Todd's Thursday Embarrassing Admission...

Oh so much.

Is this the only picture you could find? We want to see one where you’re completely in frame and looking at the camera.

I bet the dress looks super cute on you, though.

I bet your Dad was facepalming the whole time….

between the pigs feet (particularly the juice drinking) and this, if things don’t go bama’s way tonight it damn sure ain’t todd’s fault.

[begins slow clap]

…your sparkly vest wasn’t pink.

what a cute little dancer. All sparkly!

Well done.

I’ll bet you still know the moves.

I suggest that you guarantee victory by video recording a quick reciting of your tap dance routine and posting it on the blog this afternoon.

If you do that and we still lose, there was just never any hope to begin with.

That and the way the sequins catch the flash.

Advance congratulations on your certain victory tonight.

I was a swimmer as a lad. Naturally I got used to wearing the speedoes at the pool all the time, which when you think about it is only glorified underwear. One day I was at the pool, about age 11, when some punk swam up to me and asked where my bra was.

I guess that was the beginning of the end of my swim career, at least until I discovered that girls looked pretty good in wet swimsuits as I practiced next to them every day, so it had a good ending.

By the way I HIGHLY discourage any of you from doing a Google image search on “men’s unitard.” This is one of the least disturbing images.

My best friend (who was probably demon possesed) had parents who smoked. He would swipe a few smokes every now and then for us. Well one weekend night he told his parents he was staying at my house and I told mine I was staying at his. We met up at the end of the street and decided to spend the night in the woods smokeing beside a campfire. We had a neighbor who had a subscription to Playboy magazine. He kept the old issues in a box inside his garage. Knowing this, around midnight we made a stealthy run to acquire some free smut. The run was a success. We made our way back to our campsite when my demonic friend realized he had dropped our smokes during our covert endeavor. We searched for them a while with no luck. So with our pornography periodicals we loomed into the dark depths of Northwood Lakes darkest vacant lot. Sitting around our campfire we lusted for a while then, wishing upon a star for a cigarrette. Finally we came up with the fantastic idea of tearing out a centerfold and gathering up some pinestraw and various vegetation then twisting it into a Northport hootie. Yes we smoked it. Later that night we weren’t able to breath very well. My friend was suffering so bad he wanted to go home. At first I thought he had smoked out the demon from within. I called him a puss and laughed all the way home. I slept in my Dads boat because I didn’t want an ass kicking for lying regardless of whether I could breathe or not. I was woken up by the sounds of fire trucks rendering their resources in an attempt to extinguish our warm and forgotten campfire. Who knew that pinestraw couldn’t smother a campfire out. I started to realize I may be busted. But I still had a glimmer of hope. I ran to my friends house in an attempt to knock on his window and hopefuly he would let me in so my parents would think I had stayed with him. Only, when I got there his older brother was on the receiving end of my desperate taps on his window. He informed me his parents had taken my friend to the hospital with an extreme allergic reaction to something. The next day with an extremely red ass my parents informed me my friend was in the hospital due to an allergic reaction to smokeing poison oak.

Since I have told the amorous pig story twice and am out of ammo, a friend gave me one to pass on. One Saturday, he was at work and foggy memories of the night before were trying to take form in his dehydrated brain. His attempts at memory of the previous evening’s debauchery were interrupted by the demands of work and a persistently itchy moustache. Yes, you guessed it, pesky little STD-type bugs had infested his moustache. What a guy!

…in a land not too far from here, there was a teenage boy who had yet to get his freak on. He traveled to a nearby town to spend the weekend with a friend who had a date that night, and who set him up with a blind date of his own, and who arranged for the four of them to enjoy some tasty beverages at his parents’ cabin in the middle of nowhere. Several drinks later, said youth and yon tasty lass found themselves in a darkened bedroom, wrestling on a large bed, with pop tunes by The Outfield blaring from some unseen sound system. The fair maiden was good to go…but the young ‘man’ was quite inebriated, and fumbled mightily with his…equipment. After countless minutes of awkwardness, the deed was about to be did…when some a$$hole pulls up in his truck, lays on the horn, and starts yelling loudly to acquire our whereabouts. The cabin was new, and there were no doors yet on the rooms, so the two youths had to shuffle off with pants around ankles to a bathroom to hide…where the young maiden quickly got dressed, never to disrobe again that night. Utter failure at hand, our young man had no recourse but to hang his head in shame…as his older counterpart does now as he types these last lines. Here endeth my offering. RTR.

