Sucks to be Castrated

Tomorrow night, the fellas are getting together for some good wholesome fun at our local Hooters. Some wings, some beer, some eye candy. Good times for all. Unfortunately, our buddy Pete will not be joining us. Why? Because during our tailgate party on Sunday, he blurted out in front of everybody, including his wife, that he was real excited about Hooters night. She put down her beer, looked straight at him, and declared, "You're not going".

Apparently Pete had a bit too much to drink yesterday and forgot about his public castration. He emailed me this morning with a sad little tale about how he went to Hooters after the game on Sunday and ate too many wings. He said that he got sick and was nauseous all night so he can't join us for Hooters night.

It's a sad, sad, SAD day when you are forced to make up some ridiculous story about why you can't hang out with the boys for some innocent fun because of your wife. Man Rule #32 should state: Thou shall not forgo Hooters night because of your wife. Damn married people.