I hate the Holy War. Okay, hate is a strong word. I ABSOLUTELY AND COMPLETELY LOATHE the Holy War. This sounds odd coming from a hard core Utah football fan as myself, but this is the one game of the year that ties my stomach in a square knot. Oh, yes, a SQUARE KNOT! (Bah, bah, bahhhhh!) I hate the uncertainty of how the game will play out. I hate having to be in the same stadium as those blue southerners. Most of all, I hate Rilvary Week. Oh...wait...I withdraw my last statement...
I love Rilvary Week. When else am I able to smack talk on Provo and the Y 24/7? How often am I able to spend an entire week looking for reasons to tell awesome Y-coed jokes? Oh, wait, I can do this whenever I want! Sweet sauce! But I feel extra priveledged to gather with my crimson posse in a unified we-rather-dislike-BYU week of mean text messaging, and vocal smack-downs.
Even as I'm writing this, Y jokes are filling my brain. My left hand is grasping my right wrist with all its might so as not to send hundreds of outlandish and cruel the-Y-smells-like-lame-sauce text messages to all my misled friends.
All I ask from my Utes this week is to beat the Cougs. Wait, beat is a strong word. I want them to CRUSH, MAIM, PULVERIZE, SMOTHER, SQUISH, AND TRAMPLE all over those kitties behinds!!! I want them to run from the Utes cowering in fear, wiping tears off their cheeks to prevent stains from their already shredded uniforms. I want to win I tell you, win! WIIIINNNN!!!
Suit up, men! The war has begun!