(American) professional football kicks off Sunday.
I hope wives are busy making pigs-in-a-blanket and other tasty treats, polishing television screens and performing other household chores needed to make your husbands' big day a special one. And please don't spoil your menfolk's enjoyment by asking silly questions that take attention from the game such as "why do they call it football when the players' feet hardly ever hit the ball?," "what inning is it?," and "they called a penalty so why isn't the player sent to the penalty box?"
Being an inquisitive sort and unable to grasp the rules of football, early in my marriage I usually found myself on football Sunday standing in the corner with a stinging red behind a few minutes into the first quarter for "talking too much." After ten years together, I've learned to follow a strict routine.
After laying out a tasty spread on the coffee table in front of the TV for my husband's enjoyment, I sit in a chair facing a corner of the living room during the warm-up game and busy myself with darning my husband's socks, knitting him a Christmas sweater or other needle work. In the break before the second game when the home team plays, I retire to the bedroom and put on a naughty cheerleader's outfit.
About that time, a couple of my husband's single friends show up to watch the game. I go downstairs and entertain them with cheers about what great guys they are, how lucky their girlfriends are to have them and that I hope they takes pains to blister their beloveds' backsides when they're naughty.
Right at kickoff, I take my customary position across my husband's lap with my pleated cheerleader skirt flipped up and a hairbrush resting on top of my "spankies" (underwear), which by the way have "I < heart > Hubby" stitched on them.
When the visiting team scores, my husband gives me a stinging spank with the brush for every point to vent his frustration. When the home team scores, he gives me two harder spanks for every point to signify his celebration. Of course he starts from zero-zero after every scoring play in calculating the number of spanks.
At game's conclusion his friends leave. I clean up and put away the leftovers while my husband goes down to the basement to spend 20 minutes on his rowing machine burning off calories from pigs-in-a-blanket and beer he's consumed.
Then we go upstairs and I put on some sexy lingerie. If the home team loses, I get a punishment paddling and am sent to bed with no supper to remind me to cheer harder next time. Then my husband goes into the computer room to smoke cigars all night while composing angry posts to the team's coach on his blog. If the home team wins, I get light OTK with the hand to warm me and hubby up, then we have hot sex all night.