When I was living in NJ in 1993, I was at a bar and met this hot chick who was a flight attendant. Big boobs, long black hair, skinny waist and very well dressed. Well, one thing lead to another and we ended up in a hotel and we didn’t get any sleep! That was as far as it went and I never saw her again. Just last year, I walking through the Atlanta airport and saw one of her friends that she was hanging with at the bar that night. Got to talking to her and she asked a question. “Did you hook up with Kelly that night?” I said, “oh yeah, it was an awesome night!”

Shes busts out laughing at me as I stood there with a puzzled look on my face.

She says to me, “You know she used to be a man, right?”

What was it like? No obvious differences? Now that you reflect back—anything that didn’t add up? Like burping for fun or laughing after farting or any of those guy things at all? Scratching where ladies don’t? Anything?

Once while in rehab my group of insubordinate outcast wen’t to Nocalula (sp?) falls. There we found a petting zoo containing these deer. Well, these deer licked our fingers nonstop. They couldn’t get enough of it. So………..I thought why stop with fingers. NOTE recovering alcoholics will do anything to win a dare. A friendly wager turned into the funniest oral sex I’ve evah seen. But your pseudo woman love is the funniest I’ve evah heard. And the grossest!!!11

Too Much Alcohol!

…but if it will help, before starting grad school classes at UA I had to get a tuberculosis test at the Tuscaloosa Co. Health Department (the one off Bryant Dr., by the law school). Despite having tattoos I have a dreaded fear of needles and having blood drawn, and a tendency to feel faint, if not pass out. I know, I know, it’s just a “skin” test, which is why I thought I’d be okay…and why I didn’t go to the bathroom before the test. You guessed it…they started the test, and after feeling the needle prick me over and over again, I passed out. When I awoke on the floor, I felt warm and damp…down there. When I passed out I guess EVERYTHING in me relaxed…including my bladder. I peed myself. I burst into tears and called my husband to bring me fresh pairs of panties and jeans. I was SO embarrased and never told anyone else til now.

Sorry, this was first posted in the gameday thread by mistake.

Ok, as has been stated, it’s all starting to feel real now. I just read an article about the Bear, and now the nerves are starting to kick in. For no apparent reason, I wanted to give the game day ritual I have had on every Bama game this season (including FUI, North Texas, UT-Chatt). Sorry this is so long.

One hour before kick-off, the alarm on my cell phone goes off with the ringtone for "Yea Alabama" (my wife really loves this ringtone /sarc). My Alabama T-shirt and cap go on at this time, followed by going outside to the front of my house and making sure my Crimson Tide flag isn’t tangled up or anything. Ever since the cold weather started here in Maryland, I also put on my Crimson Tide hoodie.

After this, I get in my SUV with a Tide sticker on the back, and I go to Giant grocery store and buy a box of Oatmeal Creme Pies. I’ll eat two of them during the game, and anyone who knows Nick Saban will understand why I eat two of them.

After that, I go to a restaurant called Salsarita’s and order the same thing…..large grilled steak quesadilla with lettuce and cheese only, queso and chips with an extra queso, small tub of regular sour cream, and a large root beer fountain drink.

This is the same thing I ordered right before the 2008 Georgia "black-out" game last year….just because I liked it, but it worked. It was 2 days after my daughter was born and my father-in-law (Ole Miss fan, but the coolest father-in-law in the world), told his wife (my mother-in-law who came up from Mississippi for the birth) that no matter what she had to do, she HAD to let me stay home and watch that game. My wife had a scheduled C-sec on that Thursday, just TWO days prior (since my son of 18 months at the time had the same) and she was laying up in a hospital bed in pain and taking care of our newborn daughter throughout the night all by herself……yet my father-in-law, with his own daughter laying in a hospital bed, understood what top priority really meant.

