An email from Stoner Chick, who is unable to make the picks this weekend because she is gallivanting around New Port Richey, trying to help her sister find a house.
Hey all, how is everybody doing? I sure hope everyone is fine, especially you guys in the North. I've been watching The Weather Channel a lot lately because I've been working a lot of day shifts and all the tourists and snowbirds love to come into my bar, watch TV and learn about the crappy weather they're missing. Then, they call their friends in their hometowns and rub it in. I used to really hate tourists and yankees but now I loathe them with every fiber of my being. One old guy even tried to get me to go back to Michigan with him because he said he was really rich and recently divorced. I thought it odd that a really rich guy would drink draft beer but I played along until I got my tip.
Anyway, Nate was kind enough to give me a book on writing because I'm thinking about writing a front page for PIC and I've been thumbing through it and it's really boring and over my head, so I'll probably just give it back to him. I don't think I'll have a problem finding my own writing style and PIC has editors, right?
I guess this post is supposed to be about football but Nate never emailed me the point spreads so I'm not picking any games this week. But I do want to help a lot of you guys out there. I've read over Nate's columns on PIC and I noticed that most of them seem to be about women and I think it's time to flip the script. So the following are the five kinds of men that I really hate.
The Whatever You Want to Do Guy. This is the guy who never knows where he wants to go or what he wants to do. He always says that he'll do whatever I want to do. But there's a reason why we women ask you what you want to do. We want to know what kind of person you are and see if the things you like to do will jibe with what we like to do. Guys without their own opinions suck and take forever to figure out and usually aren't worth the trouble anyway.
The Girlie Guy. This is the guy who has opinions on our clothing and hair that are way too informed and almost like something chicks would say. This guy always creeps me out because I never realize he's the girlie guy until I see a dress or shoes that I like and I think, “Wow, I should call the Girlie Guy and see what he thinks of these flats.” I shudder just thinking about him.
The Thick Accent Guy. I hate thick accents. Even if they're southern. Really thick accents just scream, “I am the type of guy who will go to prison!” I especially hate thick urban accents and Boston accents.
The Too Much Jewelry Guy. This guy always smells like too much cologne and looks like a gold studded hairball. I like my men more natural.
The Guy Who Won't Put Out. This is the guy that seems interested in you and then invents excuses why you can't have sex with him and makes you think there's something wrong with you. I really hate the guy who won't put out because he makes me feel ugly or stupid or just plain weird. I hope this guy rots in hell.
Those are my five least favorite guys and I see them almost everyday because I work in a bar in South Tampa where everyone thinks they're super rich even though they have to pay for drinks with credit cards and hardly ever wear silk.
I'm sorry I can't be there for the picks and I hope you guys enjoy all the games.
Hugs and Kisses,
Stoner Chick.
Gotta love the ole Stoner Chick.
On to the picks. Home teams in CAPS.
Saints (+21/2) over BEARS
For the first ten weeks of the season, I eagerly anticipated the obligatory Rex Grossman season ending injury, and well, we never got it. But you know, the cosmos can only handle so many absurdities in a single year, and that is why I am coming to believe that in lieu of Rex's obligatory injury, he has been cursed. I'm expecting to see (backup QB) Brian Griese in this game at some point (probably after Grossman's fourth, first-half interception) but here's what I'm really looking forward to: unnecessary Katrina hype.
Once the Saints make the Super Bowl, there will be so many feel-good/feel-bad/inspirational/devastatingly-heartbreaking stories coming out of New Orleans that you're gonna think the Saints changed their name to the New Orleans George Bush Doesn't Care about Black Peoples. And I for one can't wait.
And, if by some miracle of miracles, Rex Grossman decides not to give the game away and the Bears end up going to the Super Bowl, well then it's time to beef up the “Hey, the Bears have a black head coach” angle. I love this angle because it proves that we as a culture have a long way to go before we'll have effectively rid the general populous of racism. I mean, one of these days, we'll have to get past the whole “first black man to do something” angle and just start treating people like people. I mean, no one's going around stating that Lovie Smith could become the shortest coach to win the Super Bowl because that would be rude (even if short people everywhere could take pride in knowing that one of theirs led a team to a Super Bowl Championship) so why is everyone comfortable stating that he could be the darkest coach to ever win a Super Bowl? Just seems strange is all.
So, regardless of who wins this game, the hype machine is set up and ready to blow self-servings of confetti all over the party. Will it be the devastated town that tried its best to overcome the racist overtures of a young nation and the shoddy planning of emotional leaders or will it be the little black coach that could? I for one, cannot wait.
(Oh and by the by, I've been asking around and have been wondering: what does bear meat taste like? Any of y'all know?)
Patriots (+3) over COLTS
For a few years now, I've been trying to figure out why it is that I hate Peyton Manning. And, after several uninterrupted minutes of thought aided by my performance enhancing drug, Cuban coffee, I have come to the conclusion that I hate Peyton Manning because he is a choke artist, because he endorses every product under the sun and because I have never once heard him apologize for blowing big games. Now, I'm not the kind of guy who typically gives a damn one way or another about the personalities of individual players, yet Peyton Manning still upsets me. (Ask any girl who's ever dated me, getting me to care about stuff is hard work.) Which is part of the reason why I'm really excited for this game.
You see, this is easily the worst Patriots team to ever make the playoffs. Meanwhile, this may be the best Colts team of the past five years (the addition of Vinatieri was pure genius on the part of Colts management). The Colts run defense is underrated and has proven that they can step up in big games while the Patriots defense keeps getting older, slower and whiter. The Colts have a core of receivers that are capable, experienced and vaunted; the Patriots have a core of receivers that are human, bipedal and probably have driver's licenses (I don't do research). I mean, you'd have to be a moron to pick the Patriots.
And fortunately for me, I am that moron.
I am picking the Patriots because they don't choke, waiver or waffle. I am picking the Patriots because they win when it matters. I am picking the Patriots because I've been to this movie before and I know who dies in the end. Mainly though, I'm picking the Patriots because Peyton Manning doesn't feel a rush of blood through his veins when a game is on the line and Tom Brady does. And even if I'm wrong, this will make a great story.
I mean, wouldn't it be awesome for Colts fans to watch Manning finally catch the proverbial white whale that is the Brady-led Patriots? Even if you hate the man like I do, haven't his attempts to beat this team reached epic proportions? Isn't it this just a (very) little bit like Rudy trying to get into a game at Notre Dame?
God, I love football.
Anyway, here's how I expect this game to end. With the Colts up by less than seven points and less than two minutes to play, Tom Brady will lead the Patriots down the field and win the game. And I will probably be drinking a beer.
And, if there is a God who thinks that entertaining me is important, I will finally get to see Peyton Manning cry. And if this miracle of miracles were to occur, I will look to the TV, raise a mug to Peyton's sobbing face and say, “Don't worry, Johnny. You still got the best arm in the neighborhood.”
Wow. I mean, I really hate Peyton Manning.
Labels: NFL_picks