I never thought this could happen to me. So last week I was at home, alone, and I drifted off into my own version of "Fantasy Football". I'm sure you know the type: Jared Allen pounding your ass with a ferocity that one would expect from a mullet-toting Pro Bowl defensive end while Jeremy Shockey performs the most exquisite rusty trombone this side of Singapore.

It all happened immediately after my post-ejaculatory daze, I received the call of a lifetime. Yes, it was Morgan Freeman telling me that I had won an all-expense paid trip to an NFL game of my choosing. This was no ordinary trip, oh no; this was to include pre and post-game locker-room access, interviews with the greatest human spectacles on Earth, and anything else my mind could conjure up. Oh boy was I in for a treat.

Next thing I knew I found myself in Minnesota before the Vikings-Cowboys game, just mere feet away from hunks the like of Tony Romo, Miles Austin, Adrian Peterson, and, the creme de la creme, my very own salt n' pepper Adonis: Brett Favre. Oh how I dreamed of this moment, him powerfully-yet-caringly loving me the only way an experienced man can. I was practically salivating.
After the game, my cup had runneth over with big, burly, sweaty men who were in a mood to celebrate. And what better celebration than to devour a nubile young man like myself. But then the unthinkable happened. Just before my fantasy was to be realized I heard a disconcerting knock on the locker-room door. That's when a couple of guys who were up to no good started makin' trouble in my neighborhood. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared and said "you're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"

1/19/2010 12:33:24 AM

yo homo

1/19/2010 12:33:48 AM

8/10

1/19/2010 12:40:59 AM

Quote :

"interviews with the greatest human spectacles on Earth"

does not compute

1/19/2010 12:43:26 AM

1/19/2010 12:48:46 AM

what a horrible use of the internet

1/19/2010 1:14:15 AM