Everything is wrong with me
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
I consider myself a fairly die-hard Eagles fan, but this guy has me beat - big time.

Shoveling snow for 30 hours, talking shit to Michael Vick, and potentially losing his fingers, ears, and nose - now THAT is dedication my friends. I can't imagine doing anything like that, unless I had about $150,000 worth of cocaine in my system, so much that I would actually be clinically dead but my muscles would be driven by the coke, rather than my heart and brain.

But I wouldn't give up my fingers, ears, and nose for an Eagles Super Bowl win, unless I was already married to a very attractive woman or I had a very attractive women tied up in my basement, which I'm not and don't have (yet - working on it). Despite evidence to the contrary, I am still holding out hope of one day having sex again, and I'd like to have my fingers, ears, and nose when I do so, as they are all body parts that play pivotal roles in my love-making "technique" (please note that by "technique" I mean "experiencing spasms of the muscles of the groin and pelvic region until vomiting is induced, at which point I cry and poop").

There are however many other things I would do for an Eagles' championship, like:

- punch my brother in the face (hard)
- give up drinking for two months (ok, one month)
- kill an animal with a blunt instrument, preferably a cat with an old shovel or a really fat pig with a pair of brass knuckles
- spend two hours in jail
- tell my mom I'm quitting my job and moving to LA to follow my dream - to play Raoul in "Phantom of the Opera" and win a beauty pageant - and not tell her I'm kidding for one week
- drink poison, but only enough to make me pass out, not to kill me - it's also ok if it makes me impotent for a few months
- give up masturbating for three days
- make out with a dude for five seconds - but only if it's Kyan from "Queer Eye For The Straight Guy", Rod Stewart, or Paul Newman circa 1970 (if that's the case, it may last longer)
- punch my sister in the face (but not as hard as I would punch my brother)
- stab myself in the ass or upper thigh with a penknife, but only in a hospital and in the presence of a doctor and the penknife is sterile and afterwards I get to have a milkshake
- tell my dad I'm gay, and not tell him I'm kidding for three days (if he lived for three days)
- shit myself at work
- wear a moustache for one month
- tell my entire family I'm engaged to a girl I met over the internet but haven't yet met in person, and not tell them I'm kidding for two weeks (also tell them the girl has a kid but it's not a kid but some sort of bizarre dog-child that has disproportionally large genitals)
- start a garbage fire in Central Park
- kiss a scrotum of my roommates' choosing
- start a garbage fire in my kitchen
- put a homeless guy in a headlock
- walk through Spanish Harlem in July for twenty minutes wearing a sign that says, "It stinks like Rican in here"
- shave my pubes, but leave all of the rest of my body hair intact for three months

I could go on and on here, but that's twenty, so we'll stop there.

[Please note: I'm not saying I will do these things if the Eagles win, I'm just saying I would do these things if Satan came to me now and made me an offer. If the Eagles win, don't send me any emails saying, "Well dude, looks like you have to murder a cat."]

But no, I wouldn't lose my fingers, ears, and nose for a Birds' win. God bless that man. Seriously.

And if you're not rooting for the Eagles in Sunday's Super Bowl, a town that represents a team full of crazed fans like Mr. Frostbite who would do anything for a championship (which they haven't had in 22 years, unlike Boston which has had 3 in 3 years), well then you and I just can't be friends. So stop fucking emailing me about meeting up, because I'm not gonna do it.

(Thanks to my buddy Steve for the link)

PS - I'm going home to Philly this weekend for the Eagles game, and if they win, I'm going to cry. I just want to say this now, so that if it happens, no one watching the game with me will be freaked out, because I am really going to sob. Really, really sob.

PPS - And yes, I know this post has an uncomfortable about of references to the Eagles winning the Super Bowl, but there's nothing I can do about this. You should now that I am very uneasy about said references, but I don't think that this will put a jinx on the team (even though I am pretty fucking famous). Now let's talk about something else...

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