The bluest of Fridays to all 12 of you reading this! We’ve reached Week Four of the NFL season, and this week’s Seahawks opponent you need to know about is… the Detroit Lions.
Golden Tate is back! The guy who is absolutely, unequivocally, 100-percent responsible for Russell and Ashton Wilson’s divorce is returning to Seattle this weekend to wreck some homes, jack a few doughnuts, and maybe make a catch or two.
What? Don’t pretend like you weren’t consumed by the Golden-Ashton rumors. They may be silly. They may be unsubstantiated. They may not even be true. But don’t deny it: you were sucked into the juiciness like a 40-year-old single woman on Bachelor night.
Woke up this morning remembering every detail of my dream in complete clarity. To call this the greatest dream ever is an understatement. At the very least, we need to refer to it with unnecessary capitalization of letters (EVER!).
So here’s the premise.
I’m stuck in Eugene, Oregon for whatever awful reason and find my way into a basketball arena where I’m quickly trapped along with about 20,000 or so other people.
Unbeknownst to everyone else (but beknownst to me, even though beknownst isn’t a word) we are here to be killed. Killed by none other than University of Oregon basketball coach/diabolical genius bent on world domination Ernie Kent.
Using Detroit Lions quarterback Matthew Stafford as a robot weapon of mass destruction, Kent has plotted to have us all murdered for his pure enjoyment (his motive is not made entirely clear to me, though at this point in my dream I’m in that “act first, ask question later” mode).