The story about how I lost Jesse's coat...again...

When I woke up this morning, I was not in good shape. I was laying on the floor of my new bedroom, because I have yet to acquire any furniture. To make matters worse, I had the familiar post boozefest headache and I was Ethiopian child levels of hungry. What was unfamiliar was the scratches and the soreness that took over the rest of my body.

I managed to get myself to my feet and walk out into the living room. My brother Jesse was sitting and the living room, and it didn't take long for him to notice that I wasn't up to par.

"What the hell happened to you last night?" He asked. I looked at him for a second and let the question register. My body ached, and I was very grumpy. That being said, I never turn down a chance to tell a wild story. You see, the last thing he knew was I was leaving our buddy Josh's house for a night out with friends from work. Was he ever in for a treat.

"Oh buddy, last night was fuckin wild..." 

You see it started like many drunken evenings. The plan

 was to get my drink on at Oscars. I cleaned up real nice, like I do,  so I could look good for the ladies. I had a nice new t shirt on, that made me look like I had some muscles, nice jeans and my brothers leather jacket (the one I had left at Oscars back in December, the first night I got kicked out. This becomes a key plot point, so file that one under "important").  After I gave myself the stamp of approval,  I went out and met up with a group of friends, in this case some people I know from work (most of whom will remain nameless). 

Now with this group, I'm a baby. They let me hang around, because I tickle them with my stories of immaturity and drunken mischief. So whenever I get the chance to show them I'm not lying, I tend to capitalize. That being said, I wanted to show off a bit and prove that I can hang with the older crowd. So instead of ordering my go to drink of Jack and Coke, I decided to kick it up a notch and order 151 and cokes.

Quick side bar: My friends and I have nicknames for lots of things. Girls, activities, and drinks to name a few hardly ever are referred to by their christian names. For example, Bacardi 151 is known simply as the devils piss. It's an evil drink, and tastes like piss. Not that creative of a nickname, but a nickname none the less.

Anywho,  so I'm off slamming  devils piss and coke. I'm trying to keep it at a manageable level of drunkenhood. However, my subconcious desire to entertain my coworkers and lack of experience with 151 made it hard to control. Eventually I passed the drunk level of making good decisions, and start slamming beers by the plenty. Right about the time when I need to start hiding from the owner of Oscars so I don't get kicked out(we're at two times and counting), Chase comes to me with the idea of more beer and video games at his place. This sounds good to me. I love drunken Madden.

So we hop in Chases G-Ride, buy more beer and head towards the house. We get there, and begin the fun. I slam my first beer and start working on another one. ***QUICK STATUS UPDATE: at this point in the story, I'm very, very drunk.*** About half way through the second beer I step outside to see what was going on with everyone. After a moment I realized I was being stupid for being outside with out a coat on in mid february. 

Thats when the horrorible realization hit me-again. I LEFT MY BROTHERS COAT AT OSCARS-AGAIN!!!!!

Again, let me restate that I'm shit house drunk. I started to panic when I realized my phone was dead, ' oh damn, now what am I supposed to do?' (thinking back sober, I realized that EVERYONE has a cell phone and I could've borrowed one). So I did the most logical thing I could....I started to run. Yes, like really run. Like Forrest Gump run. Oh yeah, I ran, despite the fact that I had no idea where I was. What can I say? I was drunk I have no patience for details no matter the size.

After about 15 minutes of running (again remember, I'm drunk not to mention out of shape. It really could've been 3 minutes), I finally found my first landmark. Andreson and 500. Great, I'm like Light Years away from the bar. Do you think I let that discourage me? SHIIIIIIIIT no. I kept running (well now I was power walking).

Another quick side note: I had my I-Pod on me for whatever reason. Checking the time at this point, my I-Pod told me it was roughly mid-night. For those of you not familiar with Washington and Oregon bar standards, this gave me roughly 2 and half hours. I was going to need every one of those minutes.

The next thing I know I'm sprinting across this field. I remember seeing this mighty blue light off in the distance that convinced me it was Wal-Mart, which is near Oscars. So I begin to run that direction. 

I hope you don't fault me when I say that alot of the details over the course of my adventure are blurry, but thats the truth. I don't remember too many specifics, especially in the beginning. But I do remember hopping multiple fences. I do in fact one in particular. I started to climb up this fence, a chain link with no top bar, so by the time I got to the top, my weight had made the fence bend completely over flipping me off. Lucky for me, the spikey top of the fence stabbed into the back of my leg, causing me to NOT hit the ground below. Un lucky for me, I now had a chain link fence inside my leg, causing me to be stuck. I had to stab my hands on the fence to flip myself off.

