Monday Morning Eff You: The Late Edition!

Well, I'm still at home, in bed, thanks to my fucking piece of shit lower back, but now I've got the computer in bed with me and I'm not hopped up on painkillers so I can do this thing.

1. Peyton Manning
AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I mean, seriously, could there have been a more perfect way for the Colts to blow that game? No fucking way. That pick six was fucking glorious. Almost orgasmic. Tracy Porter is the fucking balls. He picked off Brett Favre two weeks ago and now he clinches the Super Bowl by taking a Manning pass to the house. Fucking. Awesome.

I also enjoyed Manning's half-assed effort to make a tackle. What a fucking twat. And GINORMOUS fuck you to anyway trying to claim that a flag should have been thrown for a block in the back on Manning. Seriously, fuck off. He wasn't making any attempt to tackle him, and he wasn't even facing the right fucking direction! Do we really have nothing left to do these days than nitpick little shit like that? Just fucking enjoy the play!

2. Tony Dungy
Did you see Dungy pop off last week before the game? You didn't? Oh well let me inform you...

"I think they're going to be so far ahead that people are going to say, 'Oh, ho-hum, he played a good game, they won by two scores, the Colts won their second championship,' " Dungy said of Manning on Thursday. "He's going to have those rings Sunday night. I don't think it's going to be close. Minnesota is playing in New Orleans, they turn the ball over five times, have two or three stupid penalties and still lose in overtime, I don't see how it's going to be close. The Colts aren't going to turn it over seven times."

Well Tony, you were right about one thing, the Colts didn't turn it over seven times. All it took was one ho-hum interception returned for a TD. And I won't even get started on his cheap shots at Brady and Belichick.

But seriously, can everyone stop acting like Tony Dungy is such a fucking saint? (Ha, saint, Saints. Take that you fucker!) I actually kind of like that Dungy seems to have lost his mind with this interview. Makes him seem like an actual human being instead of the humanity robot that everyone makes him out to be. Look, people of the media, Tony Dungy is just as much of an asshole as every other coach in the NFL. Sure, he puts up a nice facade and speaks softly and hypnotizes you and all that bullshit but deep down he's an asshole like everyone else. Everyone talks about Dungy's faith and that he's almost like a preacher and shit but I really don't buy it. I hate to go down this road, and I mean no disrespect to the deceased, but his son fucking killed himself. Everyone talks about Dungy's influence on Mike Vick and everyone else but conveniently forgets about the fact that his own child took his own life. It's tragically sad and it's not that I want it brought up on national TV or anything, but it shouldn't just be forgotten that the saint and father figure of the NFL didn't even take care of his own son.

Now I feel dirty, let's move on.

3. Everyone who hyped up the Tim Tebow "anti-abortion" ad
Seriously? That was it? I was all fucking fired up to be outraged and then they hit us with this bullshit? Fuck that.



What a piece of shit commercial. Speaking of commercials....

4. Anyone at the party discussing the commercials for more than 2 seconds
Courtesy of D. Chuck:

A big hearty fuck you to people who spend more than one second talking about Super Bowl commercials. Jesus living fuck people, they're fucking commercials. Digest them for the 30 seconds that they're on, laugh if they're funny, consider buying the product if you find said product intriguing, or tell everyone in the room that the commercial sucked, and then move on. But you know who's even worse than the people who limit their fucking idiocy to merely talking about the goddamn commercials? People who insist on writing a wrap-up newspaper or internet column rating the fucking commercials during the Super Bowl. My fucking rageahol is off the damn charts with these fucking idiots. We don't need a column ranking the top 5 and bottom 5 commercials. We don't need a column with a fucking grading system for the commercials. We don't need any sort of hackneyed, lazy "thumbs up/down" bullshit. People - and I cannot stress this enough - there's a FUCKING FOOTBALL GAME GOING ON. Enough with the goddamn hoopla about the commercials! Fuck!

Rageahol. I like that. But he's right, the commercials are a fucking afterthought. I blame the late '80s and entire '90s for all this commotion about the commercials. A lot of people have brought this up recently, but for a long time, the Super Bowl fucking sucked. With the exception of Joe Montana driving the length of the field against the Bengals (isn't it bizarre to think fo the Bengals being in a Super Bowl?) and the Scott Norwood Wide Right game, every Super Bowl was a fucking blow out. Thus, the commercials became essential to the appeal of the broadcast. And before we knew it, that shit got out of control. Now that we actually have good games the commercials don't matter as much, but that doesn't stop the pseudo-fans (men and women) from ignoring the game to yap about the commercials. Shut the fuck up, dipshits.

