Preparing For Football Season: Saying Farewell

Well fellow Seahawk fans. We made it.

Through the long depths of the off-season, we have persevered in our fandom, finally emerging into a bright new season. Now that football is back, we can stop pretending to care about less important things in our life such as washing the dishes, taking the kids to school, and paying credit card bills.

However, before you kick back, and settle into your armchair, or add to the swelling roar that is the 12th Man, you may want to take a moment, and attempt to convey to your friends/loved ones/parole officer why they will not be seeing you in any useful capacity until February.

After the jump, we'll take a moment to show you the most appropriate way to gently break it to the important entities in your life.

Credit for the idea and original work go to UprootedTexan, thank you for allowing me to post this.

Dear (Spouse/Significant Other/Favorite House pet),

Do you remember when we went to (vacation spot/place of personal significance/Olive Garden)? Those were some fun times, weren't they? I will remember that thing we did at that place until the day I die.

But there are changes coming over the next several months that I thought you should be aware of. Major changes, changes that could affect (the children/the pets/the near-dead ficus in the corner).

We'll start with the basics:

1. Every Sunday, from (1 p.m. EDT/12 p.m. CDT/11 a.m. MDT/10 a.m. PDT) to roughly (11 p.m. EDT/10 p.m. CDT/9 p.m. MDT/8 p.m. PDT), I will have no value to anyone other than watching the Seahawks, drinking (soda/liquor/hog piss whatever the hell light beer is) and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide. Do not ask me to (take out the garbage/walk the housepets/water the plant/put on pants). These tasks will not be done, and I will not understand why you're upset with me when they haven't been done.

2. If you see lichen, mildew, or small woodland creatures making a nest on me, please remove them, or at least keep them out of my eyes and mouth, as they will deprive me of football and previously mentioned drinking choices.

3. During non-football days, I promise to at least attempt to be a functional human being capable of things like playing Scrabble, keeping (the kids/pets/houseplant) from playing in traffic too much, and feeding myself without too much difficulty; you know, things that will only require about 25% brainpower. The other 75% will be dedicated to breaking down last week's Seahawks game, thinking about next week's match-up with (inferior non-Seahawks team), and deciding which jersey I'll wear while watching next week's Seahawks game.

4. Any semblance of emotional or psychological stability you've witnessed in the last few months will all be gone by halftime this Sunday. If, at any point, you see or hear me screaming in a fit of rage one second, then smiling calmly the next, do not call the Avalon Center for Mental Health Treatment; I am perfectly sane. If the Seahawks lose (Durga forbid), do not try to console me; it will only make me think of why I need consoling and make me feel even worse. I will require a minimum of three hours before I can be calm enough for rational thought. If they lose in a particularly horrible manner, like what Bill Leavy did to us, you and the (kids/pets/ficus) should probably go stay at a motel for the week, as my head could very possibly explode and you shouldn't have to be bothered with that kind of mess (editor's note: it helps when you make it sound like you're thinking of them)..

5. If you decide to sit and watch the game with me, please do not ask me to explain things like why I call Robert Turbin the "SeaHulk," why the San Francisco 49ers are the worst thing to happen to humanity since soy bacon, the difference between a 4-3 and a 3-4 defense, or anything non-Seahawks related. You should know the first three by now, and I don't know the answer to the fourth, nor do I intend to look up the answer during the game.

In conclusion, (name of spouse/significant other/housepet/ficus), I won't be gone, but I won't exactly be here, either. I will be a husk of my former self surrounding a core draped in College Navy, Action Green, Wolf Grey, and White. Do not fear, you'll see me again in February after the Seahawks win the Super Bowl, and we'll be able to pick up our lives where we left off.

Farewell, and I will try to squeeze in thoughts of you between thinking up jokes about Cardinals Quarterbacks.

(Love/Sincerely/Stay Out Of The Garbage!),

(Your Name)

P.S.: We do have (soda/liquor/hog piss whatever the hell light beer is) in the fridge, right?

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