Now, I know this is a true event and not just a drunken thought because of the melon sized bruise surrounding a vicious gash on the back of my leg in the hamstring area. Also, there were to pencil sized stab wounds on the palms of my hands.

The next thing I remember is coming to a thorn bush about the time that it starts to piss rain on me. Now I try to go over the bush, but couldn't find a way to do it. No way I was going to let a pussy thorn bush delay my efforts. So I dropped to the ground and crawled under the bitch. I know this is true because my cloths were dirty the next day and my back looked like I had angry drunk sex with Lady Death Strike of Xmen fame(The picture right below).

I finally made it to the source of the blue light that I mentioned a few paragraphs ago. Sadly it was not Wal-Mart, rather from a hotel close to the mall. I couldn't allow that to frustrate me, I was on a time crunch. So I back tracked, and after a minute or two, I was on the wrong side of 205.

I know what you're thinking. Dude, no way you're dumb enough to cross a freeway at 1:00 in the morning in the rain and dark. Sadly, I was that dumb. Not only did I cross it, but I sprinted like it like Boarder Patrol was hot on my trail.

After hoping a few backyards, I finally found myself on a street I recognized. 28th and Burton. I stood across the street from the Arco, I knew Oscars was at the top of the hill that I stood at the base of. I had began to sober up a bit, and started to take stock of the damage to my body. I was bleeding, wet, and had a half hour to get up the hill. 

But wait, Arco's have phones! I figured I could just call Jesse and have him come get me! So I ran into the Arco. There was some foreign dude working behind the counter. I usually tell this part of the story with an Arab accent, so lets keep with the trend.

"Yo, dude, can I use your phone?" I asked. Let me paint how I looked to this guy. I'm wearing a white tshirt, and I'm soaked. I'm bleeding and dirty. I'm panting like I just got done running the Boston Marathon on fire. Surely he would let me use the phone.

"You call 9-1-1?" He asked. This confused me. No, I thought. This was not an emergency yet. So why would I call 911?

"No."

"You call 4-1-1?" I'm really sure what the hell that is, but I think it's information. Again, no, I know Jesse's number. In fact, he is really the only number I DO know off the top of my head.

"No, I know the number I need to call"

"Well then you don't use phone." WHAT THE HELL!?!?!? Was this dude serious? I look like I just got sodomized by a Raptor and he won't let me use the phone?

I turned and ran out of the store. I had no time to call him mean names. I had to get to Oscars and that clock was tick-tocking it's way to closing time. I tried to run up the hill. Then I remember two things. One, I'm out of shape. Two, hills are not meant to be ran up by someone who had been drinking. It didn't take long before I put the kabosh to running, and converted to a hasty walk. Also, this is when I tried something for the first time-yes at 2:00 am in the morning in the rain, with blood running down my arm, I begin to attempt hitch hiking. 

ALCOHOL IS THE DEVIL.

After twenty or so minutes of this, a van finally pulled over. When the window rolled down, I instantly got bitch slapped by a pillar of cigerette smoke. Inside the fan, I could see three people. Two teenaged dudes, and an older chick. 

"You wanta ride?" she said in a strong white trash accent. I do not condone hitch hiking. In fact, I think it's kind of dangerous. Especially in the situation I found myself in. Again, I was not making good decisions that night. I've seen horror movies start out like that. Sure they seem nice when the pick up the skinny white kid who is drunk and bleeding at 2 am. But it doesn't take long before they knock you out, cut you open, and harvest your organs. Getting Jesse's coat was worth the risk, so I agreed to get into the van.

As soon as I got into the van, a dog lunged at me from the front seat and bit me in the back. I'll repeat just in case that doesn't sound right. A dog, was up in the front seat in the lap of one of the previously mentioned teenagers. When I got in the fan, the little shit jumped at me, and bit me right in the back. And yes, it hurt like a bitch.

Lucky for me, the dog was restrained and the white trash van was actually headed to the Oscars area. Apparently, they lived behind the bar. I know, go figure.

Well when they dropped me off the lights were off. I ran up to the window to see if I could see anyone in there. Lucky for me, there were still a few people in there. I begin to knock like a crazy person on the windows, trying to get their attention.

