Score one for the blog team: The kickoff

If you peep the comments in my previous blog post (“The Perks of being an Asshole”), you cannot help overlook the feedback left by one “Larseniohall”. Not only can you not help overlook this comment because it’s the only comment, but also because you can’t help overlooking the fact that Mr. Larsenio is the fucking man.

Seriously, this dude is the real deal. The late, great Larsenio stars in some of my most cherished college memories such as being the ref in the famed pudding-wrestling event, when he wore only an absurd fake afro, a shirt of zebra stripes, megaphone, ridiculous sunglasses, and an even more ridiculous ear-to-ear grin that said, “Hey, now I LOVE degrading women”. Hence, when Larenio makes a request, I honor it like a ragtag mariachi band playing for loose change on a street corner…

Okay, so we’ve already established Larsenio and I attended the same small liberal arts college. What was not established was that our small liberal arts college had the worst football team in the history of worsts. This team was worse than your drunken hookup with the fat girl, worse than the Armenian genocide, worse than the worst time you zipped your fly on your wiener.

With this football team, it wasn’t so much the losing that made them the worst. While, yes, they certainly excelled in losing (3-39 record, nice guys!), they also excelled in being the biggest group of collective douche bags ever. Complete. Fucking. Douche bags.

No joke, not since the Nazis have a group of douches come together on this magnitude. They weren’t even individuals; they coalesced to form a monster douche, sort of like Captain Planet. (Except, instead of calling them Captain Douche, we called them the home team.)

Quick disclaimer: To be fair, yes, there were some cool guys on the team, but the majority were asshats.

Okay, getting back to my Captain Planet metaphor, in order to form Captain Douche the powers these “players” would have combined would have been: “Roid Rage! Farts! Failing Midterms Miserably! Majoring in Communications!” and finally, the most prominent, “Date Rape!”

While the school put up with these “superpowers” for a while, eventually the team’s loosing record got too embarrassing, thus forcing administration to dissolve the team.

And that’s when things got personal for me. You see, I had written a line in an article that went something like this:

“Let’s tackling some intense issues! And since the school axed the football team it’s the only tackling you’re going to see around this campus.”

I was pretty confident the team’s literacy rate would be low enough that I would be able to slip that one under the radar.

I guessed wrong.

Tipped off by the school’s student stalker directory, I found a throng of hulks conjugating outside my dorm looking to, “Kick my ass.” Now, if it were just a simple matter of a couple of brutes punting my buttock, I would have had no reservations. However, I believe the “ass kicking” they were referring had connotations involving also kicking me in non-ass related places as well as punching me (!).

Being the little nerd I am, I wasn’t particuarly excited about that sort of treatment. But, at the same time, I wasn’t going to lose to a team with a 3-39 record….

To be continued…