I lost my fantasy football league and now I have to spend an entire Sunday with my wife and children as punishment

Please help me make it through.

What do you even do with a family for a whole entire Sunday.

witda1stpck: Hello Fantasy Football Fellas Forum, long time lurker, first time poster here. I’m going to need your help and advice on something. I came in last place in my league (12-team, snake draft, PPR) last year and have to face the punishment. My league mates voted that I have to spend opening Sunday with my wife and children instead of at our Annual Kickoff Launch Party Blast. Not only am I bummed about missing out on the party, but I am lost. I’m not sure how I should spend a whole Football Sunday with my family. Can you please give me any advice you might have?

MrCommish (Admin): Can you take your wife and children to the Annual Kickoff Launch Party Blast?

witda1stpck: Sorry, I should have specified. I am not allowed to take them to the Annual Kickoff Launch Party Blast. The League has a very strict “no wives and children allowed” rule.

MrCommish (Admin): Can you watch the games at home with your wife and children?

witda1stpck: Sorry again. I’m not even allowed to watch any of the games, that’s part of my punishment.

MrCommish (Admin): Can you watch the NFL RedZone channel at home with your wife and children?

witda1stpck: Wow, I really feel like a dunce here. I’m not allowed to go to the Annual Kickoff Launch Party Blast, watch any of the games, or RedZone, or any pre/post game shows, or listen on the radio, or watch highlights on TV or social media, or follow along on any website that gives you text updates after every play, or drive to a stadium parking lot and listen to the roar of the stadium and use my imagination to picture what might have happened based on the sound the home crowd made. I basically have to live in a football black hole. I can catch up on scores, highlights, and even watch full game replays starting at 12:01 AM Tuesday.

MrCommish (Admin): Sorry, then. Got nothing for you. Godspeed.

gobirdsLIX: Can we have more context about your wife and children? Do they like football?

witda1stpck: I have two daughters, ages two and four. I’ve never asked them if they like football because they are girls. Should I ask them if they like football? My wife is an adult human woman, and the most words she’s said about football at one time are “it’s on Thursdays now, too?” But how they feel about football is kind of irrelevant, because of the football black hole I previously mentioned. What else can I do on Sunday? I know that I can’t go to Chick-fil-A.

gobirdsLIX: Congrats, GirlDad!

CeeDeezNuts123: Girldadding to the max!

LamarGoFar: Fellow GRLDAD stand up!

MrCommish (Admin): Came back to say way to go, Mr. Girldad! Dad those Girls as dad as you can dad.

witda1stpck:: Thanks, everybody. I’m a proud Girldad for sure. Little girls are miracles. I just don’t know what to do with them for an entire Sunday. And also my wife.

CeeDeezNuts321: I’m sorry, but I just can’t help somebody who still does a Snake Draft. Snake Drafts are for children and idiots. Do an Auction Draft like a man or GTFO.

gobirdsLIX: That’s not very helpful. Let’s try to lift our bro up.

CeeDeezNuts321: Okay, fine. What do you do with them on other days?

witda1stpck: I’m at work other days. I don’t know what they do. Should I ask my wife and them what they do most days while I’m at work? Should I already know that?

CeeDeezNuts123: @CeeDeezNuts321 nice handle, BTW

CeeDeezNuts321: TY. Great minds.

CeeDeezNuts123: Sorry, you didn’t pick up on my sarcasm. OBV you stole my name.

CeeDeezNuts321: You wish. I didn’t steal shit. It was right there.

CeeDeezNuts123: Yeah, right there in my name. For you to steal.

gobirdsLIX: Guys, guys. Let’s calm down and get back to the point. Plus…Dallas Sucks.

MrCommish (Admin): @gobirdsLIX I have to issue you a warning. Please refer to the forum rules for more information on banned phrases, which includes “Dallas Sucks.”

gobirdsLIX: I’m sorry.