A bouncer came to the window and lipped 'we're closed, go away' to me. To which I replied, with hand motions, 'I know, and I'm cold as shit', And 'You have have my coat.' He knew exactly what I was talking about. Within the minute all the bar tenders and bouncers from the night came out and gave me back my coat. They also threatened to not give it back next time (apparently they remembered me from the first time).

So I got the coat back, oh and a cute bartender with huge tits took me home. She warned me about raping her, informing me that everyone was seeing me getting into her car. I informed her right back that she can't rape me, because everyone saw me get into her car. I thought I was very clever.

Unfortunately no consensual (or unconsensual for that matter) sexual intercourse took place that night. Fortunately, I did end up home alive and with coat. 

After I finished the story, Jesse just sat there with a look of disgust on his face. He called me a dumbass, and suggested that I never wear his coat again. I agreed, knowing full well that I was going to wear it later that day. 

I smiled as I hoped in the shower that day. I was moving with the flexibillity of an 80 year old man, and I had a crippling headache. I didn't care. Last night I lived a real life version of Harold Kumar. I hung myself on a fence, traveled all over Vancouver, hitch hiked and got bit by a dog. The story even had a happy ending, I mean I ended up home and I got the coat back (not to mention the fact that I didn't get raped).

AND I STILL HAVE BOTH MY KIDNEYS.

Happy Valentines Day, Valentine.

It's Valentines day, and instead of grabbing expensive dinner on my way to Bootyville, I'm fighting over who is getting the last couch with my brother.

Yup, yup. I opted for taking a road trip with four dudes. For the sake of my ego, I'd like to now pretend there was a line of girls trying to get some of my love and affection for today, but I'm not feeling that creative today.

Don't get it twisted, I'm not in full fledge self loathing mode today. I probably could've found someone if I tried. But I didn't, so I remain chick-less.

The fact of the matter is I'm driving to Spo-compton tomorrow, so I can watch wrestling. And to be honest, right now, I'd rather do that then shell out for some meaningless date. It wouldn't go anywhere, I'm still a broke dude without a car.

It's simple math, chicks like cars and dudes that can pay for dinner. And untill two weeks from now( because I do have a big boy job again, but am still waiting for that awesome paycheck and I'm hopefully moving into an apartment in the next week or so), that equation still doesn't equal me. So it was for my own good that I opted to participate in this Brotherhood of the Traveling Sausage road trip ( I promise if there is anything to come from that I will write about it. It defenitly has the ingrediants for some wild shit).

Maybe next year it will be different.

As for this year, Valentines Day blows. It's nothing more then a cheap excuse for men to shell out money on their lady friend, and to remind the single dudes how big of a schmuck they really are. I'm now going to masturbate in my own tears and go to sleep in a room full of dudes.

Wow, I'm a champion of epic proportions.

A Gentleman with Steroid Needles.

Saturday started the same way many others had before it. With an urgent 8:00 am phone call from my brother. After realizing it was still three hours shy of my desired 11:00 wake up, I determined someone has to be dead for my brother to be stupid enough to call me AGAIN on a Saturay morning (Jesse is legendary for his evil call times. No joke, he is not affraid of 7 am phone calls just to shoot the shit).

"What do you want?" I answered as nicely as I possibly could. Ask anyone, before 10 am, and I am the physical form of all the worst parts of the Bible.

"DUDE! Have you read Espn yet?" I could feel the hate rising. Now let me state that if it were a normal time, like noon, I would've been able to politely say 'yes, I have' or ' you bet, brother of mine.' But again, it was 8 am on a Saturday. At that time I was balls deep in a glorious dream involving Jessica Alba, me, a pool table, 15 dollars, three sheep, four magi and strategically placed Grapes. Needless to say, it was very enjoyable and thoughts of espn shockingly had yet to enter my conciousness. But here was Jesse, asking if I had yet updated myself on my Saturday morning readings, to which I could only reply "no".

"Dude, A-Rod got busted for roids. It's on the front page." The blood had yet to return to my head, so it took a minute before everything registered. I got up and quickly fired up ESPN.com. Sure enough, Alex Rodriguez, resident sports pretty boy, and my arch nemises had tested positive in 2003 for PED. I was speechless.

Days later and I remain speechless.

