You ever look in the mirror and thought to yourself "Who the hell is that guy?"
Or if you're not a guy . . . "Who the hell is that person?"
OR if you're not a person . . . "Meow?"
Or if you're Frankie . . . "Meow, baby . . . meee owwww . . ."
I find myself doing that a lot these days.
Not the Frankie one . . . the guy one.
Quarantine has not been good to my skin. Nor my hairline. Nor that stretch of skin between my rib cage and my unmentionables that used to hold most of my vital organs but now seems to be holding back and entire trash bag of ambrosia.
If you're not familiar with "ambrosia" it's like a huge fruit salad mixed with jello and marshmallows.
It's outlawed in every state that votes with the cultural elite.
You can see it on a map.
As well as you can see my belly on a map.
I did not intend to get this tubby. I diet, I exercise, I even work standing up. I can run a mile in under ten minutes. But here I am, staring at my silhouette and thinking if I ever played Christian Bale in a made for TV biopic, I'd be playing him the year he was playing Dick Cheney.
Good movie . . . not a good look.
I was thinking about this as I noticed that today (November 14th) is the last day of trading in our fantasy football leagues.
Our teams are mostly set at this point. This is who we are. This is what we ate.
There's three places you can be right about now. You could be like Jessie (MakeAmericaGronkAgain) who looks at her teams and says "Meow, baby . . . meeeeooooow."
or,
secondly,
You could be like my brother who looks at his team and thinks "All I gotta do is get into Jessie's head and convince her that she doesn't need a defense this week."
or,
thirdly,
You could be like me and think, Jesus, I gotta do some sit ups.
Now in the Cosmic Charlie League pretty much anything can happen.
You can't really root for anyone to have any success. My ability to reach the playoffs at this point is solely based on my father losing.
Solely.
Now there are two things you can do when you're rotund/10th place.
You can look at your belly and then look at the calendar, with its Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and three birthday parties and two to three kegs of beer and think . . . maybe January (or in the case of Fantasy Football . . . maybe next year.)
Or you can do what I'm planning on doing now (or as of Monday). Which is to go through every possible outcome/trigger and se where I can make a difference on the margins. Maybe I don't have to eat the entire bag of Doritos, maybe I can play the matchups with my defensive players. Maybe I shouldn't be holding on to Perine (because Gase isn't getting fired this year) maybe I should be doing Yoga every day.
And maybe I'll have the success I've never had before.
Maybe I'll wake up Christmas morning and my team will have won, and my jeans will fit, and I'll treat myself and the wife to a weekend at the Four Seasons.
Either way, I think BYE week is over and it's time to pull some weeds, burn some calories, and put a few "W'S" where they belong.
WHAT TO WATCH
Last time it was all about the underdogs. The unrequited loves. Rooting for the impossible outcomes.
Sorry about all that.
Though The Giants did beat the Washington Football team for the second time in a row.
Yay.
The Jets played a football game.
No Frank Gore did not look . . . spry.
But before anyone starts talking about my Niners . . . let's move on shall we?
Since I've decided that my belly is no longer on BYE week. You know who needs a win?
All of our teams (Not you Jessie).
I think we should make a special deal with ourselves that if our teams win . . . we all deserve a little something special.
FANTASYLAND:
The Commish: 3-6 (10th Place)
Karen's Handful: 5-4 (6th Place)
Now certainly I could have a better showing . . . you know . . . if I had a better team. That's the one weird things about this whole season . . . I still like my team . . . I still think they're competitive . . . they're not . . . but I still think that.
Not going to make many moves, but I will say this . . . their may come a point tomorrow morning when I end up with three tight ends on one team and two kickers on the other.
I just can't give up Younghoe Koo.
He means too much to my lifestyle.
And he, like my belly, are on BYE,
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS LAST BLOG:
Kickers will win some games. (Y.Koo shore done)
Lavonte David has a great game. (Eh)
Allen Robinson comes off concussion protocol and nails it. (Sure)
Onion Dip is a hit. (Actually it got mostly overlooked for the guacamole, which is the Y. Koo of dips.)
Our IPA was delish. (It is now the Y. Koo of legged beers.)
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS THIS BLOG:
Peter hands my father a loss and I owe him a Miller Light and a package of white tees.
Drew Brees goes off against my niners.
Antonio Brown tweets something nice about Brady's wife and scores 2 TD's
Joann beats Patrick and everyone suspects that I'm helping her with her team, which, Jesus people, do you think she'd be in fifth place if I had any input? Have you read this blog?
I look in the Mirror on Monday and say to myself . . . "Meow, Baby, . . .. meeeeow . . . "
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