The Daily Habit: NFL

Go to fullsize image 10:25 pm

I Signed an NFL Contract but I’m Still Fetching Buggies at Target Playing in the NFL.  It’s every boys dream since fifth grade.  You practice hard, lift weights, study films and if you get good enough you go to a Division I school.  Then it’s four years of the doing the same thing, just add in some gang bangs with the chearleading squad and punch a few loudmouths in the face and you’re read to sign that big contract.  Draft day begins, you get a call from a lousy NFL team in the middle of nowhere, and now what do you do?  Buy a Porsche in every color?  Sleep with a bunch of hot chicks at the local watering hole?  Blow all of your signing bonus on an emu farm in Rancho Cucamonga?  Hell no.  You put your apron on like you do every day at midnight, then you go out in the friggin parking lot and fetch those goddamn buggies. 

Nick Urban, former standout lineman at Winona State and brand new Minnesota Viking, isn’t quitting his job and he isn’t buying much:  He’s going to get a really gay tattoo.  It’s going to be a stupid red bullseye underneath the words, “Expect More. Pay Less.”  Urban works (or worked) at Target, and you know what that dumbass did when he found out the Vikings wanted him to play for the team?   He put on the red shirt and worked his scheduled shift at Target (http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/blog/shutdown_corner/post/New-Vikings-signee-retains-his-loyalty-to-Target?urn=nfl,161446).

The next step for Urban is making the roster,  which may or may not happen.  Got to give it to the lad though.  He went to a no-name colloge in east Timbuktu, and he signed a contract with the Vikes, but he still had the minerals to stay on the job, even though it sucks.  Anybody else would have hung up the phone after the life-changing phone call, walked to the nearest manager, told them to f!$k off, found the nearest customer and told them to f!$k off too.  After that it would have been off to the home and garden department to find that slutty little blonde and inform her of the good news.  Then it’s lots and lots of sex before training camp where it will ultimately come down to a yellow tag hanging from a locker that basically means beat it, you’ve been cut.  Maybe fetching buggies one last night at Target wasn’t such a bad idea after all.  Nothing like planning for the future after life in the NFL.

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~ by the115 on 05/07/2009.

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