As you have noticed, the competition in the fantasy football league is getting a little personal but all in good fun.  Until now.  When fun turns to tragedy.

Next week I am up against the hottest guy in our league.  He is also the most testy person in our league because he has lost 3 in a row and it looks like it is going to be down to the wire against his opponent tonight.  The stakes are high.  If Pache wins, Derek has to dress up as Pooh for Halloween.  He also informed me today that if he loses, The Boy will have to dress as Piglet.  If Derek wins, Pache has to dress up like a chicken.  Either way, there will be pictures.  I promise.  But now I am really pulling for my husband to win (not that I wasn't before but now I REALLY, REALLY am because I'm not feeling the Piglet love). 

Well, I was pulling for him until last night.  We had to return Cath's lawnmower after we borrowed it due to a "lawn mower incident" at our house.  The Boy and I decided to walk the 7 blocks to her house.  Actually I walked and he strolled in his brand new/17 lb used double stroller that Mom bought at the consignment sale on Saturday.  I kept waiting for Derek to drive by but when I got to Cath's corner and he wasn't there, I got it in my head that I could "beat" him there.  And then I saw him driving up behind us.  With that, my 5 month pregnant out of shape ass broke into a "run" up the hill that is Cath's street.  The hill that resembles Walton Mountain it is so friggin' steep.  With that, I heard all 8 cylinders kick in behind me.  As in peddle to the medal.  The Boy screeched and I ran faster.  Because I can outrun a V-8 truck.  Driven by a very bitter man. 

He passed us doing 60 in a residential neighborhood.  I guess he is anticipating getting his ass kicked next weekend. 

He's gonna make a hot Pooh.