Will I never be free of Brett Favre?

The BBQ Pit
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[sub](A light, Friday rant with no serious implications)[/sub]

As many of you know, the story of how my username, jarbabyj came to be, is a traumatic one at best. It stems from a dream of my arch nemesis, Brett Favre, and how I had sex with him in the backseat of an old car (which is probably that asshole’s sex setting of choice), and became pregnant with his child.

As a dedicated Bears fan, I was mortified that I was indeed, not unlike Rosemary, carrying the child of Satan, and when I gave birth to it alone in my bedroom, I decided to cram it into a jar and keep it in my dresser, so no one would know I had a Packer baby. But I took care of it well, and it was happy to have me as a mother.

Thus it was…my jarbaby.

Since that horrid dream, I have been free of the subconscious incubus like attacks from the ever irrascible Brett Favre, until last night.

LAST NIGHT, when as I entered REM sleep I found myself in a wood panelled basement covered in Packers paraphenalia (typical interior decorating for Wisconsinites), cuddled naked, under a blanket, with none other than:

The unholy Brett Favre.

Friends, even in a dream state, I was appalled, as the slimy and drug addicted, ill shaven, arrogant bastard put his moves on me while we watched ESPN, claiming that his heart was heavy with all of the razzing he took from NFC North fans, and that I didn’t understand how mean it was, the things that I said about him all the time.

And I gave in to him. Dammit. I had sex with Brett Favre in a dream.

OR WAS IT A NIGHTMARE?

I am inclined to believe the latter.

AM I SO IRRESISTABLE THAT EVEN MY ENEMIES ARE DRAWN TO MY HOO-HA? In the words of our Savior Jesus Christ, I must implore all Packers and Packer Backers:

“GET THEE BEHIND ME FAVRE,”

I will have no more of thee.

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Yeah, he couldn’t do anthing from behind.

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Please, harness the power of this almighty hoo-ha and use it for good.

That is, distracting Michael Vick this weekend.

“And lo the power of the hoo-ha did come down from upon the highest mountain and bestow upon its followers a victory most righteous.”

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I’m sorry. The problem is, if the Almighty Urlacher is in the room, or indeed a five mile radius, the hooha is automatically drawn in to THAT.

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JARBY’S GOT FAVRE COOTIES!!
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

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Whoa, Beavis … this chick is a SLUT!

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…or Marty Booker, like last Sunday… d&r

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I notice you haven’t really been gloating much about your beloved pack this week, eh beagle? Nearly beaten by the fucking Falcons?

Must be rough.

J

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Jar, just don’t get too jealous seeing Urlacher laying on top of Vick most of the afternoon. It’s just his job, you see.

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I’d like to point out that this happened in only the 2nd week of the NFL season. Lord only knows what kind of dreams and thoughts our dear jarbabyj will encounter around week 10.

And if the Packers and Bears somehow meet in the NFC championship, I am inclined to believe that erotic dreams involving Favre, leather, multiple lubricants, a cadre of serving wenches, and a well placed Lombardi Trophy well lead to jarbabyj’s neighbors calling the police with complaints of lewd and lascivious activities in her house due to the constant maning and yelping as REMFavre completes another touchdown pass in her end zone.

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How dare you suggest that this will happen again? I’m seeing an exorcist this afternoon to prevent that very thing.

Perhaps a dose or fifty of Vicodin will keep him out of my head.

OR WILL IT ATTRACT HIM MORE???

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No. Your id and libido will duke it out until you give in and have sex with him every night, in every dream, until during the day, watching the Pack play, you see him going back to pass completely naked… and aroused.

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Hey, it could have been worse. You could of dreamed you had sex with John Madden while Pat Sumeral did play by play.

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I hear the dude can weld like nobody’s business.

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Heh heh…

Sex with John Madden…
POW!

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That really would have been worse, because I would have violently murdered myself upon waking.

J

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While I hate football and couldn’t tell you the difference between a touchdown and a halfback, I can tell you that if I have to hear Mr. Favre’s name pronounced aloud ever again, I will be forced to shoot whomever says it. Mr. Jane is an avid football fan and every weekend I hear these assholes saying “Faaaarrrvve.” Including him. You can’t say it that way, see. The “r” comes AFTER the “v”. I don’t care who’s name it is. It’s not spelled that way; it is not possible. It makes me need a Vicodin.

And re:the OP, jar, Mr. Jane says he’d like to see ya on some of that Favre. :smiley:

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There, there, jarbaby, maybe you ought to take in a movie. Relax a little, you know.

How about “Something About Mary?”

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I am officially calling the police, as I am positive that I have been placed under a sort of remote mind control by Hamlet and Beagledave…for last night featured:

Brett Favre sex dream number FOUR. NUMBER FOUR people. It’s not right. Not one sex dream in my whole life about Brian Urlacher…but Brett Favre crowbars his way into the subconscious like a thief in the night. I suppose some good has come of it, as I shower vigorously after each encounter.

and yes, it was very good.

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And did everything else pale in comparison?
Heheheh…
Your cheesehead-in-a-jar,
Myron