While I'm not going to druge up a bunch of the game scenarios that happened last sunday night, I'll tell you what happened AFTER the game, in a feeble attempt to forget about the monstrosities that just occured, i started drinking liquor until the game didn't matter as much any more, which was all fine and good until my liver realized I hated it. So it decided to tag team with my stomach and declared war.
A GMC Yukon was the innocent bystandard for the new found rage, so it retreated to the side of the road so I could continue this battle against myself.
The next 1 hurt was my LT jersey, where it is now in critical condition soaking in a bathtub from massive damage. The other casualty was a t-shirt that lay dead on arrival. My cell phone only suffered minor injuries and was released the next day.
This was not the only battle that I suffered through as a result of my fandom for the beloved Chargers. While resting comfortably in my own bed, nursing my battle wounds, I decided to reward all the hard work my kidneys performed. While making that pilgrimmage, my floor decided it was the time to strike. It cleverly placed an object in front of my feet, forcing me down to it's level quickly. The resuly was a minor black eye, and the weapon of choice of the carpet, the dreaded rug burn.
fucking chargers.
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