It is that time of year, when the weather cools down, the leaves begin to change, and fat guys come out of the hibernation of air conditioning.  Yes, you guessed it; it’s the fall season or the fat guy’s summer.  The temperature is comfortable and a fat guy’s equilibrium centers. The end of summer means one thing: no more sweating! It is now acceptable to wear clothes on a regular basis.  The normal apparel can be either jeans and a T-shirt or shorts and hoodie. When everyone packs up their beach gear and begins to wander toward their local watering hole.  Fat Guys are getting mentally prepped for their own summer holidays: football season, tailgating, Halloween, and Thanksgiving.

Yes, that’s right the 4th of July for fat guys—tailgating. Tailgating is a glorious time when men gather in fields and lots across this great country, pop open the back hatch of the SUV blare some southern Rock, pound beers, and chow down on burgers, brats, stews and chili’s. There’s nothing like this barbaric ritual of drinking some frosty’s, chowing some grub, watching some football.

Aside from football and tailgating another can’t miss fat guy ritual is Halloween.  So you mean to tell me if I dress up you just give me candy—where do I sign-up?  I can dress up in virtually any absurd outfit or costume I want to?  Fat guys are used to wearing uncomfortable, tight fitting clothes.

Thanksgiving is the Fat Guy’s Labor Day and Christmas rolled into 1.  What a day!  Excuse me a series of days that end’s the fat guy’s summer.  Beginning with black Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving where most young people go home get obscenely drunk and go out on the town and run into every awkward person and conversation from your glory days of high school/college.  Normally goes something like this:

ME: “Hey, what’s up Pete?”
Pete: “Hi, how are you?”

ME: “I’m good!  What’s going on?”

Mistake #1: I asked a question. Then some asshole, that I was never friends with, babbles on about how great it is to sell elevator buttons in Idaho and how he has received 1 year of free potatoes for being the best salesman and how he lives on a farm with some chick and her hillbilly family.  Sweet, I proceed to walk away in mid-sentence while he’s describing his goats and cows, grab a beer and proceed to laugh at all the stupid people and stories with my friends.  Needless to say it’s a long, albeit interesting night.

The next morning is almost like Christmas morning for Fat guys.  The presents are wrapped in turkey, stuffing and gravy…..yum.  It’s a day of eating, football, sleeping, more eating, more football and sleep again.  There are leftovers for about a week, in all type of various assortments:

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My day started normal enough. It was Oct. 28th, 3 days before Halloween and a couple days after all the big Halloween parties. I woke up at 5:30am, showered, put on a #54 Brian Urlacher jersey, and met up at a friend’s house. From there we went to Soldier Field to tailgate before a Bears/Lions game. We got down there around 7:15am and immediately started drinking some beer and eating venison sausage. Goodtimes were already being had by all.

A couple hours later another friend shows up—obviously struggling from a hangover from the night before. He brought with him a plastic bag filled with the costume he wore from the past 2 party-filled evenings.

What was the costume? A Vagina! But not just any vagina…with a few clever accessories…he transformed this everyday vagina costume into a Britney Spears’ vagina costume (See: C-section scar). Of course, we made him put it on and he was happy to oblige.

For the rest of the day, Tim (let’s call him “Tim” to protect his innocence) was no ordinary football fan. He was an instant celebrity.

The group we were with could not stop laughing. Seeing this 6ft. walking vagina was hilarious. Some of the Britney Spears paraphernalia fell off, so we grabbed a marker and wrote LIONS above the “roast-beef curtains” that rested on his chest and then wrote WILLIAMS #11 on his back (Detroit’s #1 receiver) to add some flavor.

EVERYONE loved him. They all wanted their pictures taken with him. It didn’t matter who it was; men, women, children, people from all walks of life wanted to be a part of this glorious vaginal day. And they wanted to be sure to remember it with a photo.

After a couple more hours of laughing and drinking and gorging ourselves with meatball sandwiches smothered with chicken chili (Try it…trust me), we started off for the stadium. The walk took a lot longer than normal, of course, because of our pussy-fied friend. 5 steps, take a picture, 4 more steps, “HEY…IT’S VAGINA MAN!“, 7 more steps, he is offered a free beer, 3 more steps, he is offered a swig of Tequila from a group of friendly Mexicans, 10 more steps, another picture, 15 steps, a couple females let him know how disgusting he is…and then seconds later take a picture of him as they attempt to give his felt-labia a lick. 5 more steps….you get the hint. This when on throughout the entire walk to the stadium.

Of course, there were MORONS who didn’t get it…they thought he was a Lions fan. Not realizing that a real Lions fan probably would not depict his team as a bunch of pussies. They wanted to fight him or pour beer on him, until others made them realize that they are dumb and they are attempting to fight a walking axe wound. Once the tiny light bulbs turned on over their heads…they became his best friend.
As we approached the stadium we realized the security guards probably wouldn’t let him in, unless we could convince them that he was a hotdog. Good Luck! So, Tim took off the costume and nobody cared about him anymore. He was back to being your average Joe-Schmoe.

The instant we got through security, the vagina was back in action and the paparazzi were everywhere. We get to our seats, our neighboring Bears fans were in stitches. The gentleman in front of us (with his young teenage son) took a particular fondness to the Snatch Man and bought him his first of many beers…all the while trying not to let his puberty-laden son catch on to the perverted comedy that lay behind him.

The Bears ended up playing an awful game and lost to the Lions. But, we laughed til our faces hurt and our eyes were filled with tears. For a change, a vagina, made a football game enjoyable.

So what is the point of me telling you this story? Simple, it shows how easy women have it in our world. All they have to do is show their beautiful breasts or gully-holes and people flock to them, and buy them free drinks, and let them do anything they want. Even the guy who sat in front of us—after buying all those beers—told our pink-slitted friend, “Hey, if my kid wasn’t here and we were in Vegas; I’d already be IN that shit!”

So…he probably could have gotten laid too!

Amazing! Women, be thankful for what you have and how easy you have it.

It would have been a completely different day if Tim dressed up as a dick.

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