I’ve only attempted to kick one person’s ass since I quit drinkin whiskey. That was a man, of course. And I went after him with an Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book. Told him that reading it obviously wasn’t doing him any good so maybe I’d try beating the shit out of him with it and he’d soak it up by osmosis.
I wish I could say that was the first time I’d smacked somebody in the face with a hard back. But the truth is that it isn’t. I busted another boyfriend with a Grisham novel when he kept calling me every name in the book. I told him to call me a bitch one more time. He called me a bitch one more time.
He had to go to work the next day with a busted lip and tell everybody his girlfriend beat him up with a book.
I suppose reality shows are the reason that people think nowadays you just scream at people and wave your hands around in their face looking like a psycho from Humphreys County and that’s a “fight.” That wasn’t my experience growing up. Mine was that you pick up the first thing you can find and hit somebody in the head with it before they kick your ass. For a very brief period of time, I had three brothers. Josh Sullivan can attest to this: he still remembers the time I hit in the face with King Kong Bundy. The only thing that saved me was Jason.
I said all that to say this: The Tennessee game is making me feel like I’m going to smack somebody upside the head with something.
I’m just not feeling this one. My positive is gone and I don’t know what to do without Jalen Hurd. I’m always the one on Twitter screaming “Believe!” to Vol Nation, but I need y’all to encourage me today.
And it’s hard to handle three fumbles in the first quarter without looking for somebody to fist fight.