We have overheard interesting conversations between soccer players. We've eavesdropped on the boys of summer and spied on those rugged gridiron fellas. What's left? Rugby? Shut up. That's not even a real sport. Stop making stuff up!
No one really knows the rules of rugby. It seems to be played by sweaty men who are all grumpy because they came dressed to play soccer only to discover that the ball is lopsided and won't roll. For those of you into football, the rules are exactly the same. Except:
1) No padding or helmets
2) No pausing for tea and crumpets just because someone gets tackled. Boo-friggin-hoo.
3) Kick and toss the ball anytime you want. Just don't toss it forward or kick it backward.
4) Concussions are fun; teeth are temporary
5) At any random moment (and solely at the referee's whim) the players may be forced to "scrum" which is basically a dry hump daisy chain wherein they grab each other's crotches and turn the player in the middle into a "hooker" (an activity which, in the states, is a misdemeanor and typically results in mass arrests).
The whole spectacle would be a great deal less confusing if the players could decide whether they wanted to play soccer, football or a scene from a gay porno about a mud orgy. But COWA is nothing if not educational, so we've dispatched our ruthless band of covert ninjas to eavesdrop on various illuminating conversations from the pitch.
Again, you're welcome.
Player 1: So I says to him, I says "anyone who thinks Ida Lupino is fiercer than Bette Davis is a Philistine!"
Player 2: You go, girl!
Player 3: Excuse me, but...
Player 1: And he goes "Who cares what you think? Your mother shops at Sears!"
Player 2: Oh no, he di-int!
Player 3: Sorry to interrupt but...
Player 1: So I shrieked and told him to take it back or I'll tell everyone he stuffs his calvins!
Player 3: I really have to insist you release my testicles.
Player 1: Queen, please. This is rugby.
Player 3: Actually, this is Pugsley contingent of the Aadams Family convention.
Player 1: Oops.
Player 2: Explains the striped shirts. Sorry mack.
Player 4: Not at all. I love your bald head. It's very Uncle Fester.
Player 2: Thanks. Care to grab a frozen yogurt?
Player 4: With or without the nuts?
Player 1: Bun check!
Player 2: I'm not talking to you.
Player 1: What's wrong now?
Player 2: Last night at Lance's Golden Globes party you loudly ridiculed my Crepe Suzette.
Player 1: No, I didn't. All I said was that your crepes give me the trots.
Player 2: You called them Craps Oozette. You laughed at my expense. Leave me alone.
Player 1: Aw, who's my widdle pookie-monster?
Player 2: At couples counseling you agreed to stop belittling me in public.
Player 1: I only said that so we could be home in time for Project Runway.
Player 2: I need some time apart. I need to find out who "me" is.
Player 1: Okay, if that's how you feel.
Player 2: I need some space.
Player 1: Fine.
Player 2: Ahem.
Player 1: What?
Player 2: You can start by taking your thumb out of my poo hole.
Player 1: Excuse me, but may I cut in?
Player 2: Um, I don't THINK so!
Player 3: Dude, we're competing in the foxtrot championship.
Player 1: You haven't been foxtrotted til I've foxtrotted you.
Player 4: Excuse me, but may I cut in?
Player 1: I'm already cutting in.
Player 2: This is ridiculous.
Player 3: Hello!!? We're foxtrotting here!
Player 4: I'll foxtrot you til your eyes roll back in your head.
Player 1: I'll foxtrot you til your toes curl.
Player 4: I'll foxtrot you to the middle of next week.
Player 2: This is just silly. Four people can't foxtrot!
Player 4: We can try.
Player 1: Okay...
Player 3: Everybody foxtrot!
Player 2: But who's leading?
Player 4: I'll lead.
Player 3: You can't lead, you're too easily distracted.
Player 4: Dwayne Johnson is so dreamy. I like chocolate.
Player 2: Have you been eating poop?
Player 4: Huh?
Player 3: He's right, dude. Take a tic-tac or a certs or something. Jeez.
Player 1: Are we foxtrotting or what?
Player 2: Say, this isn't so hard!
Player 3: Okay...everybody DIP!
Player 1: See?
Player 2: You're right! His sphincter does look like Betty White!
Player 3: Shut up, my sphincter doesn't look like Betty White.
Player 4: But does his sphincter look like "Sue-Anne Nivens" Betty White or "Rose Nyland" Betty White?
Player 2: Excuse me, I think we've forgotten why we're here.
Player 1: Oh. Right. Do you see it?
Player 2: I don't see your cell phone. I see an iPod and a hamster cage and the Melrose Place season three DVD set, but negative on the phone, dude.
Player 1:That's bullsh*t. I saw him stick my phone up his shame zone.
Player 3: Shut up, I didn't put your phone up my butt.
Player 4: Call your number and see if his ass starts to ring.
Player 1: Great idea! Let me borrow your phone.
Player 4: My phone doesn't text.
Player 1: I don't need to text his rectum, I need to phone it!
Player 4: Okay, here.
Player 1: Damn!
Player 2: What's wrong?
Player 1: I think I left it on vibrate.
Player 4: Call it anyway and see if Betty White starts to smile.
Player 3: If you put your ear to my ass, Betty might give you the Password.
If you don't subscribe to COWA, we'll tell everyone that you shop at Sears.