All of them.
Goddamn remember when we were so sexy put together elegant last week.
Okay, put everything aside. I know a lot of you jumped off the Kirbs' bandwagon yesterday after dropping a lit Bic on it and chunkin' deuces, but let's just hug some perspective real, real tight.
"It's not how many times you fall, it's how many times you get up."
A wise well endowed woman once said that after trying to impress YouTube viewers as she rode a grocery cart on it's awkwardly slim handle.
The coaches have to get this team off the mat this week. Because they are down. And I mean DOWN! They're whatever a turtle looks like if it doesn't have its shell. I mean, they have no pants. Hugh Freeze bought all of their pants, lit them on fire, and then prayed for us.
What an asshole.
The only thing that matters now is beating Tennessee. If we know now that we're not a great team, we also know that those hillbillies aren't either. And they're coming to our house.
So let's tidy up the foyer Coach Chaney. Fold your laundry up Coach Rocker. Stop pissing on the tile around the toilet Coach Tucker.
And Hey Kirbs, don't wait until the end of the first quarter to read my blog. Why you like to kick so much bro?
Enough of all that. Look, the message is clear: don't give up on this team and let's all come together to beat these inbred, prius driving, boxed franzia in the anus dumbasses in Athens this next weekend.
Say it with me...HEY YOU, WITH THE PITCHFORK!...put it down and let's say it all together...