Great. You brought a football to the tailgate. I might throw it around with you. A few times. Maybe. But I'm here to have some drinks and load up on food and hang out with people. That's really the entirety of my plans. I didn't bring my cleats. You see, I came here to watch football. Not play football. Okay? Cool.
Hey, relax with the football, guy! No, I will not play two-hand touch. No, I will definitely not go long. Under any circumstances. If you wanted to play football today, you should have made the team.
Go away, you drunk moron.
Your chili is not famous. It's just not. So stop saying that it is. See everyone here? They all know you. They all enjoy your chili. At least most of them do. Now, see the people one spot over at the other tailgate? I just asked them and they have never heard of you. More importantly, they have never heard of your chili. So there you have it: your chili is not famous.
And, really, it's not that hard to make good chili. You mix a bunch of stuff together. Then you make sure it's spicy. Boom. Good chili. You should really try to find something else in your life to be proud about. Everyone kind of pities you.
Every tailgate has a Kevin. He's annoying. Whoever is responsible for inviting him all the time, please don't do it again.
We all like football or we probably wouldn't be here. But this is not the set of Edge NFL Match-Up. I don't know if Right Trap 38 Hitch-Over Falcon or whatever it was you just said is the key to solving Alabama's defense in the red zone. Nor do I really care.
Hey, look! The burgers are ready.
They will ask you want you want on it. But it's just to be polite. And to be polite back, you should say: "I don't care. Whatever." This is not a gourmet restaurant. Someone just made you free food. Don't be picky. Just eat it.
Look, I get the awkward psychology of it. It's like guys are somehow attracted to the football players they root for and want to have sex with them. I don't know. Sure. Maybe. Whatever. You look hot.
So put on that football jersey and we'll drink until we don't care about the awkward psychology of it.
That's what she said. (Come on, that's funny at a tailgate after four beers.) What I mean is, basically this: I'm not following your stupid rule and writing my name on my red cup. If I lose my red cup when I get there, I will just grab another new one out of the bag. If this ruins you financially, here is a dollar. But put that Sharpie away. Save the ink for writing messages on people when they pass out.
It's okay to bring along your kids or your little brother or sister. But understand that they're going to be spending the day around a bunch of adults, most of whom will be drunk. These people will not self-edit. And junior is going to see and hear everything. Chances are on Monday he comes home from school with detention for telling his teacher in belch-talk that he wants to "hook up."
You're supposed to talk to the people at the tailgate when you're at a tailgate. So get off the phone. Stop texting. Stop doing whatever it is that you're doing on your phone.
Whoa! You have an iPhone app that can get live scoring updates with video from every game in the country? Okay, *you* can keep your cellphone.