Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Meat Loaf was right...
...in his inherently wise musical proclamations (and I'm not talking about "Paradise by the Dashboard Light", although I can relate to that jam too). And God, Meat Loaf is a hot piece, for a long-haired proto-Jack Black wind machine aficionado who changed his name from Marvin Aday to Meat Loaf to enhance his a-little-bit-Dungeons-and-Dragons, a-little-bit-Hell's Angel, a little-bit-Grand-Ole-Opry mystique, anyway:
It's true that two out of three ain't bad. In spite of the sting of defeat related to my loss in the whole Dolphins-Patriots debacle, I have still been mostly winning. I was right about Jessica Simpson being the key to Tony Romo's downfall awhile back (and I know the Cowboys won this week in spite of a crowd of Panthers fans wearing the Jessica Simpson cutout masks being promoted by RuinRomo.com, but that had more to do with Marion Barber's 110 rushing yards than Tony's getting his shit together...Romo still threw an INT and I attribute that to Ms. Simpson being at the game in spite of the cameras not being able to spy her hideous and disgraceful pink jersey). I was also right about my prospects in the Columbia Ballers Fantasy League Ballers Bowl V!
Yes, bitches, I defeated the Js and the Ps (AKA the Bills of our league, as this is the third Fantasy Super Bowl he's lost) 92-80 to claim my first fantasy league championship. Now I am both league commissioner AND league champion, and I'm proud to say that I never once used my powers as commish (ability to fuck with draft orders, edit box scores, steal players from other teams, etc) to make this happen. Unlike those assholes in Shitsburgh, I don't need to cheat (or at least rely on some HIGHLY questionable officiating) to win a Super Bowl. That means I've got 250 clams coming my way, or, when converted to the currency of choice in Razzyland, 25 sixers of Heineken! I can simultaneously drown my sorrows about losing my Patriots-Dolphins bet to Benzo and celebrate the triumphs I have enjoyed. YESSSSSSS! Victory is sweet enough to make me forget about losing. Feel free to send me congratulatory sentiments and expressions of your awe and reverence at your leisure.
Yes, bitches, I defeated the Js and the Ps (AKA the Bills of our league, as this is the third Fantasy Super Bowl he's lost) 92-80 to claim my first fantasy league championship. Now I am both league commissioner AND league champion, and I'm proud to say that I never once used my powers as commish (ability to fuck with draft orders, edit box scores, steal players from other teams, etc) to make this happen. Unlike those assholes in Shitsburgh, I don't need to cheat (or at least rely on some HIGHLY questionable officiating) to win a Super Bowl. That means I've got 250 clams coming my way, or, when converted to the currency of choice in Razzyland, 25 sixers of Heineken! I can simultaneously drown my sorrows about losing my Patriots-Dolphins bet to Benzo and celebrate the triumphs I have enjoyed. YESSSSSSS! Victory is sweet enough to make me forget about losing. Feel free to send me congratulatory sentiments and expressions of your awe and reverence at your leisure.
Labels: Fantasia, I LOVE IT, NFL football, Razzification, Stealers suck
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