I actually was hoping he would never get caught. I was hoping he would remain the clean superstar, but I always new it was a possibillity. I mean he was quick, strong, and built like a line backer. If I've learned one thing over the last few years, it's unless you're Ichiro (who is built like Prince) don't be suprised if they get busted for Performance Enhancers. Part of me was hoping he would eventually take over the all time HR record and take it back from the douche bag that is Barry Bonds.

Real quick, I need to say that the steroid era sucks. However, I don't think it's as big of a deal as we are making it. Most of the journalism in this country is directed towards how unfair this is to the old timers of the game that keeps it's legends in a prominant light. The beautiful thing about baseball is that it has remained the same game over the years (you know with the glaring exception that out fielders could step out of the batters box and on to the grid iron with out skipping a beat) so you can compare guys like Ken Griffey Jr to a Willie Mays. Sadly, those comparisons took a shot when the idea of steroids in Baseball became more then just a theory.

That being said, I don't feel as if the old timers are getting a raw deal like it's being reported. Yes steroids are used to enhance performance, but if everybody is using them shouldn't that mean that the playing field remains even? Ken Caminetti was the first face of steroid user in baseball. He said 80 percent of players (pitchers and hitters were using). That means even the crappy players, who were historically crappy, and were on steroids.

To clarify what I'm saying (sometimes I fear I ramble, and I don't want my point lost) Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, and Roger Clemens were on steroids. They were joined by many others. There is a list of a 103 names who tested positive in a survay in 03. It is true, Hank Aaron never used steroids. They weren't around for him. But he also never hard to face someone who was on steroids. Hitters and pitchers were both roiding. So I pose the question, is it really unfair if everyone is doing it?

Back to the fun! Much like any good scandle, the stories just keep coming. Though I'd rather have him with the All-Time HR record (the most hallowed record in sports), I am giggly to watch the man that left my beloved Mariners for a record 250 million dollar deal over a ten years for a division rival back in the fall of 2000, get sodomized by the media. It seriously tickles me pink.

The media has flipped on dime on him, and it's got me half mast. I haven't been this excited about a non game related story line in forever. I can't wait to hear his apology. I can't wait to read what my favorite sports writers feel about this. Especially Rick Riley, formerly of Sports Illustrated who now writes for ESPN.

I acutally enjoy Rileys work. He remains one of my favorite 5 sports writers. He seems to be genuine and at times can be critical when he feels he has to be. And I respect that. But by an act of unbelievable irony, I happened to pick up a Sports Illustrated this weekend while I was taking a dump. Like I always do, when I pick up vintage SI's I flip to the back to see what Riley was talking about for that issue. The title of the article was "A Gentleman In A Pinstripe Suite." And it was a well crafted fluff piece about Alex Rodriguez right after he joined the New York Yankees.
I mean this piece was nothing more then a written hand job to the self marketing giant that is A-Rod. It was gross.

But what excites me is to see if Riley says anything about it. He has been very critical of the confirmed steroid users (like Clemens and Bonds). But this editorial is full of these little points on what makes Alex Rodriguez such a good, yet boring guy. It was a complete 180 of a portrait of the man that we know to be A-Rod now.

He mentioned how A-Rod is family man, and a faithful husband. Except for the fact that he was involved in that messy Guy Ritchie Madona divorce, and last year had a photo documented affair with a stripper. What a guy.

It was said that he doesn't go out and party....unless you count the late night strip club runs.

And then there was my personal favorite. Riley said, when talking about how shocked he was the A-Rod "works on his game alot" he said and I quote "Your game? Hello? You were American League MVP last year! You've already got 383 career home runs, and you're not even 'roided up". IT's funny because he was roided up. HAHAHAHA.

Seriously, check out the article if you don't believe me: http://vault.sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1032493/3/index.htm

One thing is for sure, this going to be long and drawn out. We are going to see politician like spin work from A-Rod and his people. It's going to be like watching Picaso paint. It's going to be like watching Bob Dylan craft a song. We will eventually stop caring because this is going to be terribly tedious, and we're gonna get sick of it.

When that happens, just remember one thing taking everything that is said with a grain of sault, and a shot of penicilin.

And don't forget to laugh.

