We’ve all been there. Your head is full of excitement and anticipation for what you think is about to come or just what the night will bring. The couples start pairing off as the music starts. As we expected, the belle of the ball immediately finds a partner, seemingly almost before the dance even started. This was expected though. We knew we didn’t have a chance to dance with that one.
The first song comes to an end. The paired couples smile back and forth at each other as the lights dance all over the room and its occupants. Suddenly a loud techno beat fills the place and the prospective partners are on the prowl again. You glance across the room and you see it. The one you’re there for, but you’re all the way across the room. There are at least 12 -13 steps in between you and your ultimate goal for that evening. You push through the crowd, calling your friends and colleagues in a feeble attempt to get any kind of inside track to winning the day.
The DJ fades out Dirty Diddy Money’s “Ass On the Floor.” The lights come down and then come right back up at full intensity as the crowd parts and there it is. What you were looking for is right in front of your face and gazing lovingly back into your eyes. Now there are no other assholes or distractions in the way to screw up your chances to dance with the object of your affection. With the 14th overall pick of the 2025 NFL Draft, the Indianapolis Colts select tight end Tyler Warren from Penn State. The one you came to the dance for, is going home with you tonight. Sweet!
Having bagged the babe you’d set your eyes on the night before, you enter the club on night two ready to prowl with a little pep in your step and a little extra confidence in your game. Afterall, you got exactly what you wanted last night. What’s to stop you from repeating? Well with great confidence often comes great hubris. After having a few cocktails and enjoying some of the ever-present atmospheric smoke that has a distinct “skunky” aroma, you stroll right up to your potential dance partner and ask, “How would you like to twerk that thang for me?” Uh, not the best pickup line and not even the prettiest girl at the dance. Ah, but what the hell. She’s hot and there were an awful lot of other guys lining up behind you for a chance to take a swipe at dat.
Night two was going okay, until you started to really enjoy the kamikazes and long island iced teas a bit too much. Cruising around, high fiving your buddies congratulating yourself on conquests thus far. After countless meaningless conversations, you hear the DJ announce last call. In a flurry, you try to straighten and adjust your beer goggles and clear all of that THC smoke out of your head, so you can complete that night’s last mission. After accidentally running into and then consuming five additional Jägerbombs, your bloodshot eyes clear and you can make out a pleasant shape. In a panic due to last call, chemical substances and most possibly the running of Spandau Ballet’s This Much Is True in your ears, you loudly announce your intentions with the pleasing, blurry shape. As the music dies down and the lights come up, several of your bros and even more strangers are looking at you going, “Dude?!”
Undeterred by your liquid courage, you confidently head back to your hotel for what is to be expected as conjugal bliss. After passing out, you drift in and out of sleep, euphoria and alcohol poisoning only to awaken in a trashed hotel suite. You lie there in somewhat of disbelief. What you remember from last night, doesn’t seem to match up with reality this morning. After much contemplation you realize that you need to get your ass up and get the new started. Just as you try to rise from the entangled sheets and pillows you realize your arm is stuck. As the haze clears and your facilities slowly start to come online, you realize your arm isn’t trapped in something, it is trapped under someone. And there it is. Asleep in all her glory with a big old grin on her face. There she is, right there is the very Colts jersey you gave her last night.
You’ve done it this time. Everybody knows what you did last night. Now what do you do? Lay there trapped, praying for an early onset stroke or possibly even maybe that a stray meteor might just strike your hotel? No such luck today. In fact, no Luck since 2019. This is your bed, and you get to lie in it. One more desperate thought enters your racing mind. If I could just get out of here, maybe it would all go away? But would it? Are you really considering chewing your own arm off to avoid the Golden Gopher Ugly woman lying next to you, peacefully asleep dreaming of spending the next several years with you? Too late buddy. Barring World War III or a bad pre-nup, you are joined at the hip my friend.
Do you think Chris had a hangover Saturday morning? I am trying to logically figure out why we took a corner in the third round when there was so much more there to offer at 80. Walley joins a crowded CB room with the likes of Charvarius Ward, JuJu Brents, Cam Bynum, Sam Womack III, Kenny Moore II, and Corey Ballentine to mention a few. I am not insinuating that Justin can’t be contributor on defense in the NFL, I just think he is more of a developmental player that at best will be a back-up and special teamer this year. Seems to me to be an awfully high draft pick for a project corner when there are pressing needs at offensive line, defensive tackle, linebacker, safety and even at running back.
-That is the Forged Truth from the Meanie
@BluemeanieColts
