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Hey everyone,
I thought I’d give an update on the original Waterboy (my little brother). For those that weren’t around for the beginnings of tPB, Waterboy worked his way up from cleaning the jockstraps of offensive lineman to holding up the big play signs during a 3-year stint as a Waterboy for the Huskers. During that time he provided “Waterboy Nugs,” which were mostly incorrect predictions about which players were poised for a breakout season.
Many of you may remember that OG Waterboy was a degenerate alcoholic with no moral compass and questionable taste in women. His only redeeming quality was his incessant optimism. However that same optimism resulted in him swearing that Frost would turn it around. Regardless of how big of a shit show north stadium was, he always viewed things through his rose colored glasses and promised that “this is the year that A-Mart will realize his full potential and win the Heisman.”
OG Waterboy, for all his flaws, viewed women through the same rose colored glasses. As easy as it was to talk himself into Adrian Martinez winning the Heisman, it was perhaps easier for him to talk himself into a big fat drunk ogre of a girl being a 6/10, and thus eligible to take home to his place.
Because of this, I always figured he would knock-up some nasty fat girl whose goal in life was to be a welfare queen and find himself drowning in child-support payments. Maybe that was my own pessimism… the same pessimism that told me the Husker would shit the bed against the Vadgers today and miss out on a bowl game for the millionth year.
Well, as fate would have it, the Huskers kicked the piss out of the Vadgers today, and as I was getting ready to turn in for the night satisfied with the win and buzzed off of Busch Lattes, I got a knock on the door. Lo and behold, it was Waterboy, standing on my front porch, holding hands with a girl who was, to my surprise, not fat, not ugly, and working her way through medical school.
I knew he’d been dating her for a while but this was the first time meeting her. He later told me in private that he’s planning on proposing soon and wanted me to meet her first. The little fuck got all emotional and told me “I think she’s the one.”
And folks, it got me thinking. Maybe the curse wasn’t Solich. Maybe it wasn’t the ghost of Lawrence Phillips. Maybe the curse wasn’t waiting until the timely demise of Tom Osborn to lift itself. Maybe…just maybe…the curse was my dumbass brother and his propensity for fat girls. Maybe all that had to happen to lift the Huskers curse was for him to lift his own curse.
The kid is getting ready to propose to a decent girl with a bright future, and all the sudden, Nebrasketball puts a beat-down on #14 Pickle Smoochers. Nebraska football snaps a 10-game losing streak against WiscyDicks in dominating fashion. And then the Blackshorts dominate #6 WiscyDicks.
Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe the football gods don’t give a fuck what kind of women a 22 year old spoiled fuck from Nebraska does.
But maybe, just maybe, the curse has been lifted.
I thought I’d give an update on the original Waterboy (my little brother). For those that weren’t around for the beginnings of tPB, Waterboy worked his way up from cleaning the jockstraps of offensive lineman to holding up the big play signs during a 3-year stint as a Waterboy for the Huskers. During that time he provided “Waterboy Nugs,” which were mostly incorrect predictions about which players were poised for a breakout season.
Many of you may remember that OG Waterboy was a degenerate alcoholic with no moral compass and questionable taste in women. His only redeeming quality was his incessant optimism. However that same optimism resulted in him swearing that Frost would turn it around. Regardless of how big of a shit show north stadium was, he always viewed things through his rose colored glasses and promised that “this is the year that A-Mart will realize his full potential and win the Heisman.”
OG Waterboy, for all his flaws, viewed women through the same rose colored glasses. As easy as it was to talk himself into Adrian Martinez winning the Heisman, it was perhaps easier for him to talk himself into a big fat drunk ogre of a girl being a 6/10, and thus eligible to take home to his place.
Because of this, I always figured he would knock-up some nasty fat girl whose goal in life was to be a welfare queen and find himself drowning in child-support payments. Maybe that was my own pessimism… the same pessimism that told me the Husker would shit the bed against the Vadgers today and miss out on a bowl game for the millionth year.
Well, as fate would have it, the Huskers kicked the piss out of the Vadgers today, and as I was getting ready to turn in for the night satisfied with the win and buzzed off of Busch Lattes, I got a knock on the door. Lo and behold, it was Waterboy, standing on my front porch, holding hands with a girl who was, to my surprise, not fat, not ugly, and working her way through medical school.
I knew he’d been dating her for a while but this was the first time meeting her. He later told me in private that he’s planning on proposing soon and wanted me to meet her first. The little fuck got all emotional and told me “I think she’s the one.”
And folks, it got me thinking. Maybe the curse wasn’t Solich. Maybe it wasn’t the ghost of Lawrence Phillips. Maybe the curse wasn’t waiting until the timely demise of Tom Osborn to lift itself. Maybe…just maybe…the curse was my dumbass brother and his propensity for fat girls. Maybe all that had to happen to lift the Huskers curse was for him to lift his own curse.
The kid is getting ready to propose to a decent girl with a bright future, and all the sudden, Nebrasketball puts a beat-down on #14 Pickle Smoochers. Nebraska football snaps a 10-game losing streak against WiscyDicks in dominating fashion. And then the Blackshorts dominate #6 WiscyDicks.
Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe the football gods don’t give a fuck what kind of women a 22 year old spoiled fuck from Nebraska does.
But maybe, just maybe, the curse has been lifted.