5. My back
Seriously, fuck you, Back. Just because I'm overweight and out of shape that doesn't give you the right to just quit on me. Fucking asshole. By the way, those muscle relaxants I got? Fucking amazing. I slept like a god damn baby last night. The only downside is the wicked cotton mouth. How much water do I have to drink to make that shit go away? Fuck!

NFL Picks O' The Week: Super Bowl!

It's Super Bowl time, my little bitches! And for the first time in 3 years, I'm actually going to get to watch the entire game at home, on my couch, the way it's fucking supposed to be.

Two years ago I was about 5 months into a new job and the week before the Super Bowl the bosses decided to send me on travel. Just for a week, fine, I'll be back on Saturday. The week was going by just fine, until Thursday, when I got The Call.

"Hey, we're gonna need you to stay out there next week, too."

Um, ok, can I fly home for the weekend? No. But it's the Super Bowl! The Pats are going for 19-0! Sorry, Mark, you're officially fucked. I tried to make the best of it. I bought a case of beer and bottle of champagne to drink during and after the game. I had packed my jersey juuuuuust in case this exact fucked scenario actually played out. My hotel room actually had an HDTV in it. I suppose it could have been worse.

And then, the fucking game happened. Ugh. Let's just move on.

Last year a friend of Wifey's was having a Super Bowl party, and since that friend's grandma or someone had just died and Wifey hadn't had a chance to see her yet, we had to go. Fine. We got there and the first thing I noticed was that someone had made chili that was clearly inferior to the chili I had cooking at home. Step up your fucking chili game, people. I'm the fucking Pope of Chili Town and this was some weak ass excuse for chili.

Since the game hadn't started yet and I had zero interest in talking to anyone at this party, I went to pet the dog. The dog, a boxer, was in the other room locked in its crate. And this is something I will fucking never understand about some people; why the fuck do people lock their dogs in the crate when they have company over? It drives me fucking crazy. I am never going to do that when I get a dog. Not a dog person? Then get the fuck out of my house! Oh did the dog knock something over and spill shit? Well the kids and drunk people are gonna do that anyway so what's the difference?

Anyway, so I go and sit next to the crate and pet the dog through the prison bars for a second and then I was like fuck it, and I opened the door to the crate, positioning myself so that I was pretty much blocking any escape. The dog sat there happily for like a minute while I petted it, but then I let my guard down and glanced into the other room to see where Wifey was. BOOM! That animal came busting out like a bat out of hell, knocking me on my back and charging into the party to fucking wreak havoc. Just started sprinting around, jumping on people, all that shit. It was great. Eventually the owners got the dog back in the crate and I fake apologized. We stayed for the first quarter and then headed home. I turned on the tv just in time to see James Harrison's interception return. And since the game sucked donkey dick in the 3rd quarter, I was actually in bed watching the non-HDTV when all of the awesomeness happened. Oh well.

But this year! This year I'm not going fucking anywhere. I'm gonna make my kick ass chili, drink some beer, and park my ass on the couch for the entire game. Wifey is talking about having some friends over and that's fine. Do whatever you want, lady. I'm eating my chili and watching football and that's all I give a shit about.

On to the game!

Indianapolis (-5) over New Orleans

God I would love to take the Saints. I'm fucking praying that they pull off the upset. But really, I just don't think it's going to happen. Peyton Manning is just too good. He's been playing out of his mind all season and he just seems to have a robotic, Terminator-like focus right now. I had a friend over to watch the AFC championship and with the Jets leading 17-6 just before the half I said to him, "It pisses me off that we're like 3 plays away from it being 17-13." Well, it took 4 plays, but that's the amazing thing about Manning; it's practically expected that he's going to make a couple deep throws and bury the dagger of a TD into your chest on every drive. It's fucking annoying.

I also don't think that Dwight Freeney's absence is going to mean shit. I just get the feeling that after the game, Berman and all the other talking dipshits are gonna be saying shit like, "And you never would have even noticed that Dwight Freeney didn't play!" I have no explanation for this other than I know we'll be hearing something like that after the game. So there.

Our only hope here is the Football Gods. Do they remember the Colts tanking like a bunch of pussies in Weeks 16 and 17? Do they realize what an enormous piece of whiny shit Bill Polian is? Do they know that the pussification of the game, penalizing the defense for everything, started with the Colts? Do they see the jackassery of Bill Polian claiming his team doesn't care about records or milestones but then making every effort to get Reggie Wayne and Dallas Clark 100 catches for the season in Week 17? Of course not. The Football Gods don't exist. If they did, the Jets would have beaten the Colts 2 weeks ago after the Colts let them into the playoffs.

Colts 38, Saints 27 with Manning as MVP. Maybe he'll actually deserve it this time.