Sadness overwhelms me like the stench of rats and sewage in an immigrant tunnel into America. Your loss is now mi loss.
First, mi apologies. I did not know that I am supposed to review the game even when Florida loses? That’s ridiculous. After I lose a match, which happens less than snow days in Zacatecas, all I normally do is mope around drinking tequila sunrises by the pool with reruns of George Lopez on. I don’t care what any network big wigs say, I think that dude is one freakin’ funny chicano.
But since the hombres here at the Safe Room have asked me to come around every game, I’ll abide by their conditions.
All I have to say is this…Basura!
Basura! Garbage! Trash! That was all that I saw of the Gators in the first half of their bout with las Tigres. And the second half was better than the first half's sloppy play, but there was too much sloppy play in the first half to overcome in the second half. HAHA, I make the best redundant, run-on sentences that are redundant. NO, SCREW YOU JOHNNY GRAMMAR POLICE! English is my third language behind espanol and sanscrit.
Two things visibly shake the Caiman, craptacular halves of football by the Gators and giant robot scorpions.
I hear that Florida’s offensive play-caller had an emergency appendectomy less than 24 hours before the game. He must have been woozy from the all the drugs to run Luchador Tebow into the middle of a strong defensive line over, and over, and over, and over. And then again. Do you see what I did there to drill home my point. Es for effect. EFFECT!
Senor Dan Mullen should have approached the Caiman for his operation. I keep a healthy stash of generic Percocet and Vicodin for my uh, uh, old knee injury, and I would have been happy to perform the operation. I bet you won’t bet me that I would have only needed a fish hook, an iron, a pair of sheep sheers, a katana (which are hard to come by in Mexico) and an ice cream scoop. BET ME YOU FOOLS!
Unbeknownst to many of my fans, the Caiman received his MD from the Universidad of Arequipa Online. It took only 9 weeks and only one trip to Peru for a final exam.
So my segundo trip to Gainesville was not a success like the first. Every time zone defense make me angry, pretty ladies make me happy. Every time Gator offense stall and I get ready to rage, but alcohol brings me back down to chill town. Everytime the Gators give away points, the Caiman steals cups from kids. Ah, the checks and balances of la vida.
Me, the Gator Head Funnel, and some guy who loves to party like every breath is his last. And I don't mean like, oh I just had a breath so obviously it was the last on I just had. I mean like really crazy oh damn, you about to die sucka, funnel that beer down like a champ and rock all the way into the afterlife cause you ain't breathin' no more after this!!
I’m actually still drunk. Currently, I’m in the 109th hour of a pretty impressive binger. Aren’t you impressed with my typing ability? Si, I rocked out the Mavis Bacon.
And right here, right now, I vow to keep drinking until the Gators of Florida decide to beat a Tiger team this season. And they better not make it Clemson in the Music City Bowl, mainly because I really hate Nashville. The folks up there understand wearing bedsheets with eyes cut out over their heads, but do not understand the class and prominence that go along with a luchador mask. Aye aye aye.
The Caiman loves being in pictures with pretty ladies funneling beers, even if he has to sneak in at the last second. HAHA, I AM NOW IN YOUR PHOTO, PUT ME ON MYSPACE WITH YOUR PHOTOS OF FAMOUS PEOPLE AND SHIT LIKE THAT!!
That's all for this week. If I type anymore, my buzz will start to wear off and I will have to kill someone or this computer, but preferably someone. MAYBE YOU!!! Oh, I'm also too busy setting up an offshore account for a certain state attorney so he will write of a certain situation as a case of letting boys be boys.
~~CAIMAN DEL PANTANO