I have missed two Panthers games in eight years: one in 2006 when I went camping with a girl I was trying to get with (she shot my ass down) and another in 2010 when I was in Thailand (and those games were pretty expendable anyway.) I refuse to work Sundays at any job I work.
Fast forward to this week. Lots of poo happening at my bar. I told them I could take the shift, because even though the hotel is going to be filled with dumbass middle school teachers who will invariably line up at my bar and take sixteen minutes to order some bullshit with Malibu rum and grenadine and then bitch that they can't taste the liquor in their pineapple juice, I still have a television mounted against the far wall of the bar, so I can at least peer over their slovenly hairdos to watch David Foucault pancake Saints players all the way into Sean Payton's drug stash under the gatorade cooler on the sideline.
But then what happens? I go onto NFL.com to look up Kelvin Benjamin's rookie stats so I can comment in the all-rookie team thread with a projection of his stats for the year, and what's the first article?
Use a lot of big mirrors.