Monday, February 13, 2006

Let Be Real

So I've been super slacking on the Let's Be Real posts lately, I know I have. Hey! You in the back! Put down the pitchfork and hear me out alright? I said I was getting myself together for the new schedule. So anyway, here you go.

Today's Topic: The "Wives"
My sister (whom I haven't seen in about a month) called me up a few nights ago fuming. Her new on campus boyfriend (who happens to be on the football team) is giving her a few problems. From what I could gather of her hysterical wailing and shouting, he apparently expects her to show up to all campus events by his side, a smile on her face, and interact with the other players and their girlfriends. To which I replied, "Well, honey, you're a footballl wife now."
Had she been in my line of sight, she would have undoubtedly thrown something at me. Being 2,000 miles away, all she could do was scream in my ear, "I hate you! You is such a bitch! Oh my God, just fucking forget it!"
I smiled, hit the End button and didn't move, waiting for her to call back. She did, calmly apologized and explained the situation. I repeated what I said earlier and she asked me to explain. I told her to look at the NFL or any other major sports affiliation for that matter. Once you become a successful athlete, you get married and the woman's job is to make you look good when he can't. She joins a long line of women before her who have pulled on the cape and donned the crown; thus becoming the "wife."

The Wives band together and form a clique, sometimes more high schoolish than others. Usually they are all friends and have much in common besides their husbands. They shop together, go out to eat, plan play dates, do each others nails and in extreme cases, can't stand each other. Your obligations are to be cool, show up to all his games, massage his kinks and sores, listen to the play-by play of the game, know something about the game and paint your face with the team colors. And have no problem doing it.
Her problem with this situation is that it is not football season anymore. Okay, that's fine, but it will be again soon. So prepare to strap on that apron wit a smile on your face and serve that football shaped ice cream cake. Cuz you're a "wife" now.


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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing