“Please just call me red-headed and forgive me.”

The Urban Dictionary entries for “ginger” are brilliant. These are my favorite snippets from the first 25. You may peruse the rest for other funny parts at your own leisure.

“Gingers” are generally considered to be inferior to their more melanin-rich brethren, and thus deservingly discriminated against. Gingers are thought to have no souls.

Carrot Top is a good example of why gingers should be discriminated against.

A rare natural hair colour which inspires odd and sometimes fearful reactions from the more common coloured hair types.

Rome also gave up on taking Ireland due to the number of redheads they saw there.

Women with ginger hair are greatly admired in the US yet feared in the UK.

Old ladies compliment you and ask where you bought your hair dye.

Nick names always come out of having red hair…Truly taste-less jokes come out of it, too.

All of you idiots that think we have no souls are a little retarded. I will have to agree with the short temper part though.

Jealous blonde: “Those darn gingers always get all of the attention.”

Guy: “Hey Ginger, what time is it?”
Ginger: “I’d say about half past a freckle.”

Contrary to contemporary theories (usually spouted by non-passport holding americans who couldn’t spot rhetoric if it slapped them in the face) Gingers have a larger soul than most, due to making their way through life in the face of abject hatred and moronic opinions. A proud member of the Celtic race who constantly punches above his/her wieght.

Semi-relatedly, what post about gingers is complete without an Anne of Green Gables  quote…

“You’d find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair,” said Anne reproachfully. “People who haven’t red hair don’t know what trouble is.”

Jason Segel’s Top 5 Sandwich List Is Weak Sauce

(Let me just preface this post by saying that I go through more PB&Js in a day than a daycare full of 4-year-olds goes through in a week and love all sandwiches almost equally. Disclaimer: I also obviously have a strong New Orleans bias.)

It really takes a lot for me to crawl out of my non-blogging hole, but this issue is pressing enough that I’ve taken it upon myself to publicly address it.

Last night, I was actively watching Letterman clips on YouTube while passively watching Genevieve renovate her house and be the bougie bitch that she is and I ended up at the recent one where Jason Segel and Dave talk about burritos, sandwiches, and the secrets to maximizing your Mexican restaurant experience. Maybe also other things, but I can’t remember any of them and they’re irrelevant to this post anyway.

His list was so bad that I have no idea how it didn’t spark yet another massive controversy. Jason Segel was like “Top 5 best sandwiches…” or whatever and I was like “Yesss, this is going to be the best list ever…” but I think I was too influenced by the fictional characters of Nick Andopolis and that guy he played in Knocked Up  and the guy he played in I Love You, Man (they all seem like they would thoroughly have their sandwich priorities straight, right?) because the list actually sucked. I think this was the moment I realized that celebrities are real and flawed people just like the rest of us.

The top 5 best sandwiches, according to Jason Segel:
– BLT
– Reuben
– Tuna Melt
– Grilled Cheese
– PB&J

(I didn’t number them because I don’t know if he was counting down or up)

The only thing that we agree on is the Reuben. While I truly enjoy all of those other ones wholeheartedly, are they the top 5 best sandwiches of all time ever? Fuck no. When have you ever eaten a tuna melt and been like “This is all I want to eat every day for the rest of my life”…? I guess it’s possible that I’ve just been eating all the wrong tuna melts for my entire life, but I doubt it.

The real top 5 best sandwiches:
1) Muffuletta
2) Pulled Pork
3) Reuben
4) Philly Cheesesteak
5) Avocado/Chickpea Salad Melt*

I wanted to add the caprese, but felt like the list wouldn’t be well-rounded with two Italian-based offerings.

Also, I didn’t add any po boys because we already had the muffuletta representing New Orleans. I also didn’t add the bahn mi because we eat so many of those here, too (and also you can’t have a well-rounded list with two pork sandwiches either). But, really, I can list no less than 5,000 sandwiches that New Orleans does damn well that are better than the ones Jason Segel picked.

