"is favre at least pretty when he's kicking the chargers' asses?" "for an old dude!"

I forgot to mention it yesterday -- must've been the booze blur that was my afternoon post-TJ Yates' tumbling performance -- but Duke also lost their game yesterday! Against Navy! I'll be sitting here praising allah, thank you very much, because if I had to sit through three hours' of UNC tanking, I'd better receive a Duke loss too.

Apparently Navy even had to bust a little ass to hold the Blue Devils off, because Duke was kicking ass and taking a few names by the half. Twenty-four hours later and I still find it hard to believe I'm living in a world where any team has to actually put their back into beating Duke's football team; maybe it's the amateur fan in me, or probably the Tar Heels fan, but man, I thought all the Midshipmen would have to do is show up!

Mmmmm, the Midshipmen. Mmmmm, military athletes. Mmmmm, Philip Rivers and LaDainian Tomlinson spatting on the sidelines of the San Diego/Green Bay game ... what?

Our friend a., one of a handful of Duke alumni allowed in our apartment, is taking us to see the Virginia Tech at Duke football game in a few weeks. I'm pretty excited; I've never been to the Duke campus before. Much like Mark Wahlberg in "The Shooter", I'm going to scout out camera locations, crowd movement patterns and sniper spots. Unlike Mark Wahlberg, I'll probably be drunk by 100pm, so if I do find any potentially awesome sniper spots, I'll end up talking about them, and possibly getting arrested. Think they'll let me update the blog from jail?

"how is the sex cannon smiling on the side lines? does he have the memory of a goldfish?"

I decided, during WWTHD?'s weekend of new things, to follow a NFL team this year. The craziness! As a chick who's only ever followed football when threatened by siblings or people I want to see naked, I expected this to be a tough call: as a kid, my brothers badgered me into cheering for the Giants with arm burn, and my exes (or people I failed at dating) had a tendency towards being the sort of 49s fans who would deny you sex for fun.

During my, uhhhh, hour of pre-kickoff research, I learned three things about LaDainian Tomlinson, and the San Diego Chargers, that titillated and intrigued me:

• LT's birthday is on the same day as mine (albeit in a different calendar year).
  
• He is also very, very good looking!
  
• Sometimes, the Chargers rock something very similar to a shade of "faggy blue" we're fond of, around here.

Clearly, the Chargers and I are meant to be together. When you consider the crush I've developed on the Padres over the last two years, it's really not a surprise.

Honestly, though, the best part of watching today's Bears/Chargers game wasn't LT's tight little butt, or his touchdown pass in the third quarter, or even Philip Rivers' cry to heaven/rage blackout. It was the opportunity for so, so many gay jokes about Rex Grossman, and Rex Grossman getting sacked, and Rex Grossman making the face whilst wearing a retarded baseball cap. It was about me drinking, and talking to my football enabler, and saying 'Sex Cannon' over and over again. And where there is football, and gay jokes, and mentions of Sex Cannons, there are inevitably jokes about Brady Quinn.

In this household, at least.

shep.: brady quinn, i long to watch you make out with jj redick
a.: adam morrison will hunt you down for that
shep.: brady quinn would try to persue jj with his bronzed abs
shep.: and adam's mustache would be so depressed
a.: so depressed adam might even shave and try looking nice
shep.: my world would be rocked, trufax

And .... scene. Time for another margarita!

"Do you think TJ Yates is going to sleep alone much this fall?"

shep. and I took our show on the road tonight, heading out to Four Corners to watch Carolina take on ECU (and, more importantly, to drink some beers and eat some buffalo chicken sandwiches), and by the time ECU kicked the winning field goal with 2 seconds left on the clock, the whole place was on their feet shouting and stomping, and the post-game disappointment was palpable and, unexpectedly, also unexpected. Down to the moment the ball sailed through the goalposts, everyone in the bar actually believed that the Heels were going to win. The irrational hope that Butch Davis engenders in the Tar Heel faithful is really sort of completely charming, and I didn't expect it at all.

Also, we'd like to take TJ Yates home with us.

(We used to be here, but this is a much better name.)