Daisy Does the 49ers: Niners Trounce Jaguars
Jacksonville Jaguars quarterback David Garrard (9) is sacked by San Francisco 49ers defensive end Justin Smith (94) in the fourth quarter of an NFL football game, in San Francisco, Sunday, Nov. 29, 2009. SanFrancisco 49ers defeated the Jacksonville Jaguars 20-3. (AP Photo/Paul Sakuma)
There’s nothing like 49ers football to make a girl seem like a complete schizophrenic. Every time we win, I get all giddy and say we’re going to the playoffs, and every time we lose, I get depressed and say we suck and have no chance in hell of making it anywhere further than the bar down the street. We win and I’m the happiest girl in SF; we lose and I start planning ways to fling myself off the Golden Gate Bridge. Basically, I’m a prime candidate for an abusive relationship. The Niners threw me down the stairs last week with that lost against Green Bay, but all they had to do was apologize and tell me how much they love me and that it will never happen again (via yesterday’s win against the Jaguars), and now I’m lying to my family and claiming I got these broken ribs and black eye playing baseball. Which is really the worst lie ever because everyone knows I only play sports that revolve around drinking. You know, like beer pong, bowling and getting out of bed in the morning.
But regardless of how abusive my relationship with the 49ers may be, I’m in it for the long haul. Which means that it is my duty to, once again, inform you that despite anything I may have said in previous posts, the 49ers actually have a shot at making the playoffs this year. At 5-6, San Francisco is two games behind Arizona in the NFC West. What does this mean, you ask? Well, in the short term, we need Arizona to lose to Minnesota and the 49ers to beat Seattle on the road. (Yes, that means it’s your duty to root for Brett Favre next Sunday despite the fact that he is more repugnant than that desperate middle-aged man with Axe body spray oozing out of his pores who keeps trying to buy you well vodka drinks at the bar.) If those two things happen, then the 49ers and the Cardinals will be meet on December 14th for a dramatic Monday Night showdown that could determine who wins the division title. Yup, that’s right. We’re back in the hunt.
But enough about football… let’s get to what really matters: Me.
I took my friend, Jimmy, to the game. My favorite thing to tell people when I introduce them to Jimmy is that I’ve known him for over 21 years. This means Jimmy and I were friends when I had little round glasses, shiny silver braces, orange hydrogen peroxide hair and was a good two years away from even thinking about my first training bra. And yet Jimmy was my friend anyway. That’s why I’ve kept him around all this time. I mean if a guy’s willing to be friends with you when all your friends have boobs and you’re still secretly playing with your Barbie make-up head? That’s how you know he really likes you for your personality.
The thing about Jimmy though is that he likes to do things his way. Which meant that not only did he insist on driving to the game (I favor the bus), he also told me when we were halfway to the stadium that we were making a detour to pick up his friend, Mo.
Mo hopped in the backseat and did what any guy in his situation would do: he promptly lit up a blunt. Then I did what any girl in my situation would do and pulled a total prissy white chick move by covering my nose and rolling down my window. It’s not that I’m opposed to Mo or his partaking of The Marijuana. It’s just that I smoked The Pot one time before a 49ers’ playoff game in 1996… When someone brought the game up to me a few months later, I denied having been there… not because I’m a pathological liar, but because I had zero memory of it. Everyone who knows me knows that I prefer my blackouts to come gradually and from alcohol, so ever since that day, I’ve passed on The Grass at football games.
The Blunt aside, Mo was a welcome addition to the car ride. When I asked him whom he was going to the game with and he told me, "I was supposed to go with my dad, but then his baby mama showed up and dropped their kid off with no warning." My response? "Wow, Mo. That is the first time I’ve ever heard anyone use the phrase ‘baby mama’ without any irony!” 
(And it was, but I sure hope it’s not the last.)
Mo was also amazing in that he helped me realize that everyone should have a “homeless contingency plan.” I’d always thought if I were ever down and out, I’d just hit my mother up for cash, but Mo was kind enough to say that we could go in on his homeless contingency plan together. I don’t want to give away all of the details, but let’s just say it has something to do with robbing the guys who take the $30 PER CAR parking lot money. You do the math. (I can’t. Because I’m a girl and I’m not very smart.)
Other than Mo though, I don’t have too much to report from the game. I guess it’s easier to play well with others when you’re winning the whole time and surrounded by French people who seem more into taking photographs of each other than following what’s happening on the field. I only yelled at one group of people and that was a bunch of (alleged) Niners’ fans who left at the beginning of the 4th quarter. I mean, seriously people… There are only eight home games the entire season. You wait all week to see a potential win and then when we finally are winning, you leave? To what… beat traffic? What on earth could be more important than cheering your team on until the end? Don’t want to miss that all-new Family Guy? Need to lay out your outfit for tomorrow? Want to get home to the wife and kids? Just stay for a few more minutes. I mean, seriously, people: What is better than winning a football game? (That’s a rhetorical question that I also asked on Twitter yesterday. The answers ranged from: “Surfing” to “A girl blowing you while you watch football. And doing a really great job at it.”)
And on that note… Happy Monday!
Next Week: San Francisco over SEATTLE