We don't know much here at The Smother, but we know two things for sure; that is two things that we really aren't good at. The first is painfully obvious, we aren't that good at running a blog. The second is also painfully obvious, we don't meet a lot of women.
In fact, we would go as far as to say that the only people who know less about meeting women than us are the presumably desperately lonely men who actually read this thing (a comment which in itself is evidence of the first failing - ie. calling your few readers desperate or lonely). Say what you will about our bad jokes and lack of interpersonal skills, you can't say that we don't try. And try we will.
Because women, when you think about it, are a lot like a football team; and this is how we settled on Collingwood (that's not technically true, we support them because our fathers did, but there is something tremendously creepy about choosing the same woman as your Father, a topic that probably deserves more of a thesis than a blog - but we digress).
Collingwood is a big hunk of lady who you can always depend on. Let your mates laugh and heckle, let them poke fun at her masculine figure and facial hair, her failing dental health. It doesn't matter, what does matter is that she's hefty and ugly and she'll always look after you.
Richmond, she's beautiful and knows it. She's always up for dinner and you're always paying and every time she insists that tonight's the night... until she remembers her parents are staying or she has to be up early or something. It's all false dawns and Punt Road, and you end up down $150 and flicking through Tinder on the train ride home.
Carlton, on the other hand, excites you like no-one else. She's got model good looks and lives her whole life on the edge of her seat, launching into far-flung escapades that dabble with the very edges of law & order. She's always close, she wants to be an actor and insists she only needs to spend a few more thousand on a promo reel and her career will take off, then she'll marry you. It's better than Richmond, in that you actually get to sleepover, but it's worse because you know that you'll both be either in jail or dead before you're walking down that aisle.
There's always heartbreak in football, but give me my dirty black and white lady any day.
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In the news...
Lions tall Matthew Leuenberger is expected to miss up to 12 weeks after injuring a right knee in the process of being thoroughly buggered by the Crows at the weekend. Pearce Hanley will also miss the next fortnight with hamstring-strain.
Dale Morris has gleefully accepted a one week ban for tripping, knowing that a leg injury will keep him out anyway.
Dockers coach Ross Lyon has condemned a lack of a discipline from his new signing Colin Sylvia. Sylvia faces suspension for rough conduct in a WAFL match on the weekend.
And in further evidence of Essendon's need to listen to doctors, at least six players and their coach have been struck down by a virus. Assistant coach Simon Goodwin has ordered those struck down to stay away from the club, while Medical Professional Dr. Ageless insists he could have the whole thing gone in a jiffy.
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