It's 10 below zero. It's supposed to snow later today. But my honey and I are braving the elements. We've hired a babysitter for the evening, and we're going out. Hot date. Drinks. Dinner. Entertainment.
Oh geez. Who am I kidding. It's not most women's idea of romantic.
We're bellying up to the sports bar with some wings and suds, in front of the big-screen TV to watch the Packers in the NFC Championship.
I've always been a reluctant Chiefs fan. They always let me down. They never make it all the way. They have that dumb and not-at-all-politically-correct tomahawk chop thing going on. I'm totally fair weather in Chiefs fandom.
My husband, on the other hand, is a lifelong cheesehead. He, literally, has a
cheesehead -- one of those yellow foam chunks of dairy product that he plans to take with us to the bar and parade around in public proudly wearing. (I did buy him the cheesehead one year, but you need to go easy on me. I was maneuvering strategically for an engagement ring.)
I think he's kind of sad he's not in Green Bay today, downing greasy brats and suffering frostbite to watch his beloved Pack make another bid at the big game in two weeks in Phoenix. I'm just thankful our date night features central heat.
So if you want to take some pity on me and help me keep my guy in a good mood, you could say a prayer (because of course -- you know where this is going -- God him/her self is a Packer fan). The so-called Packers Prayer, which is a take on The Lord’s Prayer, has made the rounds on the Internet:
Oh geez. Who am I kidding. It's not most women's idea of romantic.
We're bellying up to the sports bar with some wings and suds, in front of the big-screen TV to watch the Packers in the NFC Championship.
I've always been a reluctant Chiefs fan. They always let me down. They never make it all the way. They have that dumb and not-at-all-politically-correct tomahawk chop thing going on. I'm totally fair weather in Chiefs fandom.
My husband, on the other hand, is a lifelong cheesehead. He, literally, has a
cheesehead -- one of those yellow foam chunks of dairy product that he plans to take with us to the bar and parade around in public proudly wearing. (I did buy him the cheesehead one year, but you need to go easy on me. I was maneuvering strategically for an engagement ring.)I think he's kind of sad he's not in Green Bay today, downing greasy brats and suffering frostbite to watch his beloved Pack make another bid at the big game in two weeks in Phoenix. I'm just thankful our date night features central heat.
So if you want to take some pity on me and help me keep my guy in a good mood, you could say a prayer (because of course -- you know where this is going -- God him/her self is a Packer fan). The so-called Packers Prayer, which is a take on The Lord’s Prayer, has made the rounds on the Internet:
“Our Favre,
Who art in Lambeau,
Hallowed be thine arm.
Thy bowl will come,
It will be won.
In Phoenix as it is in Lambeau.
And give us this Sunday,
Our weekly win.
And give us many touchdown passes.
But do not let others pass against us.
Lead us not into frustration,
But deliver us to the valley of the sun.
For thine is the MVP, the best of the NFC,
and the glory of the Cheeseheads,
now and forever.
Go get’em. Amen.”
Comments