Michael Phelps

Big news today. Subway (as in the sandwich shop) has cut ties with it's biggest star-spokesperson. Can you guess who it was? No, it wasn't Jared. The correct guess actually is Michael Phelps. As in swimmer Michael Phelps. The same Michael Phelps that won 6 gold medals and 2 bronze in the Athens Olympics, then came right around and won 8 more gold medals in Beijing. I guess Subway felt that the Olympic Sports Icon is no longer a suitable candidate to promote five dollar foot longs.

Most of you, as I did this morning, probably asked the same thing. "Holy crapola, what did he do?" I mean it had to have been borderline OJ to get his sponsorship revoked, right? I mean this is a company who is not used to promoting Icons. It's not like they can cut Phelps and just make another commercial with someone like Kobe Bryant. This is a company who for years has been defined by a fat guy who aquired a cult-like popularity by losing a ton of weight walking to their stores and inhailing their sandwiches.

So Phelps had to have done something legendary, right? I mean, maybe not OJ level, but definitely somewhere around Barry Bonds.

Perhaps he didn't kill anyone, but maybe he did get caught for cheating. Olympic athletes get busted after the fact all the time, right Marion Jones? Maybe his name was getting brought up in Roid scandles, Lance Armstrong style. Or maybe, he pee'd on young under aged girls, was stupid enough to film it, and even more retarded to let it "leak" on the internet.

(unrelated rant: If you are doing something illegal, and you are of someone of fame, and you are stupid enough to film it-Please, for the love of all that is decent, KEEP THAT SHIT HIDDEN. Lock it in a safe. Stuff it in your underwear drawer. Treat it like you are 14 years old again and it is the porno magazine that you stole from your older cousin and don't want your mom to know about. Also, and R. Kelly this is directed towards you, you are rich, good looking, black man and a talented singer. Girls of all ages want to give you the good stuff. We are talking about the same creatures that volunteer to bang reality stars. You are a platinum singer. They should be lining up for you.

You could probably talk any girl into take a golden shower. So do us all a favor and pick one thats over 18. It's not tough. In fact it's probably easier because by that age most of them have silenced their sense of morality.

If you can't get over your need for 15 year olds, atleast have the common sense to have the little girl fill out a permission slip. Rant Over, back to Phelps)


Now what did the Gold Medalist do to lost his sandwich supporting credibility? He hit the bong.


Yes, over Superbowl weekend a photo surfaced of the 23 year old Olympian, apparently operating a Bong. Thats it. Thats all. Just a picture of him and a pretty piece of glass that is primarily used to roast happy grass.

What is the big deal? Sure, weed is illegal, but so is selling crack and Jay-Z has 10 albums about doing just that. Yet we still know that he LOVES his HP computer. Brandon Marshall, Wide Receiver for the Denver Broncos will be representing the AFC in the Pro Bowl on Sunday, despite missing a game this year for consistently getting in trouble for domestic violence. Isn't that special?

Or how about the fact that for the last 8 years we've had a president who is a reformed alcoholic, and has allegedly (and not denied, according to the New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/20/politics/20talk.html?_r=1) used cocaine in the past. According to the same article, our former president had been recorded saying things like he wouldn't answer the questions about marijuana usage during his presidency campaign because, "I don’t want some little kid doing what I tried.” AND HE BECAME OUR PRESIDENT!

But I digress. The thing is, Phelps has numerous sponsors, all of which got over it. Well except Subway and Kelloggs. Who have opted to take a moral high ground and cut ties with him all over a picture.

Couple things that wierd me out about this. One, we don't even know that it is weed he is smoking (stay with me here, my point is far fetched but I promise their is legitimacy in it). When you got purchase any type of smoking equpment, especially that of a bong, their is signage all around the stores that say "for Tobacco use only". Yes it is unlikely that someone would pay good money for a bong to smoke tobacco, it is possible. It is their "official" useage.

So I guess it is legal to buy a bong, but it is cause for termination to have a picture of you using it. Even though it has not be confirmed that it was used for illegal purposes? I think Kellogg and Subway are just assuming, maybe because once upon a time they were 23 and they too were participating in a photo opp with a tabacco intended smoking lamp. And maybe, just maybe their alligations are supported by their own experiences-making them hypocrites.

Second, I find it odd that SUBWAY of all companies would not want to be associated with this. Sure, it is not desired publicity. But when was the last time you walked into a Subway, and ordered a sandwhich from someone other then a red eyed, goofy talking 17 year old who smells like he has the Greatful Deads Greatest hits in the cd player of his 88 Honda Accord. Congratulations Subway, you just allianated half your employees and customers.

