This Weekend I Took in an American Football Contest

As I have mentioned before, it behooves a nobleman to mingle with the common folk from time to time. After all we're not completely superior to normal people. Just mostly. With that spirit in mind, my father the King and I attended the Baltimore Ravens game versus the vaunted Indianapolis Colts.

I won't bore you with my theories on why the Ravens lost because, quite frankly, my football IQ trumps yours, but I will tell you all about the clowns I saw at the game. As you can imagine, any time thousands of Baltimorians are drawn to one central location, you can expect some loons to slip through the security cordons and this day was no different.

From my limited view of the crowd from the expensive seats I saw a ton of jokers walking around. I think my favorites have to be the people who buy the team jersey and then put their own clever name on the back. If you have seen this before than you know I am being very generous when I say "clever." Mostly because they aren't.

In front of me was a couple dressed to the nines in Ravens gear. The lady decided to go all out with a purple wig and Mardi Gras beads and a bunch of other useless shit. Her jersey read "Purple Dame" across the back. I'm not sure if she was inducted into any of the various English Orders, but I doubt it. Her husband seemed to be called "Big Daddy" so I think maybe it was just something they whipped up.

The lamest jersey name of the day had to be the guy to my right who had a Ray Lewis jersey complete with the name "Off the Hook" on the back. What an ass. Another highlight was the pleasant gentleman a few rows in front of us with the hat that read "Secession" across the back. Isn't that a sweet sentiment? He also stood for the National Anthem, which was a little surprising since he apparently wants to leave the Union.

After we tired of the riffraff, we made our way up to my father's friend's skybox. My father was warned ahead of time to not bring the wife because of the serving wench employed in the skybox. Word around the campfire was that she wears a tiny little referee's uniform. Oh how randy of them!

Even armed with this warning I was not prepared for what greeted me. I assumed it would be a nice young girl in a tight referee outfit. I was right about that, but I still couldn't have been more wrong. What we saw upon entering the room was the shortest skirt I have seen on a woman outside of a porno and two giant mounds of strippery boob action barely contained in a zip-up ref costume. In short, these guys really know how to party.

Since she was being manhandled the entire time by the gentleman in the skybox, I tried my best to be polite (totally not baller by the way!) and keep my eyes above the neck as much as I could. This turned out to be fucking impossible and I spent the entire second half of the game staring at her wonderful rack trying desperately to keep from motorboating her. At one point she even mashed her boobs into my arm while trying to get past me (Ebow!).

All in all it was a very enjoyable way to watch the game, once I remembered that there was a game going on. I intend to buy out the club level of the stadium for next season and make it into my own Roman-style orgy party a la Caligula and make Lisa, the sexy referee, the head concubine. You guys are all welcome to come and visit. Maybe the Ravens will make a better run for the playoffs.