HUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGS
Well, a good thing or two finally happened to the Chicago Bears, so it only figures that I had to spend the whole day at gay work, far away from where the game was being shown on free-ass TV. I managed to keep the slightest of tabs on what was happening by asking the one dude with a decent cell phone to check the scores every time I managed to not be sifting through the tomatoes and pine nuts sent to me by produce distributors and the kinda feminine-ish dude who works at the customer service desk. Still though, even after a phone call from my mom telling me how good a game it was, (which was really bizarre and almost felt like she was rubbing it in that I didn't get to watch) and telling me that I need to go see my brother's babies more often, I still have no idea, for the most part, what the hell happened.
Robbie Gould's soulless legions shall destroy us all.
I know Robbie Gould won the game with a field goal at the end, Jay Cutler didn't fuck up, and Johnny Knox came as close as a team's #4 receiver can come to going off, which kinda fucks me up in a way, because as a stunted man-child, I never fully gave up collecting football cards, and all those "investor" faggots (basically, dudes who figure the football card collector "dude, you are a giant nerd" stigma is a lot less undesirable than the "holy shit you are ruining your life" stigma that gambling addicts have, even though they both lose similar amounts of money) are already starting to hoard his cards. This means it's going to be hard as hell for me to pick up a Knox autograph, and I try to get at least one of everybody if I can. I went through this same shit last year, when only one card got made of Caleb Hanie, and people wanted like $40 for that shit, because they got all "ohmygod, he's an undrafted QB, JUST LIKE TONY ROMO," and I will be god damned to the lake of fucking fire before I ever spend $40 for a piece of cardboard with some ink on it, especially if it's Caleb Fucking Hanie. And oh Jesus holy shit god damn, I better steer this back to actual football talk before I get branded such a loser sack of shit that I become the new Armchair Linebacker whipping goat, once the Pats sink to 5-2 and that one guy leaves. I have made a terrible blogging mistake.
I don't actually own this card, and it's tearing me apart inside.
Aaaaanyway, yeah, today a Good Thing happened in regard to the Bears, so for the time being, I'm holding back on any predictions of the team's future involving flames, cobras, or flaming cobras that I would have made in regard to last week's game if I didn't have a few days of non-functioning internet to calm me down. I'm sure when they lose to someone stupid like Tampa Bay, I'll end up throwing up some insane Pedobear-featuring post about how Lovie Smith killed the Lindbergh baby, Darryl Drank is the fiend of our time, and Ron Turner needs to get chewed up by that walking tank thing from that one Dismember album cover for this team to have a chance at 8-8. But for now, I can be at peace, because for at least one week, all is well, no one got hurt enough for it to be mentioned in online game recaps, and the cobras are all safely locked in their screen-enclosed fish tanks. But most importantly of all:
The Bears beat my brother's team. Yessssssss.
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