My sister and I both think Drew Brees, QB for the New
Orleans Saints, is particularly cute.
So when I saw a picture like this on FB
I posted a comment wondering if the Island King would be
offended if this became our new comforter.
My sister commented that she’d like one too.
And that was that.
Until Thanksgiving when we were talking about trying to make
it to New Orleans
for a game and my sister said “Hey, maybe we can meet Drew Brees while we’re
there.”
This caused my BIL, the Doctor, and the Island King to
snicker and tell us they’d seen the comforter comment on FB.
Then the Doctor tells my husband that while my sister and I
are off trying to get through massive security to see Drew Brees, they can just
hit any bar on Bourbon St
and it’s guaranteed they’ll get lucky and we won’t.
The Island King thinks this is a great idea and tells us
that we can spend all night with Drew Brees – if we can find him and that he
and the Doctor will “find something to do.”
Which causes my mother to tell them that was disgusting and
that the only thing they were guaranteed to get on Bourbon St was an STD.
The Doctor told her that wasn’t a problem – he’s a doctor
and has access to treatment for whatever they might catch.
My sister and I started to contemplate the fact that they
were right. The chances of us actually getting to meet Drew Brees are pretty
slim but the chances that even the idiots we're married to could get lucky on Bourbon St were
pretty high.
Especially after the Island King proclaimed that he’s good
at telling the ones who dress like women but aren’t from the real women.
Hmm.
My Dad chimes in and asks my sister and I, “Have y’all seen
Drew Brees’s wife?”
We both agreed she’s a pretty woman but it wasn’t until the
next day that I realized that our father was insinuating that we aren’t in the
same league as his wife.
In the end we decided that we definitely want to go to a
Saints game but we are not stalking Drew Brees and we are not letting our
husbands wander Bourbon St
unchaperoned.
But…if I were to run into Drew Brees and he wanted to hang out, all bets are off
and the Island King can spend as long as he wants trying to figure out which
females on Bourbon St are actually females.
Labels: Done