Let me also just say that I did unfortunately pick cheesesteaks over Primanti’s (I’m so sorry to 50% of the people whom I love for that… it’s the only thing that Philly does better than Pittsburgh… but rest assured that I am well aware that the rest of the “comparable” things aren’t even close). And also that there’s a damn legit cheesesteak place in New Orleans, too. Did I move here for the sandwiches? I might have moved here for the sandwiches…

It also hurts to have left off the beef on weck (because roast beef and horseradish… duh) and the spiedie. I apologize to any of my WNY homies who feel that I’ve forsaken so much of my youth and upbringing.

I want to list like 800 other things that could have acceptably made Jason Segel’s list, but the point of this was just to list the real top 5 and express my disappointment. Now that I’ve said what I needed to say to explain my choices and keep people from raging against my list like I am against his, there’s nothing really left to discuss and to drag this out would be pointless.

To conclude, everyone who’s ever eaten a sandwich knows more about sandwiches than Jason Segel. But I don’t have anything against the guy. Anyone who cares enough about the Muppets to make a Muppet movie is automatically worthy of being admitted to my inner circle of well-respected people. I just think that his sandwich appreciation is lacking.

I am all about simplicity. Henry David Thoreau your life in all areas. Except when it comes to sandwiches. Don’t settle for a BLT. While delicious, you can do better.

*Recipe, sourced from various sources and compiled/improvised/perfected by me: 2 avocados, 1 can of chickpeas (or whatever the dried bulk equivalent is… and obviously rinse them first if you use the canned ones), 1/2 of a medium onion or so (finely chopped), some cilantro, a little pepper to taste, and a squirt of lime juice to taste (and a little salt if you didn’t use the canned variety of chickpeas). Mash that together ’til it’s smoothish and creamy (it’s okay if some of the chickpeas don’t get mashed… shit happens and 99% of the time you’re hungry and gotta eat ASAP). Spread that on one side each of two slices of bread (I use pumpernickel a lot bc it is obviously the best bread). On one slice, add some shredded cheese (preferably the Mexican blend kind w/ like cheddar and asadero and whatnot). Keep them separated and toast them in a toaster oven or a real oven until the bread is toasty and the cheese is melted. Squirt a spiral or zig-zag of Sriracha (NO OTHER PATTERNS WILL DO) on the cheesed side and add a couple tomato slices on the non-Sriracha-ed/non-cheesed side. Put the cheesed/Sriracha-ed side on top of the tomato-ed side and squish them together slightly. Cut in half diagonally. Bite. Chew. Feel like the sweet songs of angels on the inside (or the Tommy James and the Shondells Pandora station if you’re non-religious). Swallow. Repeat. If you’re not sold, look at this pic.

Protected: Fall 2009: The Year I Acquired No Less Than 500 Roommate Horror Stories

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Password:

College Basketball Is My Boyfriend

In case you missed it, St. Bonaventure beat St. Louis with one hell of a buzzer beater.

That moment led me to conclude a few things.

1) I should have gone to St. Bonaventure. Yes, I would have been going to college 45 minutes away from home and with kids from my high school, but in terms of what really matters (i.e. college basketball), it would have been a better decision. The Bonnies consistently overperform in March and Pitt consistently shits the bed. But then again… would I trade those moments in the Zoo for anything? Definitely not. I just reached a different conclusion while typing this. That’s been a theme in my posts which is why I don’t write them anymore. Start out saying one thing –> end up saying something totally different.

The best moments of my life were those in the Oakland Zoo during tight games when Pitt pulled it off. There really aren’t words to adequately describe that sheer happiness or universality you feel with everyone else that’s there with you. And college basketball is my #1 favorite sport to watch so of course it always felt super epic.
– Various and Sundry, 1/14/12

2) No man will ever be able to make me feel like college basketball makes me feel.

