Thank you, ESPN, for your airing of cheerleading finals at 4 p.m. Putting this on at, say, 11 p.m. last night -- Y'know, when you were showing another pointless dog show -- might have led viewers like The Ford into a shameful night of self-abuse (and what's more shameful than spanking it to a cheerleading competition?) instead of a shameful night of drinking.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Also, a quick question: Are MVP voters allowed to take bedroom companions into account?

We'll know the answer if Tony Romo (Jessica Simpson, Carrie Underwood) beats out Tom Brady (Gisele Bundchen, Bridget Moynihan).

Then again, were this the case, Kurt Warner might never have taken home an MVP award.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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It is a somber night for The Ford.

87 percent of The Official Fantasy Football Teams were eliminated from the playoffs, his buddy got dumped, and, fresh off a night of dominating -- The Official Handicap stands at -11 -- at Golden Tee (and serving as a de factor club pro for The Official Girlfriend), he shot a tremendously disappointing round. And there are no bare breasts in front of him.

Of course, given that The Ford is at The Official Bar, and not a gentleman's club, this is, perhaps, to be expected.

A long December, indeed.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Wings

The Official Red Wing had two goals on six shots tonight in a loss personally witnessed by The Ford. It's almost enough to make The Ford wish he'd worn his Wings sweater.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Ice Storm 2007

The Ford is seriously considering a lawsuit for the three deadbeat building owners who conviently forgot to salt the sidewalks in front of their buildings, leaving The Ford the option of slipping on the ice and breaking a semi-important appendage or two or walking in the street and taking his chances with oncoming traffic. Tonight in the D, traffic was the superior choice. Assholes. They can build 300 condos seemingly overnight, but can't figure out that they're liable for injuries on their sidewalks.

The Ford loves Detroit, but there's some damn big idiots in charge of some damn big projects here.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Friday

Into each life, a little rain must fall, and into each group of drunks, someone must be the guy who makes severely hedonistic suggestions. This is the guy who suggests the gentleman's club at 1, when it's an extraordinarily unproductive activity, and the guy who buys a round of shots for the table of moderately cute girls in the corner at 1:30. The lesson being, of course, is that this fella is a double-edged sword, capable of both good and evil in one fell swoop.

The Ford was that fella tonight, though his hedonistic desires were limited to a bowl of chili plain with cheese.

And with such a simple desire, he dragged a foursome down into the coney muck with him.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Cougs

After The Ford's first fully-watched Cougar game of the season, he's feeling good. The win over those Bing-Crosby-loving Zags has him feeling like The Official Alma Mater's players should be banging hookers and snorting coke off of strippers' midsections. Of course, strippers and hookers are few and far between on the Palouse -- just ask Mike Price -- so The Ford feels a bit of remorse that he was unable to serve as a proxy in semi-sinful-Detroit. Then again, when the game ends at 1:26 EST, The Ford's options are limited. Especially if you ask The Official Girlfriend.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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More Musings Over Laundry

Yes, it's Day 2 of The Official Laundry Project, partially brought to you by The Official Girlfriend, and The Ford is back with more questions.

1.) Why does The Ford have so many T-shirts and so few pairs of underwear? What does this say about The Ford?

2.) How is The Ford supposed to wash The Official Collection Of Hawaiian Shirts with shrinking them? The Ford's experimenting with the delicate cycle, but he fears it may be for naught.

3.) Who is the tiny woman who has left a load of laundry in The Official Auxilary Laundry Room? (The Ford has his own washer/dryer combo in The Official Apartment but needs to do multiple loads at once.) All The Ford knows is that she is tiny, likes pink (both the color and the clothing line from Victoria's Secret), and has several newly cleaned-though-not-claimed flesh-colored G-strings. The Ford, as he is wont to do, suspects a stripper. Then again, what stripper chooses to live across the street from a strip club? (Welcome to The Official Neighorborhood.)

Thus sayeth The Ford

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Musings Over Laundry

Five things The Ford has always wanted to ask every unattached woman he meets in a bar -- but never has (in no particular order):

1.) Wanna fuck?

2.) No, really.

3.) What size bra do you wear?

4.) What color eyes does The Ford have?

5.) Which way to Pantytown?

Thus sayeth The Ford

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