The Aftergeography

The celebrations continue. I led my own victory parade in the tub this morning with my rubber ducky standing in for Eli of course. More importantly, its been two days since the glorious victory and I'm still alive. Given that I live in Massachusetts, this is a tense time for me. I travel only at night and I've constructed a crude dead-mans switch just in case I'm caught. Supplies were running low so I had to venture out during the day. Boomstick in hand, I picked my way to my car.
 I'd say that this is the kind of car that could survive the apocalypse but the apocalypse isnt even here yet and its already contending for the worlds biggest paperweight. Therefore I was little surprised when I turned the key and the battery started coughing up blood before keeling over. Obviously that didnt actually happen, I'm just being colorful.
So I strapped on my +2Backpack of Holding and made for the nearest auto parts store. My legs thought it was about 2 miles away, my head thought it was 10 minutes, and my bladder didnt think anything cause its a bladder. I soon had a new battery for my 2001 Chrysler P.O.S. and was on my way home. But now I had to install the battery. I broke out my tools, and using my brawn and iron arms, I wrestled the old battery from its casing.
Having freed the rotting Autozone corpse, I shoved a brand new Napa one in its place. Then I closed the hood, turned the key and listened to that baby cough to life. I felt so manly. I was out in the cold with my tools working on a car. Successfully too. I took an immovable iron hulk and brought it to life again. Testosterone was coursing through my veins, a thousand years of ancestors were calling my name, cannons thundered in my ear! Thats when I realized I was having a stroke. I wont bore you with the details of it, but suffice it to say, I needed to go to the grocery store. Having done something manly I felt the need to balance it with something more feminine. So I made cookies.

Clearly I have a lot of time on my hands when I'm not celebrating the NY Giants winning the Super Bowl and Eli Manning winning his second, not his first, Super Bowl MVP title. I'm starting to run low on ways to celebrate their glory. 

The fries of champions. Not pictured: onion rings of glory

The Aftermath

Its the day after. 24 hours since kickoff. 24 hours since the NY Giants began winning the Super Bowl and I'm still in a state of shock. I love the way Two Time Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning sounds. If I change one letter in that last sentence it completely changes its meaning and I still love it. Take a look: I love the way Two Time Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning wounds. The state of Massachusetts is in silent mourning, a deep pall hanging in the air. I thought it rained overnight cause the ground was wet when I walked the dog this morning. Turns out it was just the tears of Pats fans.
The edible spread yesterday was fantastic if I do say so myself. All that remained of the wings was a macabre pile of bones, heaped halfway to the ceiling and reeking of buffalo teriyaki flavor. Following victory, I stayed up all night constructing a crude bone armor for my dog Flexxo. He looks so badass.

Not pictured: Dog in Bone Armor

There was so much sauce that we had to be hosed down afterwards. Well the sauce wasnt the only reason we had to be hosed down! Hiyo! Sex joke! As truly slendiferous as the wings were, they were clearly not enough for the Super Bowl so nachos followed shortly thereafter.

Its hard to see because I did a crappy job but I spelled out NY in salsa on the top layer. In the future I can think of several ways to improve these nachos like the inclusion of pulled pork, more cheese and beans that have been refried so masterfully as to make the eater question if they had not been fried yet a third time. Heres looking forward to next time.
So anyway, all of that truly amazing homemade delicious flavor was tremendously enjoyable on the way in. Once in however, the combination of wings, nachos and tension has left my stomach in such dire shape that I am unable to make any more Macbeth references. Theyre in there...or are they?
But I carry on, despite my considerable gastric distress because I am a NY Giants fan and the NY Giants are champions. When a NY Giant is injured on the field he injures himself further trying to get back on the field damnit!

A partially destroyed knee joint isnt enough to stop Jake Ballard and horrible gas and buffalo farts arent enough to stop me. Super Bowl Champion NY Giants.

Giants Got My Back

Two Time Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning!