And buzzer beaters are absolutely without a doubt the #1 best thing about sports. Fuck grand slams at the bottom of the ninth and completed Hail Marys and all that other epic sports stuff. To see a last ditch three pointer go in at the last second gives you a feeling that no other sports moment can. The energy is different. I can’t explain it. I guess at first you’re happy that he got the shot off then you’re in agonizing anticipation after the release when you watch it in the air and then you see it go in and then YOUR SOUL SCREAMS WITH JOY. Or in the opposite circumstance you’re like “Oh, SHIT… he got the shot off” then agonizing anticipation when it’s in the air then you feel VIOLENT PAIN when it goes in. I fall off my couch from happiness and pain at least 20 times during the tournament. I collapse on the floor at least 5 times
– If You Really Want Some Hot Water, I Can Help You Find It, 3/9/12

I guess I have to add kind of an addendum to that since times have changed a bit. The only other thing that makes me feel the way college basketball makes me feel is a clutch soccer goal during a World Cup qualifier game or World Cup actual game. USA v Jamaica, anyone? I lost my motherfucking shit in a bar full of people equally losing their motherfucking shit. No person has ever made me THAT happy or feel THAT way.

Also, that Donovan goal… I think my heart races every time I think about it.

The first millisecond of explosive joy in moments of clutch victories just isn’t comparable to anything outside of sports, in my opinion. I feel like something is sociopathically wrong with me for feeling this way.

I think maybe I would feel differently if I met a person who feels the same way about the things that make me that happy. Because, honestly, one of the saddest things about being alone is not having anyone to share those moments of losing your motherfucking shit with. Like, maybe this is me being all day-dreamy and stupid, but just being on the same page in your happiest moments and feeling the same way about the same things and looking at the person next to you and knowing that they’re going nuts just like you are sounds kind of like everything I’ve ever wanted.

Maybe it’s not about finding a person who makes you feel like a buzzer beater happiness explosion inside. Maybe it’s just about finding a person who feels a buzzer beater happiness explosion along with you. Happiness comes from within and it’s an individual thing, so maybe love is just about finding someone to share that happiness with and not about finding someone who gives you that happiness. This makes sense, right?

Essentially, I just want a person to make me feel like a buzzer beater on the inside and I’m not sure if that’s possible so maybe a solid alternative would be simultaneously feeling the same way about an actual buzzer beater together.

(I can’t tell you how many sports and science metaphors and examples I had to use in therapy to be able to explain how I feel about things. It’s like my subconscious can’t come to the surface unless it’s through the framework of molecular biology or college basketball with a little calculus thrown in here and there.)

The 28th Amendment

So, there’s a 28th Amendment post going around on Facebook. I haven’t seen it (because I frequently go on Facebook friend purging rampages and delete all the people I’m never going to see again so I have less than 200 friends), but apparently people post a picture of 28th Amendment and then write captions like “I guess we’re ignoring this one.”

The kicker is that there is no 28th Amendment (duh).

This is what the fake 28th Amendment says:

Congress shall make no law that applies to the citizens of the United States that does not apply equally to the Senators or Representatives, and Congress shall make no law that applies to the Senators or Representatives that does not apply equally to the citizens of the United States.

Oh, god.

I’m not sure if we should blame mass hysteria or our subpar education system for this (it could be a little bit of both), but the whole thing is somewhat appalling.

That amendment is so stupid it makes my head hurt. It actually makes my head hurt. The ass hat(s) who came up with this however long ago for whatever reason (Snopes as more details about the history, if you’re interested) couldn’t even write it well. I get what it’s trying to say and I get why people would be vulnerable to believing this is real right now, but goddammit, every time I think about its existence, I cringe down to the very bottom of my soul.

In theory, the internet could make us more intelligent and informed because we have ridiculously easy access to a plethora of information, ideas, opinions, etc. However, I really think it’s having the opposite effect.

Maybe I’m being too harsh though. I don’t know. Maybe it’s good that people seem to care right now, even if they’re misinformed. Caring is probably the first step. But maybe the “whatever” attitude is also a shitty one to have because accepting mediocrity and becoming totally complacent obviously won’t help solve any problems.

Regardless, God bless America. I will sink with this ship until the end.

