A Game Day Mile-High Salute to Chiefs Fans in Denver

It's game day here in the mile-high city, and the wife and I are pumped to hoof it down to Lot N for some breakfast and booze with the other HoG couples. Considering it's probably 35 degrees out, and it snowed like 80 feet (somewhere) yesterday, we're thankful that none of us have yet born offspring. Especially us. That would've meant we would've had to bundle up another body, feed it and ask it to trudge through the drifts with us, 'cause I ain't carryin' nobody.

Not to mention that the lil' fucker would've woken us up some time ago, instead of when we chose to. But anyway, after the jump, check out what I'll be digging on as we trod through downtown.

Ah. You made it. Nice. To answer myself, that'd be pretty much nothing. We won't see The Scout overlooking Penn Valley. We won't hear The Tomahawk Chop (loudly), we won't hear the "First Down!" for the Chiefs. We will, however, aside from our own, see sorry excuses for tailgates -- Seven and Cecil put together a pretty good gig but they sort of feel pressured to, you know, since they're tailgating with a Chiefs fan (and a smoothly handsome one at that) -- and we will see dumb statues of horses everywhere, and we will see lots of ugly -- namely orange and blue -- colors, and we will hear the gayest stadium -- In-Com-Plete -- chant in the northern hemisphere and we will suffer through the "protect this house" retardedness with which the PA assaults one.

Most importantly, we will see a victory! And we hope it's by the visiting team! Let's go, Chiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeefs!

Oh, and eff those mothereffin' In-Com-Plete homos. That's how I know you're gay, BroncoNation.