The Secrets Men Keep....

from each other!

This week Tony is working the night shift at work. His Fantasy Football Draft was scheduled a for Tuesday night. Since he wasn't going to be here he asked if I would mind drafting his players for him. I kind of giggled and said, "I guess." I really thought he would find someone else to do it, but he didn't. He let his friend know that I would be the one picking his players for him and his friend said he would give me a hard time in the chat room. Whatever, I have quicker wit and better typing skills than any of those little men.

Tony made his little instruction sheet for me. There aren't that many instructions, just pick 2RBs, 2 WR, 1 QB, 1 TE and then pick whatever. I say I need to know what players he wants. He says, whoever is ranked best at the time your turn comes up, except, this one guy he wanted as a TE. I forget the guys name now, but he is a rookie and he figured nobody would pick him right away. He also wanted me to get a good QB if they all start to disappear early and then I could go back and get the RBs and WRs.

Fast forward to 8 p.m., I have to try and log in now while Wesley is screaming because ESPN has trouble with their servers. What? Doesn't ESPN have a zillion channels and Disney as an owner. Shouldn't they have the best servers ever made? They don't, the site stinks, I got in right away, but several times during the draft my connection was weak and the draft was paused innumerable times.

I began picking his players and decided I was not going to talk to these men because they all have really silly names like Poo Flickers and Krispy Kream Skank, some stupid stuff like that. They are all related to either urine or feces or boogers, you know, typical immature guy stuff. Well, except for my husband. His is just so original, I was completely ashamed of the name he created. My husband is the absolute white man, white, white, white. His team name is "Pimpin' Ain't Easy" and I almost died. There was no way I was going to talk under that name. I asked told him I would prefer something related to vomit, but I wasn't allowed to change his team name.

After about 8 picks I decided I would call him because the main player slots were full and now it was time for the extras. He was on the phone with me for the rest of the drafting time and picked the second half of all of the players. The draft ended, some guy mentioned that is f'ing wife called, which did prompt me to post and ask; "What is a f'ing wife?" Nobody answered. (By the way, he didn't actually put in the apostrophe, I added it because it bothered me to type it the other way.)

The next morning Tony said he spoke with his friend, J, after the draft was over. J said (this is no lie and hilarious) "The entire first half of the draft she was picking really well, but then she started drafting all of these strange picks." So, Tony says, "Hmmm, I don't know, I will have to see when I get home." What? HE picked the entire second half of the draft. Then, J says, "She also picked Trent Green, like 4th or something instead of getting another running back." Tony tells him that I picked that guy because I think he is cute. That statement is only half true, the cute half. I was following directions! I guess now I am known as the flightly wife that knows nothing about football. It makes me laugh that he forgot to mention that he was the one giving the orders.

I wonder what else men don't tell each other. Probably a lot, they aren't quite as revealing as women seem to be with each other. I guess, though, once you have given birth and had the entire hospital staff up your behind or had your entire abdomen pulled out and then replaced with 18 people watching, there really isn't anything too private anymore. Since I have had both procedures I am pretty much an open book.