MrCommish (Admin): Thank you.

gobirdsLIX: Dallas Sux.

witda1stpck: nevermind. I obviously wasn’t going to get any help here so I asked ChatGPT what I should do with my wife and daughters for a full Sunday and got my answer there.

LamarGoFar: What did ChatGPT say?

witda1stpck: To take them to the movies.

LamarGoFar: Nice. What are you seeing?

witda1stpck: They’re showing a replay of last year’s Super Bowl. Loophole!

gobirdsLIX: Go Birds! Dallas LIX (balls).

Sign up for my mailing list to get weekly emails with new comedy content, updates, and more!

Support my comedy and get members-only exclusive content here on my website, or with a paid subscription through Substack or Patreon. You can also send a one-time tip through Venmo.

Share This Post

If my English teacher married my gym teacher...

Some real small-town shit

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged…

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged (to be married)! They announced their big news via Taylor’s Instagram, where she captioned the series of adorable photos with the cheeky “your English teacher and your gym teacher are getting married”. This made me wonder what would happen if such an engagement were to occur in my small-ass hometown.

Here are some jokes about that…

• Their $80,000 combined household income would make them the third-wealthiest family in town, behind the two families who inherited all the land where the coal was

• They could knock down the wall that separates their rowhomes (they are neighbors) to have the biggest house in town!

• The ring was their second-grade teacher’s (also, her grandmother, also also, a lady who paid him $3 to shovel the snow from her driveway)

• It totally would be front-page news, except there’s a conflict of interest (she is the paper’s editor-in-chief)

• The mother of the bride and the mother of the groom would have to finally settle their blood feud that started when one of them hung a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign on their porch just a few days after the other did the same

• We’d hold our breath to find out if the ceremony would be at Peter & Paul Catholic Church, Divine Redeemer Catholic Church, or Saint Michael Catholic Church (all of them are on the same block)

• The Bachelor party would be Tuesday night all-you-can-eat wings at 901 Pub, followed by drinking “out the bush” (which means in the forest, for those not in the know)

• The Bachelorette party would be a paint and sip wine event hosted by the Art Teacher in the English Teacher’s backyard because there’s not actually a Paint and Sip in town, they just read about the idea of them online, and it seemed like a fun thing to do

• The ring bearer is a six-year-old boy who can’t be trusted with the rings because he already has CTE from football-related head injuries

• There are like seven flower girls because if she just has one, all of her other friends with daughters would hate her for all time, but never actually say they are mad at her to her face, the resentment would just fester forever unsaid

• The Best Man would be the Head Coach of the High School Football Team, and the Maid of Honor would be the school Choir Director - they’d hook up after the reception, it’d end badly, and the spring concert would feature an original arrangement of Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know"

• They’d remove “to obey” from the wedding vows, but as a compromise, they’d add in something like “even during the playoffs”

• The reception would be a potluck, and everybody would bring pierogies

• The School Principal would catch the bouquet and make it all awkward because everybody’d be like “isn’t she actively going through a divorce?” and she’d be like “so what, I’m single in my heart” and her soon-to-be-ex-husband is also at the wedding but then he leaves and it’s clear he’s very sad and then there’d be this thing hanging in the air for the rest of the night that nobody really talks about but everybody can feel

• My history teacher would be pissed (he was actually married to my English teacher)

• That’s gross, they are brother and sister!

---

Sign up for my mailing list to get weekly emails with new comedy content, updates, and more!

Support my comedy and get members-only exclusive content here on my website, or with a paid subscription through Substack or Patreon. You can also send a one-time tip through Venmo.

Share This Post!

The Little League team sponsor is going to pull the plug if you kids can't get your act together

You're not the rag tag group of so-and-so's he thought you were.

I don’t care if I never get back…

Alright, kids, it’s time to cut the shit. No, I’m not your new coach, I’m Mr. Pederson. Pete Pederson. From Pederson’s Pizza. Good Christ, I’m your team sponsor. The guy who put the uniforms on your backs and the post-game pizza in your ungrateful little tummies.

