by Gary Torres
Well it was bound to happen. Nikki went to college again. I cried. I am such a big baby when it comes to my kids. I try not to be; but the tears start flowing.
Last time it happened, Nikki looked at her mom. “Mom, tell him to stop, I am only going to sixth grade. I’ll be home by 3 p.m.”
You can imagine; I really was a mess when she went to college. Besides she’ll probably meet a boy, fall in love, and live happily ever after. How am I supposed to like that?
I tricked her the same way I tricked Matthew into coming home for the summer. I told them if they came home for the summer we would have lots of fun.
Of course they tricked me because they said they would be lots of help. I forgot to mention that we needed to do some landscaping for the new house. They forgot to mention they had plans every weekend.
But lets be real. How fun am I? My idea of fun; well, it just isn’t that fun. Even I find myself not wanting to hang out with myself because I am just not that fun.
About the only one that thinks I am fun is Turbo. What could he know about fun? He has a learning disability because I accidentally gassed him when he was a puppy. I mean for Pete’s sake, he still looks surprised at how familiar the dog in the mirror looks every time he walks past it. His idea of fun is rolling around in a stinky dead carcass.
Of course who am I to talk? Maybe, it’s the mirror; every time I look into it I see someone that is tall, dark, and handsome. And my too kind and loving wife reminds me that I am short, bulbous, splotchy, portly, and balding.
I didn’t really think she needed to use the word bulbous. I mean that sounds more like something you plant in the springtime.
I don’t think I liked some of her other words she used to describe me…like “portly”. That is only one letter away from “porkly”. I don’t want to be that close to being a porker. Portly…means I am simply a slurred letter away from being a “porkly pig”.
Oh well. Who am I kidding? I probably am portly and bulbous. But, oh well. I still have my sense of humor; which, by the way, a recent study found that women often thought of men that were funny as also sexy. No women I know; but some woman somewhere, might think that even if I am bulbous and portly that I could be sexy because I have a sense of humor.
Of course, she probably wouldn’t think I was sexy, when she found out that I am actually “porkly” and “portly.”
All this talk of porkly reminds me of why I started to write this article. It was because there is the big pig skin game. I don’t know why they used to call footballs pigskins, but they did.
And, there you have it, I am back to my point. Portly or bulbous, it doesn’t matter, what matters right now is that Monticello and San Juan are playing football this weekend. Come out and yell for your favorite team.
And just remember, it is a game. We are not enemies; only rivals. We don’t yell at people, we yell for someone.
We don’t scream at the referees, second guess the coach, or think that our kid should get the ball every time.
We have a good time, cheer for our team, support our kids, and eat a few snacks.
I’ll be the portly porky pig on the sideline taking pictures. Don’t mistake me for some of my fellow sideline coaches… I’ll be the tall dark handsome one.