Allan Drills Daisy -- From the Dusty Archives
Daisy Barringer and I first got to know each other through our work on a popular women's website I shall not name because that way trouble lies (it's a long sad story). It didn't take long for me to note that we shared similar senses of humour and it occurred to me that it might prove amusing to attempt a collaboration. For various reasons it never saw print, but when I took a look at it a few days ago it aroused a chuckle or two from deep within me, so I asked my co-author if she was cool with me posting it here on my site, where it was guaranteed to be read by A LOT less people than we originally intended. Some of the references are a bit dated, since it was written over a year and a half ago, but I still like it.
And if you don't, it's probably Daisy's fault.
Allan Drills Daisy (About Sports)
Allan: Daisy, as my favourite vagina-ed sports expert, I have decided to reach out to you to help me better understand the world of athletics and why it should matter to me—a man who gets winded if he fast-forwards past commercials too quickly. To that end, I’ve devised a few questions that I hope you can answer and bring me closer to my goal of becoming a more well rounded token dude.
Daisy: Allan, thank you so much for reaching out. (I hope all of the typing didn’t exhaust you or get in the way of your typical “special computer time”.) I will speculate that the folks love you as their token dude *because* you don’t know much about sports, but I appreciate your eagerness to learn. It’s endearing! In a completely sexless, none-of-us-are-ever-going-to-think-of-you-that-way way. First lesson: Don’t ever call it the “world of athletics” again. Unless you want me to fly down to whatever cute little Canuck “city” you call home and give you a Megaton Wedgie (that’s the one that doesn’t end until the underwear is literally ripped off your body). But then again, you might be into that sort of thing, in which case: keep at it!
Seriously.
Ohmygawd, how much fun are we having already?!
Now to your questions.
Allan: Aren’t sports stupid? By that I mean, aren’t the people who both watch and participate in them morons who over compensate for their mental deficiencies by growing big muscles and bragging about their bench-pressing abilities? And why were the girls on the senior volleyball team so mean to me in high school?
Daisy: Yes, yes, and because you’re really short.
But honestly, who cares about those mean girls? Have you ever played volleyball?! (Nevermind, I’ll just assume the answer is no.) It literally makes no sense. According to some hard-hitting research I did on The Internet, 20% of people “hate” volleyball and with good reason. If I’m going to be subjected to getting balls flying at my face for thirty minutes, well… I think we all know where this is going. (Hint: I’m talking about my vagina! It’s a sex reference!)
Allan: Who was the person who decided that a game that involves throwing and catching a ball with your hands should be named football? Were they stupid? Am I the first person who’s ever noticed this?
Daisy: I don’t know. Yes. No.
No, seriously. American football is derived from rugby football and zzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry. I was still thinking about balls in my face.
Allan: Wouldn’t baseball be more interesting if everyone on the field had a bat? And if it wasn’t baseball, but a Spanish telenovela about Dominican immigrants and their spicy hot Latin wives?
Daisy: I’ve been advised by my legal counsel not to answer this question.
Allan: This summer the Olympics are going to take place in London. The original Olympics featured athletes who competed in the nude. Who was the asshole who started making everyone wear clothes? Was it the same jerk from question #2?
Daisy: Nekkid people freak me out. As does this question. Next.
Allan: You’re a snowboarder. As a Canadian I implicitly understand that snow is the best possible excuse to stay inside and play video games. What’s wrong with you?
Daisy: If you have to ask what’s wrong with me, I feel like you’re not paying attention to the things I tweet to Jared Leto. Shit. Why did I write that? It’s a cry for help, Allan. A CRY FOR HELP!
Allan: People who watch sports appear to drink a lot of beer. Do the frequent trips to the bathroom that result make it seem like the events go by a lot faster and less boringly then they would if you weren’t constantly peeing?
Daisy: Sigh. Yes. Yes it does.
Allan: Doesn’t the fact that basketball players are all so tall and close to the basket make the sport much less fun to watch? Wouldn’t it be more entertaining if they were all 5’4” or shorter and mini-trampolines were scattered randomly around the court to make up the difference?
Daisy: Do they not have the Harlem Globe Trotters in Canada? You just described the Washington Generals. You should try out. You could probably get onto their lineup.
Allan: What’s the difference between being a passionate supporter of your favorite sports team and being a member of one of those cults that forces you to wear robes and get an unflattering haircut?
Daisy: The only difference is that the 49ers allow me to wear my hair however I choose. I accidentally got carried away this year and chose pigtails once. I’m in my 30s. Someone should have stopped me. WHY DIDN’T ANYONE STOP ME? A CRY FOR HELP ALLAN! A CRY FOR HELP!
Allan: Winners of sporting events often thank the deity of their choosing for their victories. If God is in fact affecting outcomes, how is this not considered cheating? Wouldn’t the only fair contests be ones that just involve atheists?
Daisy: I once dated a guy who convinced me that sleeping with other women wasn’t actually cheating, so I don’t think I’m the right person to answer this question.
Allan: If the world’s greatest MMA fighter, the world’s greatest boxer, a ninja, a Japanese sex robot and a honey badger were thrown into the same ring, how many hits would the resulting YouTube clip get? Are we talking Rebecca Black numbers?
Daisy: WTF is a Japanese sex robot?
Allan: I’ve noticed that at football games, attractive women in very brief outfits dance around like strippers with ribbon-thingies in their hands. This makes me feel funny in my pants. Why is that?
Daisy: Because you know they’d ignore you in real life.
Allan: Tim Tebow?
Daisy: He makes all of us feel a little funny in our pants, Allan. But it’s not something we say out loud.
Allan: Thanks Daisy! That was very enlightening. I feel as though I can now comfortably walk into any local beer hall where waitresses clad in vacuum-sealed hot pants serve chicken wings featuring different varieties of hot sauces. That’ll show those stupid volleyball girls! They laughed at me then, but I’ll be the one laughing now! HA! HAHA! HAHAHAHA!
DAISY: A CRY FOR HELP ALLAN! A CRY FOR HELP!