So lets recap: Jay-Z, former drug dealer, and allegedly involved in a club stabbing (SUPRISE). Who cares, HP sure doesn't. Robert Downy Jr, legendary drug addict and alcoholic. Shhh, don't tell Paramount, because they invested a billion dollar movie franchise in him.

Michael Phelps, 14 gold medals and still has one more Olympic competition left in him, but was photographed smoking from a bong and all of a sudden he is too morally suspect to tell us to eat sandwiches. I don't get it.

Heres what I do know, Quiznos and General Mills have a golden nug (pun intended) that has just fallen unto their laps. They can now spite the mortal enemies, Subway and Kelloggs by sponosring the Olympic hero. Four years from now, when Phelps goes for another 6 to 8 gold medals they can reap ALL the benifits.

Trust me Quiznos, Gerneral Mills. It's a wise investment. He is not a bad dude, in fact he is quite a good dude. He's just 23. Like me, and all my buddies he has flaws. Like all of us, he may make a bad decision. Who cares. He's freaking human.

Yeah he screwed up. It was not wise to get photographed with a bong in his position. It doesn't matter wether he was smoking gaunge or tobacco, the public has one association for that device. And for the rest of his competive career he will be a victim of public opinion. That being said, it's a breath of fresh air to see him own up to it though. Truly and inspiration.

And in my opinion that makes Michael Phelps a true American Hero.

Congrats Pittsburgh

I just want to take a little time out of your day to say congratulations to Pittsburgh Steelers for capturing another Super Bowl victory. The Cardinals played better then I had expected, but like so many times during the regular season, had no answers on defense.

Great game though. Nothing to be ashamed of, well unless you are a member of the Cardinals secondary. How you leave Santonio Holmes open the whole last drive when Heines Ward is completely broken and rather useless, is beyond me. They're main objective was to make sure they were permanently fixed in Holmes' ass. Sure it would've been awkward after the game when you're still stuck in his ass, but at least you would've had a Super Bowl ring to look at.

I'm not trying to make excuses for the Cardinals, and I'm certainly not trying to take anything away from the Steelers. I'm just asking for a common sense adjustment.

Also, congrats to Ben Rothlisberger. He isn't even 27 yet and has already a two time Super Bowl Champion. Many players go their whole career without hosting up the hardware at the end of the season  and now you've done it twice in four years.

I just hope to be employed by the time I'm 27.

Here is a quick list of Qb's with multiple wins: Elway, Montana, Bradshaw, Staubach, Aikman, Griese, Starr, Plunkett, Brady

Thats impressive company. It seems 2 Super Bowl wins seems to come with a ticket to the Hall of Fame (unless your Jim Plunkett).

All in all, it was a surprisingly entertaining game. It had everything you need. Comebacks, big plays, and a couple fist fights. But you wanna know the best part about it?  I still don't like both teams.

Suck on that Pittsburgh. You're still a bunch of thieving bastards.

Quick Notes from the game:

• Faith Hill gives me a boner. The American Idol chick does not. Canada 1, America 0.
  
• The pagentry of the Super Bowl is annoying. Roger Craig and Lynn Swann were standing on the field for the coin flip. WHY? What purpose does this serve? Are they there just in case the ref fucks up like that Thanksgiving game (oddly enough with the Steelers) and Bettis called  one thing, and the ref said he called another? If they have a sequal are the former NFL players out there to beat his ass? Thats the only acceptable answer.
• Kinda funny how Big Ben tried to scramble in on the exact same looking play that he scored with against the Hawks.  I find it Funny that this one was over turned, and the one against my Seahawks wasn't.  Actually, I'm joking. It's not funny at all.
• Somebody tell Pepsi Anthony Hamilton is not the modern day Bob Dylan. Thank you.
• James Harrison's TAINT (Bill Simmons reference to "Touchdown After an Interception") made me wet.
• If I were to write a blog listing the top Receivers in the NFL, the list would go like this "Larry Fitzgerald."
• Did anyone else notice that Kurt Warner obviously hid his real wife in the basement before the game. I've seen the real Mrs. Warner, she has a dike haircut. The Mrs. Warner they showed on Sunday was SERIOUSLY hurtin for a squirtin.
• I realized after I watched Big Ben hold up the Lombardi trophy on Sunday, that I'm still mad about the events of Black Sunday.