I think we can expect an increase in posts in the wake of recent events. I have mentioned before how I'm a big-mclarge-huge fan of the NY Giants. I even mentioned a tattoo of mine that reflects this level of fandom. Its a heart-warming story that was recently repeated but is still worth remembering. Imagine if you will, the year 2007.....wavy lines wavy lines wavy lines.........
Its a crazy year, 2007. I'm living in China, doing my best to spread the glory of football and the NY Giants. Bush is still president, technically. I'm forced to stay up all night to listen to the web-radio broadcast of Giants games but its worth the exhaustion and incoherence in class the next day. Nobody believes in the road warrior NY Giants. I tell my Chinese friend, who I shall call The General, not to worry. A true fan sticks with his team through thick and thin. I then spent the next few minutes explaining what the term "thick and thin" meant to him. I'm the kind of man who makes outrageous declarations and then is forced to stand by them so as not to lose face. So I declared early in the season that if the NY Giants win the Super Bowl, I will commemorate them in tattoo form. The General asked what "commemorate" meant, and then promised to hold me to my word.
I don't need to retell the immortal glory that was Super Bowl 42. I don't need to remind everyone of David Tyree's mythic catch. Nor do I need to recount all the times the defense hit Tom Brady. I don't even need to mention the 17-14 final score or Eli's first Super Bowl MVP title. I just dont need to, we all know this stuff already.
I revelled in the glory until The General gave the order to get the tattoo. I love the Giants and I have many tattoos, I just dont like the needle part of it. Frankly, tattoos hurt and anybody who says otherwise is a filthy liar who is trying to impress you. But the pain is manageable and it passes in time. So we found a tattoo guy. He just happened to be the best tattoo guy in all of Wuhan, maybe all of Hubei so I ended up going back to him a few more times.

While I was getting worked on, I watched Family Guy on my Apple brand iPod and grit my teeth. All told, it was the most painful tattoo I've gotten. As you can see, my back is gross with little moles and birthmarks and whip scars. Turned out it hurts more to get a tattoo over those which has since led me reconsidering the full length mural of Michael Strahan wrestling a lion with his bare hands.
It took nearly two hours, including the 10 minute break I needed. It had nothing to do with the pain though. I was sitting backwards on a chair (the single coolest way to sit) and my crotch went numb. I tried using that excuse the other night too but it didnt fly. Anyway, I got up to stretch my legs and have a smoke. Two hours later, I was presented with everlasting glory, inked onto my living skin.

I will forever be reminded of that glory. I might not be able to see it without a complex arrangement of mirrors but I know its there. This brings a new question to mind. Do I get another commemorative tattoo? Perhaps it is the right time to get a touch-up, repaint the ol' thing, give it a new set of tires, other term for repairing something. The color is a bit faded after four years.
Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns? Queries? Conundrums? Quagmires?

Countdown to Glory

Today is of course Super Sunday. Is there anything else I need to say? I'm such a huge Giants fan that when they won the NFC Championship, my mind exploded and starting leaking out my nose. Yeah, the doctor said it was hayfever, but I know how I felt man.
So of course the second best thing about Super Sunday is the food. I plan on making nachos once the game is on, complete with homemade tortilla chips and homemade salsa. You read that right. My good lady wife and I are just that good. She had wings in her sights and I am nothing if not a supportive husband. So off we went to the supermarket to get supplies, obviously wearing our Giants gear proudly. Did I mention that we live in Massachusetts, the heart of Patriot territory?
We strolled through our local Price Chopper, each wearing NY Giants hats, personalized NY Giants jerseys, and/or NY Giants hoodies. In other words, we are walking around covered in targets, insulting a bunch of probably 3/8's drunk Patriots fans. As the saying goes; if looks could kill, our bodies would have never been found and there would conveniently be no witnesses either. More than a few people said good luck. But the way they said it clearly meant "Good luck making it to your car cause theres a gauntlet waiting for you in the parking lot". Some creepy dude got on the store P.A. and started clinking bottles chanting "Warriors, come out to play-i-yay".
I am always prepared to defend both my team and my good lady wife so I made sure my impressive arms were on full display. With free tickets to the gun show being distributed liberally, we strut to the car, dodging only one would-be hit and run driver. NY Giants logo stretched across my rugged muscular chest and decorating my good lady wifes truly glorious bosom, we emerged unharmed and triumphant from our foray into enemy territory on Super Sunday.
But the glory of the day didnt end there, and the game hasnt even started yet. My good lady wife went to work immediately on the wings. She laid out and prepared buffalo and teriyaki wings. Covered them in their respective sauces, whispered encouraging things to them and put them in the oven. The love didnt stop there though. Every 15 minutes or so, she would remove the wings to flip them and reapply sauce. When the wings finally emerged, they were so chock full of delicious flavor that my mouth nearly seized. 
So now I sit, wallowing in my own crapulence, awaiting the glory that will rain upon the NY Giants and therefore myself.