I probably sound like an overeducated asshole right now. And that’s because I am an overeducated asshole. But I might be one of those overeducated assholes who feels compelled to change my career intentions for the third time since graduating from college and take the pay cut and become a social studies teacher.

The last time I had this inclination was August when I donated to that Reddit teacher exchange thing where people buy supplies for teachers who don’t have the budget to get everything they need. One elementary teacher was like “My classroom budget for the whole year is $90 and my kids are too poor to buy crayons with the frequency they need them” and a middle school math teacher just wanted a huge supply of graph paper and so on and so on.

I just think it’s shitty that in this super rich country, we can’t give teachers enough money to buy the crayons and graph paper that their kids need.

Not only do teachers not make a lot of money for the hours they put into this shit, but they also spend a lot of their money on stuff that their kids need. That’s fucking horseshit.

And this is about to become a rant about the whole state of education right now, so I’ll nip it in the bud because that’s pretty off topic and everyone has already heard me rant about this over and over so it’s basically beating a dead horse at this point anyway.

TL;DR… People are ridiculous, but it’s not entirely their fault. I’m disgruntled about everything as per usual. The end.

I Have No Idea Why Caffeine Is Not A Schedule 1 Drug

Disclaimer: All the coffee I pumped into myself that I thought wasn’t working just hit me like a freight train all at once and is therefore responsible for this off-schedule post. I also skipped my runs today and yesterday because I was exhausted and then also Tuesday because I was hungover. Three missed runs is basically the equivalent of keeping a border collie in a crate for 12 hours. It’s a disaster. Border collies are my spirit animal. We have a lot in common. I almost want to buy a house with a lot of land and pecan trees in Baldwin County, AL so I can get one. And also so I can go to the beach a lot. #landlockedblues

For the last 12 months or so, I’ve really been like “Ehh, am I really going to have kids? I’m pretty happy without them,” and the scale has been tipping more in favor of not having them someday than having them someday.

However, there are those rare occasions when someone posts something like this on the internet and I realize that I’m probably going to have four of them.

So, then I have to start thinking about “Who am I going to have them with?”

I know it’s kind of problematic to generalize because approaching things without an open-mind can be really limiting and you could miss out on something/someone awesome. However, without generalizations, we effectively have no experience. Sort of. That’s just how your brain works though. You encounter things, your brain processes them, then it categorizes them for easy storage purposes. We just don’t really hang on to isolated events that often.

So, in trying to solve this problem, I went straight to my brain data and mapped out the general experiences I’ve had with the 7 biggest career categories of people I’ve dated in the last 12 months.

You can’t argue with science. Even if it’s super fake science.

I have a general progression of hanging out with people of the opposite sex in one-on-one in dating-type outings or innings (or whatever word you’d use for hanging out at one of your houses/apartments). I don’t know if you can really call them dates because I never intend for them to be anything other than super casual non-committal experiences, but I really don’t know how to label this another way. You people know what I’m talking about. That’s all that matters. Not real dates. Liz dates. Got it? Okay.

Here’s the progression:

– We have nothing in common
– NVM, we have a lot in common
– This is pretty fun
– You’re kind of annoying
– I fucking hate you
– I love you

It’s totally maladaptive probably, but I can’t change it. It is what it is. And only one person ever has made it to the last stage which is unfortunate because, as we all know, it ended up being a relatively terrible three year period of my life. And, for the record, I’m not totally convinced that that the “I love you” part is correctly placed in the sequence here because I’ve only had one experience with it, but this is fake science so who cares?

Anyway… I made this terrible/confusing graph with MS Paint (where ALL my awesome graphs come from) to visually represent my general experiences with these 7 categories of men. I know it’s shitty to categorize people based on their careers, but I swear there are patterns.

(You can click on the graph to see a bigger version if it’s too tiny for your weak eyes to read. I also forgot to add the physician plateau at the end. It should be right underneath the attorney plateau because trust me, that physician upward trend does NOT continue into the love stage unless I subconsciously intentionally forgot to add the plateau part. The math one also continues the up and down pattern forever.)