The time has come to wean you off the pizza teat. That’s right, no more freebies after losses. It’s about time you start earning your slices by putting some ticks in the ol’ wins column. I can’t have the “Pederson’s Pizza” name next to a goose egg in the standings in the town rags any longer. I’m a laughingstock at the local kid’s sports sponsors’ dinners. They told me I’d be better off putting my money into sponsoring the 3 AM shift at the 24-hour dance-a-thon for the general concept of hope, or adopting an abandoned highway than continuing to back you losers. If you think that hurts to hear, how do you think I feel? It’s my name on those uniforms.

Frankly, after all I’ve done for you, I feel a bit disrespected. Before I came along, you didn’t even have uniforms or proper equipment. You were wearing mismatched sweatpants and old, dirty t-shirts. Your catcher was using old couch cushion you found on the side of the road as a chest protector and a copper pot as a helmet! You didn’t even look like a ballclub. You looked like a bunch of idiots.

Before you became the Pederson’s Pizza Pirates, you didn’t even have a team name! You were officially known as “Region Three,” but you had an unofficial nickname with the other teams around the league. Do you know what that nickname was?

That’s right. They called you the Fuck Bums. Would you like to go back to being Fuck Bums or continue to be Pirates?

That’s what I thought.

I’m looking around, and I see potential here. I see you - a kid with glasses - clearly you’re a nerd who can formulate some sort of strategic, outside-the-box way to manufacture runs. No? You’re just nearsighted. Okay, how about you - tubby catcher - you must be the team’s comedic relief. Can you come up with some pranks to pull on the other team to distract them from the task at hand, helping to lead your team to victory? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that pranks were “the lowest form of comedy.” What about you - the kid who looks like he’s way too old to be on this team. Yes, you. Obviously you. You’re six-foot-two with a mustache. Please tell me you’re a bad-boy twelve-year-old the locals tell tall tales about, who signed up for the team just to clear his name and prove that he’s not as bad as he seems by leading the way to victory with your amazing talents and surprising leadership? Hold on, you’re actually a 19-year-old babyfaced creep? Somebody call the cops.

Now, all the blame doesn’t fall on you kids. I have to point a finger at your coach as well. A man who is coaching your team as community service because he crashed his potato chip delivery truck while he was high on Robitussin. He was driving a potato chip delivery truck while he was high on Robitussin because a career-ending injury ruined his shot at The Big Leagues. Clearly, he hasn’t yet rediscovered his love of the game by seeing it through the eyes of babes. He’s gotta find his inner whimsy so he can start doing a better job preparing you for victory. What would you kids say is the greatest lesson he’s taught you so far?

What would you say is the second greatest lesson after “don’t drive a potato chip delivery truck while high on Robitussin”?

“Keep your eye on the ball?” That’s some real first-level amateur bullshit. To be honest, it’s the kind of thing I’d expect from a bunch of Fuck Bums, and I thought you said you didn’t want to be Fuck Bums.

Hey, wait, stop that. Stop chanting “Fuck Bums.” You don’t want to be Fuck Bums. Being a Fuck Bum is a bad thing. No, you can’t just own it! You can’t reclaim it as a positive thing! Bonding and becoming friends is not the most important thing! Winning is the most important thing! Bringing glory to the name of Pederson’s Pizza through Little League Baseball victory is the only thing that matters.

Stop that! Stop hitting me with baseball bats! It’s not even hurting all that much; that’s how bad you are at swinging baseball bats! I paid for those bats, you can’t just hit me weakly with them!

I’m going to leave now, but it’s not because this hurts. The getting hit with bats thing, I mean. You hitting me with bats doesn’t hurt as much as the fact that I’m sponsoring a bunch of kids who can’t even hurt a guy by pummelling him repeatedly with metal bats. Maybe you should think about that some before your next game.

---

Sign up for my mailing list to get weekly emails with new comedy content, updates, and more!

Support my comedy and get members-only exclusive content here on my website, or with a paid subscription through Substack or Patreon. You can also send a one-time tip through Venmo.