Yesterday was the family’s first football gathering of the season, giving us a chance to eat tacos, break up kiddie fights, complain about the running game, lament the lack of carrot cake, demand of various family members to spend halftime out seeking carrot cake, throw plates of half-eaten carrot cake at Jeff Reed, etc.
How am I supposed to write about anything other than Jeff Reed? Hmm? How?
Do I talk about the fact that Troysus looked pitiful on the sidelines?
Do I talk about Willie actually gaining some yardage?
The Asshat returning to his Butterfinger roots?
Benny playing more than decently?
How do I do that when all I really want to do is talk about Jeff Reed?
EVERYONE wants to talk about Jeff Reed! Look at France’s president during a pre-G20 talk!
I am SO WITH YOU, Nicky. So with you. Let’s have a drink while you’re here.
First things first:
1. BENNY! First, you need a haircut, STAT.
Second, way to show you’re not always a late bloomer, that you can run with authority when you want to, that you’re not afraid to take a hit, that you can dive for a touchdown when the team needs you to, and that you can pump fake until your arm falls off. And even then, you’ll pick that arm up with your other hand and you’ll pump fake until that one falls off.
2. Running game, meh. At least Willie gave up on running backwards long enough to gain some yardage.
3. Meh. Meh. MEH! Look, I can’t even go on. It was a semi-decent game because everyone put in a semi-decent performance, but Jeff Reed … oh.
I wasn’t in front of the TV when he missed the first field goal, so when I heard, I was all, “JEFF REED MISSED A FIELD GOAL?! Was it like a 60-yarder? Gale force winds? Was it intercepted by a hawk?! WTF?!”
Then when he missed the second field goal, I knew he was intentionally trying to sabotage my fantasy football team. Look at what he did to me!
And yeah, look at what the defense did to me. Look what EVERYONE DID TO ME!
Tell me, fantasy football knowers, is 55.9 the least amount of points anyone has ever received ever in the history of ever?
I thought so.
Poor Skippy, not a slut to be had.
God only knows what happened to Skippy to make this happen. Maybe he had a rough night. Maybe his eyes are bothering him or he pulled a muscle during some sexual escapade. We’ll never know.
But we do know this. Watch out Sheetz paper towel dispensers. Skippy’s pissed. Not a one of you is safe from those monster thighs.
Wonder what happened to all the sluts they had on standby.
We all know the answer to that question. “I like ’em ugly.”
Oh, I went there.