I watched this week’s game after going to an open house of a 2 million dollar home I had absolutely no intention of buying (not because I couldn’t afford it, just because it only had two formal dining rooms and everyone knows that three is the new two). I gave my DVR a headstart so I wouldn’t need to be advertised to. Just to clarify, my DVR is not a “digital video recorder”, rather it is a woman named Diana Von Raapsort, who I liberated from a dangerous underground roulette racket back east where she served as croupier. Her name was something different, but we were drinking Macallan 21 on the flight back (my buddy Tom Walsh won a Global Express 5000 when he had the guts to put it all on “red”, which was crazy arrogant because he actually bet his own Global Express 5000 and the place actually had one to match his bet, so weird) and we just thought it’d be cool to change her name to something arrogant. Anyway.
The first thing that jumped out at me when I watched the game was the supermodel I had locked in the closet the night before and totally forgot about because we took the party to the guest house. The second thing that jumped out at me was that Lane Fucking Kiffin arrogantly decided he was ditching the all-white outfit (including his chick killer visor) and decided to rock a gray tactical windbreaker. For those keeping score, his hair still looked bitchin’ arrogant even without his visor crown to keep his hair in place.
USC went on to play a cat and mouse game with itself, continually stuffing the ASU offensive attack (save some super un-arrogant trickeration early on, which by the way is not arrogant because arrogant people don’t need to trick you to score), but then doing things like “totally miss field goals” and “throwing the ball to the other team” to keep the game close.
My heart did leap for joy when we went for two and succeeded, keeping us in first place for most successful 2 pt. conversations. In fairness, if I liked things like “doing math” and “looking things up”, I suspect we might also hold the record for most failed attempts, which is equally arrogant. I just like to shake things up. The world is my martini. You, Arrogant Nation, are the olives in my alcoholic ocean (unless you like Gibsons and prefer an onion to an olive, which is cool because the last time I drank a martini it was because there was no whiskey and I broke my last car stash bottle over the head of a maitre’d who claimed pasteurization was the most important innovation of all time. Not that I agree or disagree, he just had it coming).
Time out. What was the deal with Burfict, the ASU linebacker? Was Prime Ticket filming a reality show on him? Is he dating the secretive fourth Kardashian? The entire game they are doing close ups and talking about him. Now, I am down to see an NFL-bound linebacker go apeshit for a few quarters, but outside of one totally arrogant leapfrog of Stanley Havili, I thought this was pretty gratuitous. I love Petros, I listen to him on my commute (to space) and frankly, he should invite me on the damn show already. That said, he was so in Burfict’s pants I felt uncomfortable (although he is pretty arrogant for constantly taking dumps on USC even though he loves it). I love you, P. Thanks for that cigarette at the Orange Bowl in 2004. And by cigarette I mean stock tip and by thanks I mean you owe me 2 grand.
Speaking of pants, the least arrogant uniform infraction of all time was committed by the ASU Sun Pedophiles this weekend. Their helmet is a mustard yellow (whole grain, not yellow) and their pants were clearly a much different color. Now, ASU. I am super into the girls there. I can even dig your Disney pedophile on Halloween logo. The thing is, even Washington State had someone on staff who could match their helmet to their pants. I am not saying your helmet was metallic and your pants weren’t. I am saying they were two different colors of crayon (I say crayon because I am pretty sure coloring is a course offered there and before you make a ballroom dancing joke, realize that you have never seen a ballroom dancer that didn’t possess the ability to match their hat and pants if that was the goal).
Another question real quick. When did Dennis Erickson turn into the Sith Emperor from Star Wars? Holy shit, he looks more weathered than Clint Eastwood eating beef jerky in a convalescent home. I didn’t know he was on a mission to challenge Lou Holtz in a contest of who’s gone further to shit. He also apparently is on a mission to destroy the Jedi and eliminate the rebel alliance.
After the game, Lane Fucking Kiffin, when asked about next week’s game, literally said “I don’t even know who we play next week” which was so arrogant I literally drained my neighbor’s pool, filled it with rum and lit it on fire so I could roast a suckling pig for my post-game celebration (which Lane and Layla attended via satellite video conference).
In the end, we won. We became bowl eligible. It’s a big day. It means now sanctions actually meant something. If we somehow hadn’t won six games, what on earth would be the point? I mean, it ain’t a diet unless you give up bear meat and lazer tag, right? We did it Arrogant Nation. We made the sanctions count. Let’s keep it going.
Real quick, don’t let the crap about our attendance being down mean anything to you. Our 68,000 were fierce. Another thing people neglect to mention is how enormous our stadium is. Our 68K would be 10K over the capacity of Autzen Stadium, who gets a ton of media love. This is LA. Maybe the band wagon fans don’t show up when sanctions are on, but the die hards do. Arrogant Nation does. And frankly, it’s more than enough to sell out Autzen. Plus, our basketball court isn’t going to look like this:
Fight on and get after it this week. I’ll see you Thursday, scotch in my hand, smile on my face, caviar on my tiny circular bread round and my fireplace filled with bear pelts and benjamins.
Oh yeah, now that we are bowl eligible, buy a bowls t-shirt and tell the NCAA that you don’t care. This New Years, we’ll drink instead of watching us waste four quarters on a duck butter team from the Big Ten. I’m over it.