It looks like I may never love an engineer or a web developer, but we’d probably get along all right… at least well enough to have some kids together. And maybe I don’t want my marriage to be about crazy passionate love. I’m really all about stability/compatibility. I don’t wanna marry someone I’m head-over-heels crazy about. On a general level, all I need is something that’s decently enjoyable with a guy who’s reasonably attractive to me and wants the same things from life that I want. I’m not into this fairytale BS. Maybe my version IS real love though.

I could also be either super bitter and don’t know it or super naive at the really old age of 26. It’s hard to tell. I guess those two things aren’t really mutually exclusive either.

Also, for the record, I don’t hate lawyers and doctors. I just think that two people who both have similar characteristics of the narcissistic God complex variety should never be together.

Snow > Cockroaches

Every apartment I move into, I layer Raid on the doorway like I’m preparing for Passover. Godspeed, Liz. I’ll remember you fondly.
– Kelsey

There was a cockroach in my kitchen tonight and I was all alone because my roommates were asleep. Thankfully, the New Orleans ones seem to be about half the size of the Mobile ones and the cleaning supplies happened to be between me and the cockroach this time so I could grab something with ammonia and kill it, but I’m still seriously questioning why I voluntarily moved move this godforsaken place called the Gulf Coast.

If you have an OCD-level clean roommate and still somehow get a cockroach in your third floor apartment, you will probably never feel safe anywhere ever again. I know I won’t.

I’m pretty sure now I have to update my list of boyfriend/husband minimum requirements because I honestly didn’t think that having a cockroach in an apartment like this was possible and I just assumed that I’d always be able to find safe places to live.

#11: A potential boyfriend/husband must have grown up in a southern state and therefore have encountered enough medium- to large-sized cockroaches in his formative years to not be afraid of them whatsoever and therefore be willing to fiercely kill all of them on demand.

There is also nothing hotter than a guy saving your life in a badass super masculine way, so the boyfriend/husband will of course be rewarded handsomely. 😉

I can think of about 10 hyperfeminists who would totally call me out for wanting to be rescued, but if my options are to either let my gender down and set us back 200 years or continue to kill cockroaches by myself for the rest of my life, I’m totally going with the latter because, quite frankly, I am sick of this cockroach shit. Sorry, ladies. I will never ever ever be able to not totally freak out when I see one.

I’ve only encountered one in my apartment and one outside since moving here, which is considerably less frequent than what I experienced in Alabama. I seriously think that Mobile has an official Cockroach Welcome Wagon for kids that move from up north.

One crawled out of my bathtub drain while I was brushing my teeth on like day two of living there and I had literally NO idea what to do about it. I think I cried. I’m not overexaggerating for once. I really think I cried. Then I filled up the bucket I had recently used while deep cleaning the bathroom in order to get it up to my super high bathroom cleanliness standards and washed the cockroach back down the drain (thank the heavens there was enough water and my sneak attack was fast enough that it couldn’t crawl up the sides of the bathtub because I had no backup plan), put the bucket over the drain, filled it back up with water so the cockroach couldn’t tip it over from underneath and escape, then Drano-ed the drain the next morning. It worked… I think.

If that cockroach did outsmart me and entered my apartment that night, I’m really glad I never had to know about it. Maybe it came into my room and crawled on my face in my sleep like I’m pretty convinced the dead one I found in my hamper that one day a few months later must have done before it died. I don’t know. I’ll never know. I’m happier not knowing.

Anyway, since that first cockroach encounter was eons ago and I’m a pro at this now, I broke it down for yinz….

