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Dear Christy,

My man-meat is obsessed with football. He is out of commission on Thursdays and Sundays. This would be fine and dandy — I have other important things to do on those days, such as pedicures and wine — except his favorite team never wins.

Ask Christy



Christy Fantz has relationship advice and she’s not afraid to dish it out. Send your questions to fantz@coloradodaily.com.

This means he gets cranky every Sunday and I get no nookie and usually a fight. Or a binge-drunk dude weeping at my doorstep. He’s super hot, so this is clearly not a deal-breaker.

But how am I supposed to handle this?

Wanting Balls not Footballs on Sunday

Balls:

Oh dear. You asked the wrong girl.

I love college football. NFL, on the other hand? Eh. I’ve had better.

However, with a Thursday and Sunday mention above, I assume he’s with NFL, as college reigns (mainly) on Saturday.

If NFL is the case, I give you permission to grab his balls, drag him into the bedroom and knock them around a bit. If he’s drunk, well, your job just got easier.

Now, if you said Saturday, I may have to grab you by the rack and knock you around.

It appears you’re safe.

NFL sucks.

Sorry dudes, but college is so much better. Those tight asses play for free (sans USC — cheaters).

However, I can sympathize — even regarding college ball.

In my days at the University of Florida,* when the Gators lost, my buddies would perch in front of ESPN all damn night crying into their Natty Lights.

I had to slip Midol in those boys’ drinks to cure the PMS.

But once I collected them, it only took a couple dozen three-story beer bongs and a walk home hurling empty 40s at frat houses to assuage the loss.

Bust out that chastity belt. It’s time to give your man a taste of abstinence.

Nevermind. You’re clearly a horny bastard.

Guess it’s time to stock up on 40s.

*The few I can remember.

Dear Christy,

I have a boyfriend and I slipped up. If you’re drunk and make out with someone, does it count?

Lushy

Lushy:

Your name is top notch. I wish to steal it.

I digress.

You’re an asshole. Period. You cheated. Cheaters go to hell.

(You’re not allowed in my rebel side of heaven. My ego takes up all the space.)

Anyway. If you’re drunk and repeatedly stab your left ass cheek, does it count?

Test that theory tonight. Do it nice and hard (that’s what she said). I expect a full report tomorrow morning.

Stop cheating on your boyfriend, jerk.

I hope he’s nailing your roommate right now.

Two wrongs make a good time.

Good talk.

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