People Mourn In Different Ways

I just realized its been a couple days since I wrote a gusher about the New York Giants winning the Super Bowl, which they did. In all my selfish fandom, I've been focusing on the glory of victory while ignoring the toil of defeat.
Patriots fans have been in somber silence this week. Nobody makes eye contact with me when I have Giants gear on, which is always. Its like people are too depressed to pick fights with me. I fought one Pats fan and he cried the whole time. Didn't even land a punch on me, just cried for his mama. I thought toddlers were scrappier fighters.
Pats players however have had a more positive reaction. So far, no word on how many Patriots have accepted the Aruba Tourism Authority's offer. Thats right, MVP Eli Manning gets to go to Disney World and the losers get to go to Aruba all expenses paid. It's almost worth losing the Super Bowl of you get to go to Aruba for free. Almost. Not really though, I'd rather have the ring
Not all the Patriots players are taking the loss as hard as some quarterbacks supermodel wives. Tight end extraordinaire Rob Gronkowski was spotted tearing it up Sunday night at a post-Super Bowl party.

Gronk is the shirtless one on the left, I think

I'm ignoring the pictures of Matt Light partying with him cause they're not as fun. Instead I want you remember that like 3 hours before this picture, Gronk was busy losing the biggest game of his life. While most of his teammates are crying themselves to sleep, Gronk is partying shirtless with LMFAO and some random skinny dude who clearly idolizes the tight end next to him. how the semi-mighty have fallen.
But I think we have the greatest post-loss burn of all time. We all saw Wes Welker drop what could have been a touchdown. In a situation such as this, the culprit is commonly compared to a delicious, tooth-destroying, crunchy, chocolatey candy bar. A candy bar that reflects what might cause a person to drop something he might otherwise handle easily.

900 pounds worth of failure

Pawngo, an online pawn shop, dumped about 8,000 Butterfingers in Boston. I presume they did so to thank Wes Welker for blowing the game, resulting in millions of dollars in lost bets. And what happens when you have a debt to pay? You pawn your wife's jewelry before the Tibetan Mafia finds you, that's what. Pawngo was just thanking Wes for his contribution to their quarterly sales revenue. 

By the way, Wes Welker has a history of poor life decisions. Have you seen his mustache?

Before I end this, I just want to post something my good lady wife wrote a couple weeks ago. Its a good thing I love her...

After we moved half the furniture we are quiet tired. We are settled in on the couch watching the Giants play the 49ers. I think the 49ers will win but if i voiced that a divorce would be threatened. The Giants are amazing but their running game this year is AWFUL. I feel if its another Giants Pats SuperBowl the Pats are sure to win.  

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.