The 6-9 Stages of Seeing a Cockroach in Your Kitchen and Dealing (or Trying to Deal) With It

1) Experience total body numbness while your life flashes before your eyes and your sympathetic nervous system kicks in, somehow causing your body to back the fuck up and jump around enough to save your life
2) Panic from a safe distance while you mentally review all known cockroach killing methods and scan the scene for whatever potential weaponry is available to you based on the positions of yourself and the cockroach
3) Prioritize kill methods based on effectiveness and proximity while you make noise with your feet any time it moves to scare it enough to stop moving again
4) Pump yourself up and GO FOR IT. Yeah!
5) Regret that you didn’t live life more fully while you spend several minutes trying to kill it, knowing that it will probably win and you will probably die
6a) If it has escaped: Wish you were dead and realize that you won’t sleep soundly ever again until you move
6b) If you were successful: Stand still for a minimum of 20 minutes from a safe distance while you wait to see if it moves. If it moves, select your next option from step 3. Repeat steps 4 & 5

If 6b…

7) Muster up the courage to approach it then grab at least five paper towels (which is the minimum acceptable hand-to-roach barrier… 10+ paper towels is better) to surround it while you pick it up and throw it away
8) Stand still for a minimum of 20 minutes from a safe distance while you see if it moves in the garbage can. If it moves, approach the garbage area with your weapon(s) then attack again while simultaneously closing and tying the bag as fast as possible. If it doesn’t move, cover it with another paper towel so you never have to see it again
9) Sit around for hours thinking about every potentially unfortunate decision you made in the kitchen for the entirety of your residency at the location. That time last week when you ate the peanut M&M off the floor after it had been there way longer than 5 seconds? SO MUCH REGRET

If you’re wondering why I don’t skip step 8 and flush them instead, it’s because they can’t drown. Mythbusters proved it. I trust those guys.

If you flush cockroaches, you risk them re-infesting your house and the second time around, they have a serious vendetta against you and dirty poop water on them. No thanks. I prefer to watch them with my eyes until I can confirm that they will never move again.

Things That I’m Obsessed With: Tiny House Edition

Disclaimer: I’m way too hungover to blog about the last three days in sports and fantasy football. It would be a long/involved post. I feel nauseous when I think about writing all of that. This is all you get today. Blame the Pirates ❤ (I still don’t think this has totally sunk in yet, by the way. However, if you don’t count blackout drunk hours as life hours, I’ve really only had like six hours to process this so far.)

Re-reading Walden was the worst thing that has ever happened to my sanity. The whole environmentally/ethically conscious thing is a really slippery slope. Flexitarianism is working out really well so I’m more than enthusiastic about making other positive lifestyle changes.

I really feel like this particular tiny house obsession was situationally created by the fact that I feel like biggest asshole for just having purchased a pair of mirror aviator sunglasses… They make me look like a ginger version of this (but with a better face and better clothes/hair):

I put them on and I’m like “I AM SO COOL, but in a douchebag way. And I also look like the bad guy in Cool Hand Luke.” (No, but seriously, I’m the baddest boss bitch in them and they’re awesome)

In life, there needs to be balance though, so I’ve found this tiny house thing to mentally attach my hopes and dreams to right now. I just want to live simply and grow a lot of my own food and not have a lot of fancy possessions. I’ve kind of always wanted that though. These sunglasses are a fluke. Maybe. I also really want the iPhone 5c. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Anyway, you can either get one that’s mobile or you can get one that’s permanent. I’m all about the permanent variety. Anything that you can tow with a truck  is too small for me to consider as actual daily living space. I would love to live my life on the road, but not like that.

Tumbleweed Houses seems to have the most popular options for permanent establishments. I’m basically IN LOVE with the Whidbey plan. 557 square feet plus loft space. I would totally do the two small lofts instead of one big loft and have an open kitchen/dining/living area.

Thanks to a solid run yesterday, I have now found the lot I would buy in my neighborhood if I was going to build this house. Then I came home and got the lot square footage from Zillow, mathed the dimensions via Google Maps, and priced solar panels for the self-sustainable part. Then I mentally picked out a paint color for the sides and door of the house, placed all my current and future furniture in the layout, decorated the interior, and planned where my driveway, carport, and garden would go.

Provided that New Orleans doesn’t have a stupid thing about square footage in their building code or that my house meets the minimum standard if they do, this is happening at some point.

