No, this post has nothing to do with the Olympics. Don't worry, there is plenty of time left to talk about how my heart swells with pride every time Michael Phelps wins a gold and I tear up along with his mother. I'll spare you that for now, but consider yourself fair warned.
This post has something to do with a sport that is thankfully NOT in the Olympics. Football- American football.
I used to think that I had one of the few men in the world that didn't care about football. Afterall, we spent our time going to concerts in the park and cultural events galore. You name it, we did whatever was happening in the city. Then we bought a house, got married and had a kid and some (ha! most! all!) of those cultural events started to get overshadowed for more domestic and baby activities. Which meant more time at home- which is fine, we actually kind of like being homebodies now. Which meant more time with our friends at home and on weekends in the winter, that meant football was on the TV. All it took was my best friend's husband (you know, my other other half) to encourage my husband to join his fantasy football league. It was all over.
The problem with my husband being a super smartypants is that he learns fast. Real fast. And yeah, it seemed like in a matter of weeks my cultural loving, opera-going husband became one of those guys. He can talk like he's been watching football and drinking beer since 5th grade. Ok, minus the beer, the dude is allergic to alcohol! (It's ok, don't feel bad for him, feel happy for me and my life long designated driver!)The fantasy football draft day has been set and I'm just gearing myself up for the moments my husband turns into someone I never thought possible. Well, I now have something to counter. Fantasy Project Runway. Now that's a fantasy league I can get behind! Join Team Spice! I know, like we don't have better things to do, like, pull more weeds and all that good stuff.