After I get my food, I come home, and wait…………until the foot meets the ball, then, and ONLY then, will I sit down to start eating my food. After my Salsarita’s meal is done, I’ll eat my two Oatmeal Creme Pies in honor of Nick Saban. Then I’ll put a Coors Light beer in my Alabama coozie and drink it, followed by a nice long dip of Skoal Long Cut Wintergreen (yes, I know, it’s bad). If things are looking shaky in the 2nd half, I’ll spit it out and get the 2nd beer, followed by another dip. If that doesn’t help, the dip shifts sides in my mouth. A football is in my hands after the meal at all times. And my wife loves it when I take off my armpit-soaked shirt after the game and put it in the hamper.

My wife thinks this whole ritual is pathetic. But she didn’t witness the first half of the 2008 Georgia game because she was too busy being selfish and leaving the house to stay at the hospital for our first daughter’s birth. If only she had witnessed that magnificent display by ’Bama in the first half, I have no doubt she would understand.

The only time I did NOT perform this ritual since the ‘08 Georgia game? The 2008 SEC CG because she wanted a new mini-van in New Jersey, so I didn’t get to watch but the last quarter of the game (my father-in-law bought me an XM radio just for this trip so I could listen…..told you he was cool). I wasn’t able to do this ritual……and we all remember how that game turned out.

By the way, my parents-in-law are sending her her very first Alabama T-shirt…….which she will be expected to wear tonight.

Don’t know why I wanted to ramble on and share this, I guess it just helps to calm my nerves. My wife wishes I were half as emotionally involved with her as I am with Crimson Tide football. If you’ve read nothing else of this long-winded post, let me just finish by saying, very simply…..

ROLL TIDE!!!

1.) I love Lady Gaga. Publicly I ridicule her with the best of them. Privately, I love Poker Face.
2.) I once house sat for a family that owned The Notebook, but it hadn’t even been unwrapped. I unwrapped it, watched it alone, and cried. Three times that week.
3.) I was drunk once, and dropped a pocket knife into my foot, and it stuck like a dart. It hurt like hell to put any pressure on it for days afterward. I had to lie to my girlfriend’s mom, and grandmother (a breast cancer survivor) about why I could walk with them in the Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure in Indianapolis.
4.) There are numerous existing pictures of me dressed up in my sister’s pageant dress. By my own volition. Granted I was 3, but that’s no better.
5.) I ate a can of cat food when my roommates weren’t home once. Just to see what it tasted like. I wasn’t repulsed.

I’m a 23 year old guy.

I love me some Lady Gaga, just not as much as I love Amy Winehouse.

I live with my parents.

I once drunk dialed a girl. I called her parent’s house. I left a message about how she should “bang” me. Her father was less than pleased.

I am a big fan of tranny porn.

When I was about 12 or 13 I tried sticking things in my ass.

While in basic training my flight was receiving our evening briefing from our Technical Instructor(TI, like a Drill Sergent for the Air Force). I was sitting just a couple of feet in front of Sgt. Bagdeserian. Let me set the scene, 55-60 guys sitting Indian style/criss crossed legs in a small cinder block room with a tile floor and the door closed. After about 15 minutes I realized evening chow wasn’t setting too well, if fact it was giving me a huge case of gas. I was sweating blood trying hold it in. After a few minutes I decided to ease out a Silent But Deadly to relieve some pressure. Everything worked except for the silent part. It is kind of hard to ease one out sitting Indian style. My TI yelled out, “WHO DID THAT!!!”. I raised my hand and said, “Sir Airman Etheridge reports as ordered, I did it”. After at 30-40 second profanity laden tirade I understood not to do it again. A few minutes later I couldn’t take any more of it. I let it go and it was loud and long. Bagdeserian yelled for me to put my head between my legs. After a few seconds he questioned if I was holding my breath. Well hell yes I was holding my breath. He yelled, “BREATH, EAT YOUR FART, EAT THAT FART”. While I was taking deep breaths in my self induced gas chamber everyone else was laughing their asses off.

I hope this helps turn things in our favor, but if the accidental homosexual experience didn’t do it I don’t think anything will.

Roll Tide Roll,
TideInTX

If my admission didn’t work, nothing would!

RMFT! Congrats to the team for a great season! Roll Tide forever!