Good morning Vikings, it’s been another slow week in this Purple Nation in which we live. Thankfully for me, I’ve been able to occupy my time with some healthy doses of Red Dead Redemption and the fantastic Lost Finale. But how, I hear you ask, is Ol’ Mr Childress coping in these dark times? Well, let’s delve into the wonderful world of his Beard to find out…
8am: I’m still a 5 o’clock shadow of my former self. I’m not going to take it personally though, it is hot after all, and now the whole legion of Vikings players have taken a period of hair fasting, in honour of the mullet that was. We don’t grow, until it grows back.
9am: Brad has been sat in front of his computer for 45 minutes now, just staring at Twitter, considering whether to open an account. If I were him, I’d’ve signed up the moment that jackass opened his mouth. “Oi! Sharper! I’m stapling a bulls-eye onto your nutsack, and we ain’t gonna call Jared and Pat off you until you are whining like the little bitch you are!” I wonder if that would all fit into 140 characters…
10am: Brad didn’t sign up. He got all the way to the end of registration, even had his username as heartofachampion, then wussed out. Ended up calling McKinnie and telling him that Sharper said he was a gimptard in the hope that the gimptard takes the bait and has a handbags at 10 paces battle in cyberspace.
1pm: After a spot of lunch and a tribute to Phil Hartman, it’s time for Brad to embarrass himself on the golf course. Luckily he seems to have ditched his fisherman’s hat in exchange for an all black get-up (did I mention it was a hot one today?). He is a very strange creature.
3pm: The going is slow on the course, but it’s all for a good cause. And it’s nice to see the lads out on the course, having fun. Pat can’t quite bring his arms together to grab a putter on account of his rotund figure, All Day is racing the ball to the hole, Kleinsasser can’t hit the ball off the tee, Visanthe is living up to his nickname of The Shank, as he hooks balls left and right (though he might just be aiming at Sharper who I swear is stalking McKinnie following a healthy volley of Twitter abuse at lunchtime. Haven’t seem much of Jared, after the first hole he snapped his driver in half and now is sat up in a tree, using the two halves as make-shift spears to throw at ducks.
5.30pm: I was wondering when this good day was going to take a sour turn. Brad got all the way to the 16th green, when Judd Zulgad asked him about Brett’s surgery… “What are you talking about? Surgery? You must have him mistaken for another nearly retired Quarterback called Brett?”…. Silence…. Then I start quivering (actually it was Brad’s lip, but believe me, I was scared for my own safety), and Brad storms off.
7pm: 2 tickets. One for speeding, the other for driving whilst using a cell phone. Brad couldn’t wait to call him. Now he’s on the hard shoulder playing nicey nice with Sgt. Bob, who doesn’t realize that the bearded man staring back at him from the driving license is the same man in the driver’s seat, with a rather pathetic me below his nose.
9pm: After the “misunderstanding” Brad is back at home, and mumbling to himself… “Obviously was me? I don’t look that different do I? I thought I looked homeless back then (OUCH!)! Guess I’ll have to get a new license now, one for when I’m looking ‘rugged’ and one for when I’m looking ‘respectable’!”
10pm: Finally he realizes why he was pulled over in the first place, then gets angry, then calls Brett back. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE SURGERY? I HAD TO FIND OUT FROM JUDD BLEEDIN’ ZULGAD! YOU DON’T HAVE THE HEART OF A CHAMPION, YOU DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT ME, YOU’RE JUST A MEDIA WHORE…… look Brett, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that…. of course I do…. sorry I’m just a little annoyed at always being the last one to find out… I know you do………… I am….” Ugh!! Sometimes I’m glad that I no longer extend all the way up to his ears, this way I don’t have to listen to the drivel on the other end of the line…