me, Lord. What did I ever do to you?
My husband will spend less time online. I feel like he's always searching right now to see when this dang thing is going to end. It's like he thinks he's going to discover it before anyone else does in some obscure corner of the Internet. I want us both to pay attention during Million Dollar Decorators.
Dudes will be in a good mood again. Maybe it has nothing to do with this lockout whatsoever, but don't all guys look like they have a stick up their ass lately? What up with that?
His friends will come over to eat my leftovers again. For some reason, when I cook, I cook like I'm feeding an army. And that's not going to stop, so it would be nice to have a gaggle of bros who will eat the leftovers so they don't go to waste.
My husband will stop asking me if I want to toss around "the pigskin." Watching football together (on occasion) is one thing, getting out into the trenches is another. He needs to recognize.
My husband will stop tossing around said pigskin with my dog. He's a shih tzu, for God's sake. He doesn't like things that weigh as much as him being pelted at him. No, you don't, no you don't, little boy ...
There will be what seems like an endless supply of beer in our house once again. When we're not watching games, we're trying to act like we're all fancy, trying wine and champagne. But who are we really kidding, honey? We're animals and we know it.
My husband will stop doing that annoying "crowd noise" every time he tosses me something. You know what I'm talking about, right? The thing where dudes cup their hands around their mouths and breathe out hot air. It's annoying. And lame. And it sounds nothing like any crowd I've ever been around.
Football snacks. 'Cause there's nothing like returning from a pedicure and diving head first into a bowl of chili cheese fries. I told you, I'm an animal.
It would make all my dudes happy. And, really, nothing beats that.
Do you want the lockout to end?
Image via Michael Oh/Flickr