I have been forced to watch football my entire life. Yes, I said forced. I have three older brothers and a father who controlled the television when I was younger. Now, I have a fiancé who controls (one) television at least twice a week. Over the years, I have attended many college football games and thoroughly enjoyed myself, except for the time the drunk kid in front of me projectile-vomited everywhere (eeew).

But, something really weird happened this weekend.

As we were watching our beloved Tennessee Volunteers, something entered my body and forced me to jump off the couch and scream like a crazy lady. That same something made me jump around the ottoman, punch the air, and scream “Yeah, baby!” and then high-five my fiancé.

What the hell?

I hadn’t been drinking, so I can’t blame it on the alcohol. I don’t think I was suffering from a stroke or an aneurysm, either. And, when it happened again a few minutes later, I scared my poor cat, Henry, half out of his mind (his mama doesn’t go nuts…that’s his daddy’s job!).

But, as Henry slid across the hardwood, desperately trying to gain some traction only to slam into the doorframe while attempting a turn, something dawned on me.


When the (bleep) did that happen?


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