Week 4 Recap. HA! So all I'm really interested in discussing is that heading into the CHI/NYG game I held a 56 point lead over Dirk, 89-33. He had Jay Cutler, Devin Hester and Greg Olsen starting in that game, the three of which combined for a total of one point (-4, 2, and 3, respectively). One. Well played, Chicago Bears, well played.
But while we're at it, we may as well talk about Clint getting thrashed by Nick, favored by 45, yet losing by 38 and Barron losing to Zoobs to eliminate all the perfect records in the league.
Don the Magic Juan is still unbeaten, but has the distinction of a tie on his record. Oh, the shame, the humanity. Jessica got abused domestically, yet again, and now sits at the .500 mark. That sandwich keeps looking less and less likely.
My 73 point domination of Dirk is tops for the week, and I now sit atop the league in scoring. Suck it. The Sissy Fight of the Week goes to Frank and Jessica, which if they combined their scores would still have lost to myself, Nick, and The Old Dongslinger, Zoobie. Barron's loss locks us up at the top of the west division, with the tiebreaker for general awesomeness going to yours truly (but not that truly).
Week 5. So here we are. Well, here I am, anyway, covered in baby feces and spitup (picture not included, you're welcome!), and filled with a sense of joy that none of you will ever experience: the knowingness of championship fantasy season. Who knows where you mutt fucks are. Although I do know that DirkaDirka and Clint (and perhaps Jessica "n't break .500" Hewetson, as well) are visiting The League Elder in NC, so be sure to be on the lookout for any shady incestual/ancestral trades that occur over the next few days, as it's a virtual lock that once more than one Hewetson is in a room, diabolical scheming and plotting doth occur, although generally with funny and ineffectual outcomes. In related news, the state of North Carolina braces for shocking behavior unmatched since Strom Thurmond's love child was thrust into the limelight.
And I'm pretty sure Josh is in a dark room somewhere progressing through his new Intermediate Yoga DVD's hoping to Tongue Kiss His Own Shithole at some point in the near future (stay classy, Slovy). Zoobers is likely watching this attempt to transgress unwritten laws of self-pleasuring, moist towel in hand.
On the east coast I know my bro Nick is in Boston, licking the wounds of a failed BoSox season - if he's lucky, Amanda's doing the licking for him - while lamenting about a dying ember that was once a great and mighty flame - a beacon fire for those lost in the wilderness of unfulfilled promises and disappointing seasons - as he abandons his once great love for the Purple and Gold; Ryan Allen currently walks aimlessly through the streets of midtown Manhattan wearing his Jim Miller #15 Chicago Bears jersey, being spat upon and having feces thrown upon him by native New Yorkers as he still tries, John Nash style, to unravel the mystery of just what the hell went wrong Sunday night with his beloved Bears. The answer (nothing, they just suck, just like last year and the year before and the decade before that) will not penetrate his delicate psyche until well into his 40s.
His little bro Eric is engaged in this same walk of shame and despair, albeit in Lincoln Park, Chicago, a tad more weepishly, in his #8 Rex Grossman jersey, and with the spittle and feces being hurled upon him in a much more sympathetic manner, but hurled nonetheless.
(side note: it's amazing how easy it is to google image search Chicago QB fumbles, you don't even need to include the word "fumble" in your search criteria)
Frank sits just outside Pittsburgh, waiting for the "triumphant" return of "The Bathroom Attendant with All the Right Moves" (thank you, Zoobie, for that one) and hoping that he's placed in isolation, away from all mildly- to non-attractive women in a 3 state radius.
looks like a stand-up guy to me
Barron sits quietly in Bedford because, well, that's what you do when you're in Bedford.
This week Barron and I challenge for the outright lead in the west division, while Jessica and Zoobs fight for respectability and relevance, along with Eric and Nick, and Frank and Ryan. Don looks to waltz (that's what you old people do in your free time, right?) to 4-0-1 against his winless son, Dirk. So much for the apple falling from the tree analogy. Clint is favored by even more this weekend against Slovy than he was last weekend against Nick, so I'm expecting another Clintonian loss, in pure Clintonian fashion.
Until next week, pussies!
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