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Who Dat?
It’s everywhere. Who Dat, Who Dat, Who Dat talkin’ bout beaten dem Saints. What a phrase! Only in Louisiana could a slogan catch on that has 7 mispelled words.
I don’t know about you but in the first quarter I was so nervous I couldn’t enjoy the Super Bowl. I started thinking and wishing the Saints hadn’t made the playoffs so I could enjoy this yearly party. However when I saw we had controlled the clock for thirteen minutes in the second quarter I started feeling a whole lot better. Oh! When we kicked the on-side kick I felt as if I had divorced my ex-wife again. Whooa Hoo!
I’ve been celebrating for weeks since the Saints became Super Bowl Champs and I have met or heard stories that make these folks, Who Dat Champs”.
Who Dat?
I was enjoying a nice Mexican meal with a really nice young couple this past month. The subject of Peyton Manning came up. The husband of this young couple said, “Who dat?” I looked at him with a befuddled glare and his wife spoke up and said, “That’s my Big Daddy. He doesn’t know crap about football.” She told me once he was watching a game and pointed out that the striped guys were throwing trash on the field. Of course it was penalty flags. She said he is great at the parties cause he can drink a case of beer but don’t ask him who’s gonna beat the spread.
Who Dat?
I enjoyed riding and throwing beads in the Spanish Town Mardi Gras Parade again this year but like years in the past there was this one weak-minded jerk in the crowd throwing beads back at us on the float. This jerk threw beads and hit my son Lebeau’s girl friend in the face. Lebeau saw the guy who did it and had a big heavy bead in his hand and hurled the beads and whapped the punk in the face. Well now this coward hiding in the crowd was upset that he had welps on his face and now wanted to fight because he had felt the sting of beads in the face. After a couple of hand gestures back and forth this snivelling weak-minded piece of dung thought he was gonna charge the float and settle this matter in person. His first obsticale was a baracade which he needed to clear but his FUBU pants were around his knees. There he was, a hand on the rail, a hand holding his pants and a look on his face like he was gonna cry. Well, I say cry. I say look in the mirror and look at what you are. You are a piece of thrash that has to hide behind people and sneak attack a young girl by throwing beads at her face. You must be proud. Look where you’re going. Nowhere! All you are is a coward with your, “Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, looking like a fool with your pants on the ground.”
Who Dat?
Now I wouldn’t want to be in my good friend Chico’s pants on Valentine’s Day. He told me
he and his wife were getting ready to go out for a Valentine dinner. She had layed out some slacks for him to dress properly for a nice dinner out.
He picked up the pants, put them on and noticed something very strange about the pants.
They had 3 buttons instead of 1 to attach. He then said, “Baby these pants aren’t mine.” They looked at each other and realized at the same time that she had layed her pants out. He
immediatley started acting as if they were tight and weren’t gonna fit. She went to screaming and shouting get get out of my pants. Then the laughter started and the threats began. If you ever,
ever tell anybody about this you won’t be getting in any pants for a long time.
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