No man can ever make fun of a woman for having an extensive shoe, clothes, purse, whatever collection in front of me again. Why? Fantasy football.
Look, I totally get the appeal. If I were an avid sports fan (Yankees, Notre Dame, Miami Dolphins, and Flyers, in case you were wondering) I would probably love to have a shot at managing a faux team. Drafts seem pretty exciting – why else would Boy and his friends have hoofed it to AC for their fantasy baseball draft this spring? (Do not say booze, or women. I’ll punch you. Gambling and buffets are acceptable.)
I have nothing against drafts, but I do not want any dude (or even female, for that matter) to make fun of my TANGIBLE, FUNCTIONAL shoes in my closet, especially when said person was just freaking out because there are just no good quarterbacks left to pick from.
In all seriousness, I’m intrigued by this. Boy has his first of two fantasy drafts tonight, this one for work, which means he’s not going to take it as seriously as the one he’ll have on Sunday with his best friends. This one takes place online, via Yahoo!, and I’m going to be front row for the entire thing.
So far I know he has second pick, which is nice, but then he’s got to wait verrryyy long to pick again. The picks not only go through the remaining eight guys in the draft, but they then come back the other way, which means that after Guy #10 makes his pick, he makes another, and then it goes to Guy #9, Guy #8 and so on.
He’s already utilized a notebook page to write down players according to position and tier so that when one gets picked he can easily see who his next choice would be. So organized.
Starts at 9:30, goes ‘til 11:30. Let’s see how this shakes out, and what this fantasy shite is all about.
8:08 p.m.: He’s currently “mock drafting,” which means this is a practice one with strangers, teams that won’t stick. Has just exclaimed, “Fuck you! Ugh, you mother fucker,” and balled up his fists, ala me at 10 years old when I was positive that my parents were denying me that one more Cabbage Patch doll for my collection.
9:29: “One minute!” I just said. “32 seconds!” he shot back. Touchy, touchy.
9:30 p.m.: “Yes, he took Rodgers! I’d rather Foster.” And I’d like to remove this little bug that just flew into the wine that is so essential to me getting through this night, but down the drain it goes. On to the vodka.
9:41 p.m.: He’s a very quiet and methodical drafter, so I’m not seeing much action on my end. I was expecting some sort of meltdown. Maybe I watch too many episodes of “The League”?
9:42 p.m.: Wait. Was just asked to quit playing the bubble game I’m addicted to because it’s infringing on the internet and making his draft cut out. Jeez.
9:50 p.m.: Almost went to drink that wine (which is still sitting next to me because I’m too lazy to get up), then I remembered: bug.
9:53 p.m.: Episodes of season 2 of “The Walking Dead” are playing in the background. In seeing these the second time around nothing has changed; Lori is still the worst female character on TV.
10 p.m.: Not only is the draft going on but Hard Knocks just started. GUYZ, THERE IS SO MUCH FOOTBALL HAPPENING AT ONCE.
10:02 p.m.: There is a guy drafting along with him with the name “Ben There Raped That.” I get that it’s a play on Roethlisberger but, come on, that’s fucking gross and it makes me angry. #decenthumanbeingobservation
10:35 p.m.: Am tearing up as the Dolphins let go of Les Brown on Hard Knocks, even though I already know that happened. May be a little drunk.
10:45 p.m.: We are so bored.
10:59 p.m.: It’s over! A half hour early! And he’s happy with the team he has! And he got RG3 as his quarterback (the guy that wears the Superman socks!!!), so he’s going to name his team RG-3PO.
Overall, this night was a win.