If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I have praised my Sir Nerdalot on many an occasion on my blog. This is not one of those times. Because, what is almost as bad as the Man Flu? Yup, you got it: Handegg-season!
Now, what is so wrong about Handegg-season, and why do I have a problem with it? Oh, let me count the ways (brace yourself):
We are Norwegians. We live in Denmark. Handegg games come on in the middle of the night over here, because what’a-ya-know; we don’t play that stupid sport over here! Thus, we have to wait for the Americans to wake up, have their coffee, and start their game – and by then it is evening and soon night over here in the “Old World”
Who in their right mind would choose the poor copy, when we can have the real deal in our own part of the world? Why does the good ol’ Nerd not follow Rugby? It’s right over there in the UK! He can get a cheap airplane ticket and go see a game live if he wants too!
There are no motorcycles in Handegg! Yes, you read me correct;
There. Are. No. Motorcycles. In. Handegg!
Shocking, isn’t it? They wear crash helmets, but at no point in the game will there be even one measly little motorcycle!
For the sake of communication, our relationship, love, respect and blah blah blah, I have asked the good Nerd exactly what he likes about Handegg, what is it that gives him pleasure to watch this strange game – to which he gave me a lengthy lecture that made absolutely no sense and bored me to sleep. When I woke up, I asked him to sum his long rant up in one sentence (ten words maximm), or – if possible – into one word. “Tactics”, he said. He must think I’m stupid. This is “tactics” displayed in Handegg: Run a yard – and everyone in a pile. Run another yard – everyone in a pile. Run another yard, and I’m out like a candle in a windstorm. Pfth! Tactics Schmactics!
Now, I could live with all of the above – if the Nerd had his priorities straight. You see – and this is the clincher, really – the other night, the Nerd was all engulfed in a NFL thingy. Yanno, wearing his jersey and being all “handegg-nerdy”. I was craving some attention, as I hadn’t seen the Nerd all friggin day. I tried to strike up a conversation, but he was not really listening to me, and only granted me answers in one syllable grunts. Figures, eh? So I opted for my go-to-move in situations like this; I started to take my clothes off all seductive-like. Yanno, batting eyes, pouty lips, wriggling slowly out of my clothes. I was down to my undies and socks, and still no response from the Nerd. I asked him, quite annoyed, was he unable to see what the heck I was doing?
«Yea», he responded grumpily, «why can’t you sort the laundry somewhere else?»
Want to see my previous contributions to the #WeekendCoffeeShare? They are funny, I promise: