Clareified

Last week the Jets game was scheduled for 1 p.m. I wake up this morning and find out they’ve moved it back THREE HOURS. So the Jets will know if they still have something to play for come kickoff against the dreaded Dolphins. BULLHONKY.
But whatever. Let the babies have their bottle. If they want to choke against Pennington, so be it. Now I can fully concentrate on Matt Cassel and my Riots at 1 and well, gulp, if things go poorly, I will never have to sully my good name by rooting for the, gulp, blech, itch, Jets. (Seriously, just had to scratch my arm…I might have an actual rooting for the Jets allergy…MY BACK just itched that time! Now my head! And back to my arm.)
(OMG watching an interview with Caroline Kennedy on NY1. SHE SOUNDS LIKE A MORON. That said, should she be the New York Junior Senator from New York, I wholly support her stooopid retarded asss. What happened to “Schlossberg,” anyway? Oh man, I hope Senator Clinton doesn’t get confirmed. That would SO teach them!)
But anyway, back to the Patriots. MY New England Patriots. What a year it’s been for both us.
We had our faces bashed in and royally humiliated in February. Got our fucking organs ripped out of our bodies this Summer AND YET we’re still standing. We stand at the presipice, helmed by an unlikely backup quarterback, who surprises us almost every time we see him. Sure, sometimes we are surpised by just how much he isn’t our original pick for the job, but most days we are stunned with the grace and pluck and well, AWESOMENESS he shows out there. And we thank our lucky stars that we have him…for however long we will continue to have him. Hey, I’m not gonna lie, we do think we’ve come to love him, but he’ll never be our Number 1 and he knows it. No one can hate on him if he leaves us for someone who isn’t constantly checking the doorway to see if Number 12 is back. TFB. But alas, I’m reminded of the wisdom of Kung Fu Panda: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, all we have is the gift of today, that’s why it’s called the present.
We must win today. We must beat the Bills. And I know that sounds like a ridiculous thing to feel like we have to say. Of course, we’ll beat the Bills, right? Wrong! Focus people. Get through the Bills, and then we’ll deal with all the rest of it. But if it is over for the Pats today, know that we’ll be back. We’ve lost heartbreaking Superbowls before, we’ve lost our one and only magical quarterbacks before, we’ve have traitorous traitors walk out on us before, and we survived. We congratulate the winners, say our thank you and goodbyes, spit at Vinatieri, as necessary, but we survive. We will again.
I now turn this post over, to the one, the only, the man with the plan: Paul Fitzy Fitzgerald!

Christmas happened – and I don’t care!

Teixiera signed with the Yanks – and I don’t care!

A team could go 0-16 Sunday…and I don’t care!

I just got a Blu-Ray player AND Guitar Hero: World Tour for gifts, both of which give me super-nerd stiffies and yet remain unopened…and I don’t care!

Rumor has it TFB got engaged – and I don’t care!

IT’S ALL ABOUT SUNDAY AT 1PM, peoples.

Then maybe 4. But the mathemagenius in me says first comes 1.

The Pats HAVE to win in Buffalo before any of these other wacky playoff scenarios can come to be. So no talking about the Jets, or the Jags, both of which we hope to be fans of come 4 in the PM. HOPE.

We don’t have Jack, Shit or their friends to worry about if the Pats don’t win in Buffalo, a team and city that would relish knocking the reigning division champs and their hated rival from the playoff picture (lest we forget Buffalo plays host to the radio show Shred and Ragan who had the “Best Bust of Bernard Pollard” contest…these sugar-frosted fuckwits.) Misery loves company, but I’m too in the mood for January football to hang with the Bills and whoever else ain’t going to the playoff dance. And don’t even get me started on the kinda “straight till spring training” shithouse kinda mood I’ll be in if the Pats lose, or go 11-5 and still miss the playoff. Moral victories SCHMORAL DICKTORIES! They’re playing too damn well to start playing my Guitar Hero and watching my Blu-Ray!

SO, root your balls off…scream your brains out…drink your face off…do whatever you have to do from wherever you have to be in whatever lucky pair of underpants you need to be in to help will the Pats to victory. THEN we can all temporarily switch allegiances and feel fahked up about actually saying “Go Jags!” or “C’mon Favre!” Seriously, the “Pennington comes to NYC and has the chance to knock the Jets from the playoffs after they dumped his ass for Olde Man Favre” story is super cool, great drama and all. But just not now, with all we have on the line. Unless the Jags can pull their head outta their dismal season asses for the day. Against the Ravens. Which sounds really improbable. About as probable as me seeing “Marley and Me”. So yeah, be pro-Jets-ready. But we gotta make sure White Cassel and crew have the chance to cheer for Eric Mangini’s team (vomit-on-keyboard-sound) first.

COOOOMMMEEEE OOOOOONNNNNNNNN CCCCAAASSSSEEELLLLLLLLL!!!!!! YYYOU’REE THE MAN!!!

No idea why.

But she also thinks this reminds her of me.

And this

And a bunch of stuff from this girl

So, you know, she’s a little wee in the head. And Karol is bossy.

Dawn just learned that buyer’s remorse doesn’t mean you can take back your ebay bid. D’oh.

I need this.

Love,

Dawn.

In inviting me to your wedding, it really helps your case to direct me to casinos nearest to your nuptial locations.

Well done, my friend, well done.

I defy you there to be a dry eye in the house at the end of Fred Claus! DEFY.

Burn after reading: is bad until it gets good and then ends okay.

Mamma Mia: Almost like the musical except without the dancing in the aisles. Unless you’re into aisle dancing in your living room. Which I am. So, it’s just like the musical.

Kung Fu Panda: kicked ass. HAHAHHA, I wasn’t even trying to make a pun there! I’m awesome! And there’s no charge for awesomeness. You’re welcome.

Horton Hears a Who: was spectacularly dumb. I mean, if they didn’t know they were a speck why were they saying help when Horton originally hears them? And why didn’t the vulture just eat the clove and redigest it like he promised? Oh, and it just happens that the one boy is mayor AND the creative genius in the family? Fuck you. Thaaaat’s right. Fuck Dr.Seuss and his sexist bullshit story.

X-Files: No need to repeat what I’ve already said. Fuck them too.

Hellboy II: GAWD HAWFUL. It’s like that new Guns n Roses album. Sucktacular. Not even the effects make this movie bearable. You basically root for anything or everything to kill Hellboy and his stupid band of merry misfits.

Wanted: Best opening two minutes of a movie that I’ve seen in a long time. Good rest of the movie too, despite the ever annoying Senorita pouty lips.

They cut the song Mamma Mia out of the movie *Mamma Mia*????

Bad santa kills eight and self.

A South Philadelphia man enraged because a father and son were talking during a Christmas showing of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button took care of the situation when he pulled a .380-caliber gun and shot the father, police said.

James Joseph Cialella Jr., 29, of the 1900 block of Hollywood Street is charged with attempted murder, aggravated assault, and weapons violations.

Man shoots man for talking during movie.

Sure that person had to listen to a twenty minute lecture on reponsibility, but still!