Summer's here! If I were still in school, I'd dream of having me a blast, meeting a girl crazy for me, who thought I was cute as can be, then we'd make out under the dock till 10 o'clock, followed by a shot from the clinic doc (that's how the song goes, right? Ah, Summer lovin'…)
But for the rest of us who live in the town of Grownup-Gas-and-Electric-bill-ville, the only real indicators that spring is over is that the steering wheel burns our fingerprints off, the malls are stuffed with loitering punks whose nut-less parents once again failed to force them into getting jobs, lightning victims happen almost daily and panhandlers break out disturbingly tight "Daisy Dukes." Oh yeah, and July 4th falls on a Monday this year. (F**K!)
The only seasonal occurrences remaining consistent as youthful exuberance spills into soul-crushing adulthood are sports, from the boys of summer to the short-sleeved mugshots of off-season NFL players. So let's fire up the grill, grab a Kool-Aid with a splash of Daddy's happy juice and consult my crystal sweaty-balls for what we can expect from the dog days of 2011. It's SPFabulous! (Sorry.)
Apparently up to his saggy chest with man-titty jokes, Phil Mickelson will show up to the US Open in Bethesda strapped with a prototype "sports-bro" which results in both a smoother, more comfortable swing as well as a cocktail napkin with Tiger Woods' cell number. Awk-waaard!
The ACLU will crash the NASCAR Coke Zero 400 to protest the pre-race prayer, citing it is offensive to agnostic rednecks. Jesus is later spotted with a Dale Junior jersey and a cold Bud slurring, "Can I please have just one f***ing sport, for the love of Dad?"
This article appears in May 12-18, 2011.