Jasmine Hates The New Orleans Saints
My weekly, “I hate the Cowboys Opponents Rant,” where my hate for the other team is rooted in highly non-sensical reasoning and the fact that I’ve generally never even stepped foot in most of the opposing team’s cities.
This week, I’m coming after you, New Orleans Saints!
I hate the New Orleans Saints because, well, frankly, it’s REALLY easy to do so after they were involved in, oh I don’t know, A BOUNTY SCANDAL WHERE OPPOSING PLAYERS WERE VICIOUSLY TARGETED WITH MALICIOUS INTENT FOR THE SAKE OF GETTING A NICE WAD OF CRUMPLED BILLS IN RETURN!! Here’s an idea, New Orleans Saints… how about actually playing for your team with the friggin mansions you live in already and the cars you drive as incentive!??! You know, that whole LUCRATIVE CONTRACT thing!?!?
I hate the New Orleans Saints because of the stupid “Who Dat!” rally cry that their fans belt out at any given moment like others around them actually want to hear that crap! What a brainless bellow! I personally think, “How ’bout them Cowboys?!” has a MUCH more intelligent ring to it… Behold these Saints fans and their incessant “Who Dat!” hollering.
I hate the New Orleans Saints because here is yet ANOTHER NFL team with an animal as their mascot that I cannot hate! I hate that I CAN’T hate Gumbo the dog! How am I supposed to hate a giant St. Bernard dog who wears a football jersey?!?!
I hate the New Orleans Saints because three of their city’s food staples have scarred me for the rest of my life. Back in 1995, I was at a Dallas Mavericks “Jason Kidd Rookie of the Year Rally” held at the old Reunion Arena. An authentic New Orleans cajun food place brought in gumbo to serve to us patrons. Let’s just say that this rotten gumbo left me making floor soup for nearly a week. Secondly, New Orleans has squared shaped fried pastries known as beignets (pronounced like “ben-yays”) Well, that sounds WAY too close to “bidet”–a low oval basin used for the purpose of washing your junk and exit areas. Fried doughnuts should NEVER force me to make this confusion. And lastly, there’s the “Zatarain’s” brand of dirty rice. My loser ex-boyfriend used to make POTS of these at one time and we would have to feed off of them for at LEAST a week. So, thank you, New Orleans Saints for leaving me with these traumatic memories. I will never forget where I was when each of them occurred or was revealed to me…
I hate the New Orleans Saints because of their city’s language that I was first introduced to when a fight broke out at a house party I was once at in my late teens and it was all started by a guy who looked like a Cajun Marky Mark. True story. The guy ripped off his shirt, started yapping in New Orleans speak and had to be held back by his busty blond webcam model girlfriend, Amber Denae, and a chick in a Hooters costume and pigtails, riding a plastic toddler trike. What are these people even saying? They speak a hybrid jibberish that is neither Cajun nor Southern and is marked by the fact that they tend to leave out the “r’s” in words. Hey New Orleans: NEWSFLASH! WHEN A WORD HAS AN “R” IN IT, IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AND ACTUALLY BE PRONOUNCED!
I hate the New Orleans Saints because they truly ARE filthy and they support the starvation of young children at the hands of their local prostitutes. Let me explain. For starters, in 2012, Travel+Leisure named New Orleans the #2 “America’s Dirtiest City”, down from a #1 “Dirtiest” status from the year before. The survey cited characteristics including, but not limited to the following: visible illegal littering, dumping and other related environmental crime conditions. When I was 9, my family took a road trip to New Orleans. My mom and I were standing in line at Tony Roma’s in downtown, ready to pay for our meal. My mother reaches into her Jordache jean bag and lo and behold–someone had stolen her wallet! We found out later on that the pick pocket just so happened to be the hooker in the bright yellow tube dress and fishnet heels standing in line behind my mom! We never found that wallet AND I never got to eat my chicken fingers kids meal with my souvenir cup of milk. I’ll never forget that, you tramp of a woman, Sinnamon!
I hate the New Orleans Saints because of their parishes. People of New Orleans, they’re called COUNTIES! Get with the rest of the country, will you?? You don’t see US saying “Dallas Parish” or “Tarrant Parish” do you??
I hate the New Orleans Saints because their state is also home to the city of Shreveport. What a terrible, ugly, eye sore of a city. This place actually makes the drive on 635 through Mesquite look scenic. On top of that, this city brings back the awful childhood memories of me getting sick during my family vacation road trip to New Orleans in our 1984 conversion van. I will never forget those powder blue velvet captains chairs bouncing up and down with each bump in the road in simultaneous cadence with the songs blaring from my dad’s Tom Jones cassette tape as the searing sunlight burned my forehead through the raised moon roof.
So, with all of the aforementioned as exhibits A-Z, I officially rest my case as to clearly justifying WHY I hate the New Orleans Saints…
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