Finding The Funny #40 :Poms Poms and Circumstance

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This post below is written by Brenna Barzenick, author of Tsumommy, and it made me laugh the first time I read it. We follow each other on Twitter, where she is known as @punderwoman (don't you love it?), so she knows I like word humor. Since it is football season and everything, I thought it was a great time to share it with you. I know most of you know everything there is to know about football. When the ref says "4th and goal", you don't even ponder for a second what that could mean. You don't ask "What does the tight end do again?" and receive annoyed stares from the people around you. For the rest of us, there is this funny post...

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POMS POMS AND CIRCUMSTANCE

Football season always brings up repressed emotions for me. When I was a college cheerleader, standing eight feet in the air on my partner’s tiny man hands, I didn’t have time to ponder the intricacies of the game of football. I was too concerned with balancing, being full of teen spirit, and tampon string visibility. I didn’t know offense from defense, even though the raspy chants could convince you otherwise. I was shouting, “BLOCK ‘EM! BLOCK ‘EM!” but under my tight blond ponytail all I knew was that “block ‘em” rhymed with “sock ‘em”, which rhymed with “rock ‘em” , which then made me think of Rock’em Sock’em Robots.

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The cheerleader mind is complicated folks. Two bits, four bits, six bits a WTF?

Football rules, regulations, and statistics just didn’t seem important enough to learn when there were other things to worry about. Things such as Level 5 Pom Pom failure, Bloomer Bacteriosis, and Pyramid Schemes.

 

When I first met my husband, he was all puffed up about watching football WITH me, his new girlfriend, a.k.a. a cheerleader (score!). Finally, a woman that understands the game. After a few months, I had to break it to him gently that all I knew about the game was that it involved men and balls.

 

I should know the game. I should care about football. I was a CHEERLEADER for goodness sakes. My uniform was tight and had words on it. I AM FOOTBALL. So why didn’t I know what I was cheering for? And is that a deeper question about life? Repressed, I’ll tell you. Repressed.

 

To cope with my repressed state of being, I’ve rewritten the rules, changed the terminology and came up with my own football logic.
 

Football Defined by Me:

Coach – the first store we visit at the outlet mall

Bounty Scandal – when I send my husband to the grocery store and he buys the generic brand of paper towels

Referee – My son + my daughter = Me

Unneccessary roughness – the bottom of my feet, right now, and in the dead of winter

Tight end – dreaming of how my backside looked at age 22

Special Teams – my hairdresser, my manicurist, my dermatologist, my gynecologist , and my psychiatrist

Offsides – I say this when looking at my birthing hips in front of a mirror, “what are these things coming off my sides?!”

Illegal formation – when my husband loads the dishwasher

Pre-season – sprinkling Tony Chachere’s Cajun spice blend on chicken breasts before baking

Pig skin – definitely allowed on the Atkins Diet

Two minute warning – precise time when popcorn burns in a 1500 watt microwave oven

Rushing – duh! I’m a mom

Intentional grounding – future discipline plan when my daughter becomes a teenager

Two Point Conversion – convincing myself that fudge brownie ice cream is only 2 points on Weight Watchers

Gridiron – multi-tasking between making waffles and pressing a pair of pants

Facemask – I’m supposed to apply this BEFORE the exfoliating eye cream

Linebacker – I’m a physical therapist and I do this every day. Putting people’s backs in line again. (My daughter wrote this one)

Hail Mary – full of grace, hallowed be thy name.

Sidelines – my crow’s feet and smile lines

Defensive strategy – how I prepare for when my mother-in-law visits

Quarterback – what I get in return when I give my kids 20 bucks for the movies.

Rose Bowl – a nice potpourri accessory my Nana gave me

Punt - has the word "pun" in it so I like it.

Pass Interruption - any time I have to hold in gas for longer than an hour (elevators, busy aisle at Target, class reunion)

Completion – what NEVER happens in the laundry room

Warning: terrible puns ahead

Well, my goal was to settle the score before I spiraled out of control. I sure hope this is well received. I feel good having shined light on the dark cornerbacks of my mind. Guess you can say I’ve come to terms with football. And it didn’t Costas a dime.

 

 

 

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And now...

 

 You know what to do here. It's just like voicemail. I'm writing this and you aren't reading it just like you never really listen to the voicemail instructions. I don't listen to them either. (I wasn't trying to call you out so quit it with the gang signs.) Just to test out my theory, if you are reading this right now, put the sentence "Mary Poppins is too legit to quit" in the comments section. Hey! Hey!

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