I hate the Giants. I just erased the three paragraphs I forced on to paper talking about the picture to the right. It was beautifully crafted to imitate a 60 Minutes feature, with colorful Andy Rooney-ish commentary and informative statistics about the American Breakfast.
I watched the Superbowl like the 100+ million other Americans who really just miss the Budweiser frogs. We all said we wouldn’t watch the half-time show because, “football as an institution of family values, steroids and physical abuse,” will not stand for Madonna to flop around on stage like a broken slinky. Yet some how we all can recall MIA flipping the bird while LMFAO tried to stay sober enough to do choreographed dance moves.
I watched the Superbowl and my prediction was that the Pats would win. I based this solely on Tom Brady’s vacant eyes telling me, “if I lose they will put me down.” Apparently Tommy was committing death by NFL because he figuratively, and perhaps literally shit his pants endzone to endzone the whole game.
My projections are gold currency to some people and thanks to the New York Giants, I rank somewhere below beer dice and Kim Kardashian in credibility. (Yea I probably spelled her name wrong, lets see her do better)
Now I’m hungry.