Friday, January 18, 2013

My unfortunate text conversations with Manti Te'o

Like most Yankee bloggers, in my spare time, I enjoy using multiple Internet identities. In the National Rifle Association chatroom, I like to be Big Ed Glock, God of Killing Power, and on the Rush Limbaugh site, I weigh in as Theo the Human Tripod.

But now and then, what Yankee fan doesn't fancy himself - or herself! - as a voluptuous Stanford cheerleader who is dying heroically of an exotic disease? Come on, fess up! We're among friends here. We all do it. Don't act like you don't! It's fun, and it's a great way to meet people - and famous athletes!

I spent most of last fall in character, swapping fun texts with some guy who was pretending to be a Notre Dame football player. (I never checked it out with MTV, but I think the guy is actually the wife of a hog farmer from Duluth.) We had great fun, swapping one-liners and "going all the way" online. Well, I went back into my files to relive some of most cherished exchanges. (I'm K.)

Te'o: We've been texting for months. I've fallen in love with U. When can I see U?

K:  Oh, you silly pooch. I'm really not much to look at. Here is latest photo.

Te'o: Minga! We really need to meet. I want to hold you, even more than want to smash Michigan State this Saturday.

K: Me 2!  I can't wait 2 C U.  We can do - what is football phrase? "horse-collar!" Here is new photo.


K: NO. DO NOT COME!  I have cancer. Bad sinuses. On death door. Owww, pain. Nurse take shot of me in hospital clothes.

Te'o: OMG! This is terrible! I can't concentrate on football. I must C U now!

K: NO. Getting chemo. Doctors not allow visitors. Staff and roommate say hi.
Te'o: Darling, babydoll, U more important than Heisman Trophy.

K: Weak. Doc say not long to live. Cough. U must live 4 me. Never 4get the great texts we had. I am facing last sunset.

Te'o: God, this is horrible! What 2 do?

K:  If ever Notre Dame is losing big game, or TV networks ask about personal life, tell story of me and urge team to, WIN ONE FOR THE SICK GIRL.  OMG. IT'S DEATH. HE WANTS ME TO FOLLOW. I see white light. Am floating like firefly into vast horizon. - 30 -

Te'o: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Baby, text something, text something, NOOOOOOOOO-

Te'o: IT'S BEEN DAYS. Still no obit. Must have missed funeral. TEXT SOMETHING.

K: Hey there, cow-pardner. It's Virgil the Talking Horse. Your old lady K told me you could use a new text buddy! Wanna talk? Don't say, Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! LOL. Trust me, I'm more fun than Theo, the Human Tripod. Here's my photo!


John M said...

Virgil the talking horse.

This was hysterical. I needed a good laugh. Thanks.

Aeneas the Talking Horse said...

I agree. This is hysterical. I laughed out loud. Actually, winnied. For I am Aeneas, also a Talking Horse. An Olympic Equestrian Horse, up for the Hickox Belt. (Bats Horse Eyelashes). Virgil, you stud you.

SanJoseKid said...

Actually, ALL Stanford students are that vacuous. They can't get into Berkeley, so their parents send them to Stanford to play polo, sip chardonnay and posture. And posture they do. Those that aren't holograms are poster children for privilege. Real Americans go to public institutions, such as Cal. Go Bears. Beat Stanford! Hang Harbaugh. And, by the way, Berkeley has more Nobel winners than Stanford. Nyaaah! And don't get me started about Notre Dame. Can you spell P-R-E-T-E-N-T-I-O-U-S? Do you know what is great about NYC? Stanford and Notre Dame are miles away.

bennyboy said...

This is also the funniest thing this blog has posted in four months. Congratulations, Duque and Bill White.