Here it is, mere hours from my earlier post. Hell, yeah, I been to the bar. So? Wouldn't you have drank a few if you was in the same zone?
Needless to say, the oldest son had received his "trophy, picture, and shirt" basically as an end to the season. His coaches attempted to say nice things, but they ran dry after "...a nice kid and big offensive lineman."
Kiss my ass mother fuckers! They were shocked my family actually showed up. F'em! We ain't playing on that league next season anyways. Neither is my nephew. Find something 20 miles closer to home I will. We drove and dropped off the niece's, nephew's, and another player's stuff from today after the "picnic". I was nice about that. Every time we turned around it felt like we weren't wanted - go figure. Santa may hate me but FUCK 'EM!!!!
(hand over mouth) Sorry. Maybe I had too many doubles at the bar, but oh well. You've read worse than this before. Pray to Santa.. I know most of my kids are.
PeacE
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