Monday Morning Hangover-Week 7

And we’re back with another exciting week of Monday Morning Hangover. We’ve been gone the past two weeks (Irish Day and Texas), but we’re back.

Saturday gave more credit to my theory that the winner of the SEC should be the national champion. Take LSU. The past three weeks they’ve played Florida, at Kentucky and Auburn. I doubt anyone else in the country plays a harder three weeks than that. They just beat the crap out of each other every week. Meanwhile, the rest of the country plays mediocre teams and one hard game a month. At least give the SEC champ an automatic bid to the national championship game.

Easiest upset to see: South Florida against Rutgers. South Florida had its “where did these guys come from?” media week prior to it. Hardly anyone is ever successful after this week (see Rutgers last year).

It’s October 23rd and I’ve officially started to mentally brace myself to accept that Tim Tebow is the best player in America. I suggest you do the same.

Before we get into the week in the NFL, let’s talk about my Friday night. I had wanted to go home right from work and get a good night sleep since I haven’t had one in like 2 weeks. So what did I do? Went immediately to happy hour. After a few drinks at Doh Boy’s house, we went to a bar that had shuffleboard. After 2-3 games amongst ourselves, other people wanted to challenge us. I’m matched up against a semi-cute girl who seems pretty chill. Since I’m at least 6 drinks in, I start talking to her. I’m not sure if she’s with the guy she’s with, so I play it cool. Then she drops the hammer: “I’m a Yankees fan.” That’s it, game over, we’re not going there. This won’t work. Most other people could put this aside (at least for a night at try and nut in her face, which would be acceptable), but there is no way possible I can go the entire night without fucking this up by making a “Jeter sucks, A-Rod swallows” reference. I’m a few jack on the rocks from just saying things like “Roger Clemens,” and just pointing and laughing. The final kicker was that she thought it was time for Torre to go. These are the same ungrateful fucks that boo Rivera after a slow April a few years ago. The only acceptable form of sexual relations with these are donkey punches. (You’re probably reading this saying I’m the most fucked up person alive, or the most principled.)
Since this bar wasn’t going to work and Doh Boy was a couple drinks away from turning into that guy, I decided to make moves. My friend LA called earlier saying she was going out and wanted to know if I would meet up with her and her friends using the logic, “Well, I knew you went out for drinks and no one else wanted to come, but I knew you’d be up for drinking some more.” I don’t know if I should be proud of that or ashamed, but I went anyway for no other reason than I didn’t have anything better to do (getting a good night sleep was out of the question after 2 drinks). So I take a 20 minute train ride, but because of connections, took an hour (far too much sobering up time). So I immediately go to jack on the rocks. After the bar, we went back to her friends place to watch the Chappelle stand up (the grape drink one), and I continue to drink jack. Somehow, I really didn’t think I was that drunk.
Saturday morning said other wise as I woke up and was described as “rough”. I still had a pretty good buzz going. Normally, I’d be on the “play it cool and get out of here without looking like a moron” card. Unfortunately, this was rendered impossible when I get a ride to the train in, wait for it…a DODGE STRATUS. After my first attempt to say “I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS” didn’t go over so well, I wasn’t deterred and had to say it again. Guess there weren’t any Will Ferrell fans in the car. Just the way to end a ridiculous night. Let’s just get back to football.

The Houston-Tennessee matchup killed me to pick not knowing if Vince Young wasn’t playing. So I picked Houston just in case. Of course, Kerry Collins and Sage Rosenfels decided to have a shootout and I lost. Fuckin’ A man.

Shout out to Max McGee, one of the legends of the game, who passed away this weekend. He caught the first touchdown in a Super Bowl while extremely hungover. He’ll get his own region next year in the “Who’s Barney?” competition.

Damn me for picking Jacksonville this week. I fell into the thoughts that it was a trap game for Indy, which everyone else seemed to think too. It’s not a trap game if every says it is.

We’re officially in tank mode for the J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets. The McFadden sweepstakes begin this week. Let’s get it cracking. I’m ashamed they can’t bring back Vinny Testeverde to complete this abomination of a season. Until next week, stay classy.