I was there, compliments of my friend and loyal OSU alum, Christy who was kind enough to take me to her cushion-y amazing seats at the OSU/PENN State game. I was about 65 feet from Lebron on the sidelines and got peaks of Tressel working his magic.

There are certain rules I abide by at big games and the guy behind me broke #2:
Thou shall not annoy another fans who are trying to enjoy the sporting event in an energized and civilized manner.

If you’re going to be cursing up a storm, I’d rather you just blow f-bombs into the water instead of using the name of the person who, I happen to believe, is the savior of our planet.

STOP YELLING JESUS CHRIST INTO MY EAR CANALS followed by an expletive of how Tressel needs to move the safeties up. I know Maurice Wells has butter fingers, but STOP YELLING JESUS CHRIST at the top of your lungs. Not only does it massively annoy me, but I’m at the borderline of turning around and saying something along the lines of, “Shut up. Just shut up. You. Are. A. Disgrace.” But, Christy shook her head at me. So I bit my tongue and just yelled all the louder, “COME ON D, HOLD THEM!” along with the thunderous Ohio stadium.

I’m not an uptight person, but put the Jesus Christ AK47 away because it grates just a weetzy bit too much on my ears. Say hell, shit, or damn as much as you want. Go CRAZY with the f-bomb. Even an occasional g-damn is better than a 2 hour yelling spree of about JC.

The first OSU game I went to was against Texas a few years ago. They lost. I feel like I might be a curse to big OSU games. I very well may just stay at home in the name of my fanhood.

Nick was at a dinner party (oh la la, we’re moving up in the world) with coworkers, their significant others, his boss and pastor, and a lovely couple hosting them for dinner, where he confessed to me later he was surreptitiously watching the game. His cover was blown when he peaked and saw Pryor fumble the ohsoimportant ball that spurred Nick’s rare outbursts, “Are you freaking kidding me?”

He then apologized for his outburst that interrupted the conversation.

When I thought of the potty mouth sitting behind me and the string of Jesus Christs he hurled out onto the field, it only made me love the “Are you freaking kidding me,” all the more.

Nick if far too easy to fall in love with.