You Can Stuff Your Sorries in a Sack, Mister!

I was planning on regaling the Interwebs today with fantastic photos from a fantastically ugly ugly sweater party, but I accidentally got fantastically drunk at said party and forgot to take very many pictures. Fantastic!

Instead, I will do two things:

1) Say goodbye to my fantasy football team: “Touchdown My Pants.”

Some lessons learned during yet another 7th place finish in fantasy football:

A) Drafting Sweet Shaun Alexander #2 overall? Ouch.

B) Getting Matt Hasselballs in round two? Double ouch.

C) Chris Chambers? You will never be drafted by I again.

D) Bears D? You’re cool, if only to infuriate all of the Bears fans who are in my league. The fact that a Packers fan snagged the Bears D out from under them upset them to no end.

5) Laverneous Coles? Solid pick, but I have a really hard time spelling your name correctly. You should change it to Steve.

F) Todd Heap and Private First Class Winslow? My strategy of drafting two TEs helped once Alexander went down; unfortunately, I only got Cadillac Williams and Clock Killin’ Corey Dillon for Heap. Still, I’m sticking with my guns for next year.

R) Marty Booker? Hilarious name + Ginormous hands = solid pick.

H) Randy Moss, Willis McGahee, Eddie Kennison, Wali Lundy, and Joe Horn? While I don’t necessarily wish ill upon any of you, I would not be devastated if, say, a tree fell on your parked car.

The overall lesson I learned this year? Do NOT pick last years’ MVP in the first round, especially if said stud is sans a left tackle. Which leads me to leaving this note for next years fantasy owners – DON’T TAKE TOMLINSON. And if you do take LT (truthfully, I would too if given the chance, but I never do learn, do I?) please, for the love of all things Adam Wainwright, do not take Phillip Rivers, too. Having a QB-RB real life combo on your fantasy squad = nightmare.

I would sooner be ass raped by Marty Booker’s giant hands then go through the weekly hell which was having an Alexander/Hasselbeck combo on the same fanteezy squad (and yes, Marty Booker was my highest scoring non-Bears player and that’s why he gets two three mentions on the FYC today. That is how bad my squad was.)

Actually the real overall lesson here, learned for the sixth year in a row: I suck harder at Fantasy Football than Michael Bolton does at the gift of song. I should probably just stick to Fanteezy baseball (I sport which I actually follow), but I won’t. My addiction is blossoming into that all too familiar large cobra, and not only am I playing some fantasy NBA (yet another sport which I don’t follow), but I am gearing up for a year of fantasy golf (a sport that I really don’t follow).

In conclusion: Goodnight, Touchdown My Pants. At the very, very least, I chuckled whenever I told someone the name of my team. They, in turn, did not chuckle. But I did, and I’m all about number one here.

Suck it, bitches.

2) I keep forgetting this (not really) but the Cardinals just won the World Series. To remind you of the good times, here’s the recap of one of my favorite games: September 12th’s 6-5 win over the Astros. (click the link, then click on the Pujols' walk-off double button. It’s goose bump inducing.)

It was the game which drove the final nail into Poor Brad Lidge’s career (I’m fairly sure that Brad Lidge had his name changes to Poor Brad Lidge, so I’m going to roll with that from now on) and gave me hope for the month to come.

A hope which, if I remember correctly, was rewarded.

Hee hee.

PS - Bonus points if you can figure out how today's post title corresponds with today's post. Points may be redeemed at your local Lee's Chicken.

I was at that September 12th game, and when they put Lidge in, it was just destiny that Pujols was going to figure out a way to get an AB and destroy Lidge's soul.

And just to describe how much destiny wanted Pujols to get an AB, Lidge failed to get 3 outs facing J-Rod, Viscaino, Preston Wilson, and Scott Spiezio.
Sacks = football?
A friend of mine hosted an ugly sweater party a few years back. In honor of Bill Cosby, he served jell-o jiggler shots.
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