It would be the ultimate bachelorette pad and my dog would have ample space for play time. The front room would be my office. The back room would have access to the outside and be my laundry/sewing room and also probably be where I kept all the shit that I canned since the kitchen doesn’t really have a ton of space. One loft would be my bedroom. The other loft would be my closet. DREAM LIFE.

I’m reverting back to the period of my life – circa 1995, probably – when I wanted to be an architect and drew nothing but dream houses (and three story dream treehouses with kitchens and bedrooms for all my friends) for approximately a year. Somewhere, there are notebooks full of floor plans done by an eight year old. I don’t actually draw the floor plans anymore. I just find other people’s and mentally accessorize them and then imagine what my life would be like in them. I’m crazy… actually crazy.

Add this tiny house thing to the list of pipe dreams. I do have a pretty high pipe dream realization rate, though. At least 50% of this shit comes true eventually at some point.

My Heart Flew Too Close To The Sun

I had high hopes for this evening.

The Buccos were going to get their 82nd win and end 21 years of sucking. The USMNT was going to continue their hot streak and win another qualifier and potentially clinch their World Cup spot.

I proclaimed that if these two events occurred, it was going to end up being the best 27ish hours of sports I’d ever experienced in my life.

Typical Icarus.

At least Mexico lost.

Also, there were a decent amount of Hondurans and Mexicans watching their game at my soccer pub. In terms of freak out levels, 1 Honduran = 50 Americans. So, that was cool, too. I was happy for them. I also realized that we need to get with it, people. We’re not nearly crazy enough when our team scores goals.

All of these new posts are basically going to be about sports. I really care about nothing else anymore.

Being single is kind of a sport so I guess I can mention that, too.

Some guy tried to hit on me tonight and he kinda looked like a Backstreet Boy because his hair and outfit were perfect in a metro douchey way. In my head, I was like, “You are at a soccer pub and I am a girl wearing a jersey. How do you think this is going to pan out for you?” At least he tried, I guess.

I seriously wish all the dorky/nerdy guys didn’t stay at home as much because I sure would like to meet them.

This Is My Year

Remember when I said that one man can only do so much? Apparently, I was wrong.

I love Peyton Manning more than burritos. I probably love him more than air.

Oh, and for the record, I dumped Baltimore’s defense before the game because that was a poor choice that I knew wasn’t going to ever pay off. I’m back with the week-to-week strategy for now.

Also, all you people who didn’t start Wes Welker can go cry yourself to sleep… especially if you started Eric “Butterfingers” Decker instead. To be fair though, we all thought it was gonna be more of a New Orleans situation where the ball gets spread around a lot (and I still think that’s what will end up happening in future games), so it was a tough call.

And I will admit that I was kind of wrong about Torrey Smith.  He only got .10 points less for me than he was projected to, but I really thought he was gonna have at least one TD and way more receptions. The guy who filled in for Champ Bailey was SOLID. I’m sorry about what I said regarding Denver’s defense. They’re not actually that big of a mess.

Finally… Danny Trevathan. HILARIOUS. But I’m really sorry that that other guy got hurt because of it. I’m also sorry that I obviously don’t know the names of anyone who plays for Denver.

Anyway, that game was damn entertaining. Today was like Christmas. And Christmas did not disappoint. (Although, never does though unless you’re a selfish/high-maintenance person with no soul or you don’t have a family or close friends, in which case, I will happily add you to the list of my family/friends and you can have Christmas with me!)

But the BEST part about this was not the fantasy points… it was absolutely 100% the fact that the Ravens got CRUSHED. Aside from a Steelers win, nothing makes me happier.

It’s gonna be a good year. I can feel it.

PS – For you non-Facebook folks, I finally got my 4F trophy pic together.

The gif never panned out because I couldn’t find what I needed for it and I refused to compromise on the vision. I pulled this idea together about 2 hours before it was due and I’m pretty content with how it turned out for what I put into it. “No minute like the last minute,” I always say.