Well you walk into a restaurant,
Strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you
As you’re shakin’ off the cold
You pretend it doesn’t bother you
But you just want to explode
Lonely horn riff.
Looking back, we did indeed live in charmed times. At one time it appeared that the Brewers would win the World Series, the Badgers would waltz into the National Championship, and Packers would go undefeated and bring home another Super Bowl. One by one those items came off the table, and we looked with longing eyes to the next on the list. By the time we got down to the just the Packers it was no sweat: that was the one we were most sure of.
Apologies to everyone at the party for my abrupt departure; I needed to go somewhere and throw heavy weights around to get my mind off of all the blowjobs those men-in-suits-talking-about-sports were gonna give Eli “Mushroomhead” Manning. My therapy worked fairly well– I worked out real hard and then almost couldn’t walk afterwards.
This would normally be the space where I triumphantly announce that it’s only one month until pitchers and catchers report (Feb 19!) except that with the whole Ryan-Braun-injecting-crushed-up-Flintstones-vitamins-directly-into-his-balls cloud hanging over the Brewers I’m not sure how excited to get about even that. Sorry, didn’t mean to turn this post into a downer.
Hey, next week is wwhazz’s millionth birthday. Let’s all go play air hockey at Union South! LET’S EAT GRANDMA!