The Saints Hate Your Marraige

Oh please. Cry me a fucking river.

"I cried all last Sunday," said Chauffe, 26, recalling her reaction when she learned that football would conflict with her real life. "And I feel really, really bad for the people who already bought playoff tickets who have to be'' at the wedding.

Two bridesmaids and a groomsman who paid $600 for his seats will be letting their tickets go, Boland added. They will miss a game that would be historic for Saints fans even without the backdrop of Hurricane Katrina's devastation; the Saints have never hosted a second-round playoff game before.

Maybe it's not the game, lady. Maybe it's the prospect of having to sit around your ugly relatives who make awkward banter at you over mushy pasta and questionable lamb, while people in their mid-twenties do the running man to Bust a Move and jump up and down to Living on a Prayer.

Or maybe it's because Drew Brees has a better completion percentage of offensive passes than your creepy Uncle Lenny.

Or maybe - just maybe - it's because they know that you have a coin's flip of getting divorced, and even if that doesn't happen, some gay people getting married in Massachusetts are threatening your marriage anyway.

But it's probably your Uncle Lenny. That dude is gross.


Note: I was in a wedding during Game 3 of the Red Sox vs. Yankees in 2004. And instead of pissing themselves over the fact that people wanted to see something historic and uplifting, the couple embraced it, wheeled in a TV during the reception and made it part of the wedding. It was awesome (up until the Sox were getting beat like rented mules).

Note II: After you cry me that aforementioned river, please put up a rope swing because those things are the bomb. Then you can watch my awesome impersonation of Jeff Buckley.