Chad Johnson is threatening to use a deer in his celebration dance if he scores a touchdown this weekend.  There's no way to tell if he's serious or not, or whether the deer in question is real or fake.  But everyone's favorite Riverdancer had this to say today:

"This is going to be the greatest celebration of all time, man," he said. "I actually use an animal."

Too many jokes.  None of them fit for print.

... really stinks when both local NFL teams stink but because of TV contractual obligations you are still forced to watch their games.  The DC NFL schedule this weekend was as follows: 1pm Colts/ Jags, 4pm:  Ravens/Broncos or Skins/ Cardinals.  I couldn't decide which would be less painful and decided to watch the rotating coverage on the NFL network instead.  We usually go over to my in-laws to watch the Steelers on Direct TV but unfortunately had other commitments this weekend, namely my husband had to be dropped at the airport at 2 and I had 15 dozen Christmas cookies to make.

The result ... I have only a few observations on this weekend's games:

Colts games are boring.  They score first and score often.  No drama involved.  Highly technically brilliant but not very passion-inspiring.  Always happy to get to see Hunter the Punter in action though. 

Manning has the most ginormous forefead I have ever seen. 

Kyle Boller is just sad.  It hurts me to watch him play.  I feel like I'm watching pee wee ball where you just pray they don't accidently score for the opposing team so you can tell them "good game" without feeling like a total liar.

Jake, you used to be so good looking dude.  Please shave.  i don't even mind the hair, just shave.

I can't even comment on the Skins, they're too painful to watch.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.  Jerry, could you really find nothing else to do with your new found time than this?  http://abc.go.com/primetime/dancing/index.html

I'd like to make a few comments about women and sports.  Football in particular.  In another post this morning, someone kindly asked women to stay out of bars during NFL games unless they arrived in jerseys and had their faces painted like maniacs.  This got me thinking. 

Maybe I'm odd, here but here's my story.  I grew up in Baltimore in a family with season tickets to the Colts.  All of my family loved the Colts.  My grandmother and my great-grandmother attended every home game.  Johnny U lived in our town and it was made very clear to me very early on in my life that he was a demi-god.  On top of that, my grandmother went to the University of Tennessee.  When the Colts left town, we turned our full attention and passion on the Vols instead of the hated Redskins in DC.  Football was religion in our house and everyone took communion.

When time came for college, I went to Notre Dame.  For all of you men out there who don't think women know/appreciate football, I direct you to find a female graduate of ND.  Life revolves around football at ND.  No surprise there.  But what is surprising is that I'm not just talking about the guys that play on Saturday.  Every dorm, male and female (yes, ND has single-sex dorms, it IS that Catholic), fields an interhall team.  The guys dorms play full pads, full tackle, no-holds barred football.  The girls dorms play a version of flag that, well let's just say its NOT no-contact.  The teams play a full fall schedule with playoffs and the championship game for both the guys and girls is played in the house that Rockne built the Sunday after the final home game.

I joined the team my freshman year, mostly because I loved football and thought it would be a good way to get to know other people in my dorm.  It was all that and so much more.  See, we had coaches.  We had a playbook borrowed from the guy's varsity team.  We had a defensive back that gobbled up passes and returned them for interceptions like Ed Reed.  We had a running back that made tacklers miss like Barry Sanders (and I'm not just being flattering because she was my roommate and is still my best friend).  We practiced four days a week and played games on Sunday.  My freshman year we lost one game on our way to the championships.  We were scored on only once on an interception returned for a touchdown.  We played our way to a 0-0 championship game in ND stadium.  We went into overtime and broke the tie with a shovel pass into the end zone.  Our captain sealed the victory with an interception. 

Along the way, we learned routes, we learned blocking schemes, we learned defensive coverages and blitz packages and stunts.  I can guarantee my college friends and I, and the hundreds of other girls who played interhall, know as much if not more than any guy who played varsity in high school.

We all still love football.  We got to bars to watch games when we're not actually at them.  But we're not there in jerseys and face paint.  We're the cute chicks in the designer jeans, t-shirts and Pumas at the table in the corner intently watching the game and dissecting the play calling on both sides of the ball and ignoring the guys in the jerseys and face paint who keep distracting US from the game.