Okay, I’m a 54 year old Canadian male who will be travelling to Dallas with his wife later on this week. Hopefully, though improbably I’ll be able to secure tickets to the Cowboy game against Washington on the 19th.
I’ve been going to sleep lately contemplating the following scenario;
I’ve somehow secured the honour of helping the Cowboys by volunteering to be a waterboy. Just before halftime, with Dallas leading by a wide margin, a big fight breaks out involving the Cowboy offense and a number of players get ejected from the game. Now in this fantasy, if the Cowboys wish to complete this game they need to suit up some more players and these players must come from the people who are at the Cowboy bench. Hence I’m asked to suit up during half time which I do so willingly.
Well I don’t see much action because the offense isn’t doing to well, and as the game nears the end, Washington is up by 5 or 6 points. But the Dallas offense manages to get within 10 yards of the Washinton goal line. Three attempts are made to penetrate all to no avail. Finally, as the crowd noise level reaches deafening proportions, Testaverde turns to me and says "Okay kid, they’re not expecting you to take the ball and we need a miracle.
Testaverde hands off the ball to me and lo and behold a huge hole opens up. Suddenly I can’t hear anything. I race for the beckoning goal line. Just as I’m about to cross the line I get slammed from the left. I’m sommersaulting through the air but with enough sense to extend my free arm to the ground and direct my self upside down over the goal line. The game is over. All the networks are clamouring for an interview. Dallas goes on to win the Superbowl and I get a ring.
My brother, who is 10 times the Cowboy fan that I am is jealous
I am currently (voluntarily) not working, so I’ve been a little bit bored. I’ve been able to catch up on watching TV, though, which I hadn’t really done in over two years. So I started watching Idols here in South Africa, because I’d never seen it before. I have to admit it’s been fun to watch.
At any rate, mostly due to my boredom, I started a blog about it, just sort of writing down my thoughts on each week’s show - what I thought of the contestants, who I think should go through, who I think will go through, etc. I emailed a link to the editor of the SA Idols III website, and promptly thought nothing more of it. However I managed to snag a link on their website, so now I have all these silly little fantasies going through my mind…
One day, I’ll open my email and there will be a message from the editor saying they’ve been reading my blog, and would I like the opportunity to get some actual “up-close” information? You know, get invited to a taping, get a chance to talk with the contestants, judges, etc. I’d have tons of viewers tuning into my blog to see what I have to say each week, and get offered the chance to write an official column for next year’s show. My name becomes synonymous with Idols South Africa, people love my writing, I get serious press credentials under my belt, and become a world-famous writer…
Yeah, all that because I got a link. What can I say? A girl can dream!
Since the levees broke in New Orleans, I have been fantasizing daily about being a quick-thinking military logistics expert who can organize a large, timely rescue effort (new and improved! now featuring bottled water and MREs!), resulting in the alleviation of misery and the saving of lives.
Unfortunately, I was an English lit major. So, no go.
My fantasy is pretty mundane. My fantasy is that I’ll someday get a job. As the days go by and my mortgage becomes more and more past due, I’m becoming more and more convinced that it is indeed a fantasy.
My fantasy is to live in a big country house in England, with fireplaces and all kinds of pantries and attics and closets to store my huge collection of silver and crystal and Spode china, and antique linens. It would be autumn, and it would be damp outside, and my favorite garden would be full of brambles and rosehips, and surrounded by an old stone wall. I would wear tweed skirts and my own hand-knit fairisle sweaters (wait a minute… I already do that) and take long walks, then curl up in front of the fire with a very heavy and very valuable book (or with my knitting). I would have about three enormous and fiercely loyal purebred dogs that somebody else would clean up after. I would sleep in a four-poster bed with heavy, rich hangings. I’d have an Aga.
Phooooo. Long way from reality. Except for the tweed skirts.
Right now, my fantasy is that my parents will let me to go to a My Chemical Romance concert in Chicago next weekend. Then, I meet the band afterwards and get their autographs and pictures.
My fantasy is to meet a woman in college that is intelligent, focused, likely a science major with an artistic hobby that likes to dance, watch bad movies, and is a huge nerd. And to top it all off, she is very interested in me.
My current fantasy is to have a job that I really like - that I can do well in just 40 hours (or less) a week - in which I am stimulated, reward, promoted and paid extremely well. Additionally I have the money to replace my very wrecked car.
Well , one of my guilty little fantasies was written up as a writing challenge at a writing group I belong to. It had to be under 3000 words, a fanfic involving a pre-exsisting character or celebrity , with the title A Lazy Summer Day.
Warning Sexually explicit (Yeah, right , like that’s stop any of you ! )
Sattua, can I live in your fantasy, too? Huh? Please? I’d just want some extra space for lots and lots of full bookshelves, and really, the house can fit that, right?
A nice Arts & Crafts style home with lots of wood detail. Leaded glass windows that filter light like only heavy antique glass can. Two car garage with my favourite rides inside (audi and porsche). Maybe a Ducatti for the odd wild hare day. A detached wood shop where I can build and refinish furniture and work with stained glass for the house. Maybe throw some pottery with a little kiln for firing it.
And oh yeah… two hot chicks to share the warm winter fire with.
I’ll trade that last one for my kids coming to live with me.
The pain you feel in your left side was caused by an heretofore unheard-of Redskins defensive lineman. Now forty-five years old and having spent almost one-hundred present of his football career as center, he was recently signed and his first game as an NFL pro is in the uniform of his beloved Redskins right in the heart of Cowboy country.
His shoulder slams into you and drives you further back onto the playing field, having stopped you inches short of crossing the goal. Your back is driven onto the field, landing squarely on the five yard line. The roar that you’ve been hearing for the last few seconds is the demon-like growl of the lineman that’s delivered the last, and most fateful, hit of the game.
Looking skyward, you unsnap your chinstrap and ask “Did I make it?”
I stand up as the final gun sounds, pulling my right shoulder free of your torso. As I remove my helmet, I look down at you and say
“Not while I’m defending!”
Of course I then help you to your feet and we congratulate each other on a game well played. You know, sportsmanlike and all. I want to win but not be all IN YOUR FACE about it.
Final score, Redskins 26, Cowboys 21.
Then the whole championship season and SuperBowl ring and all that…
But I REALLY want my Redskins to have a win over the at-home Cowboys.
