Bitchfest

Somebody hand me a rape kit, I've got evidence to collect. The football gods had their way with me yet again, then left me bruised and bloody by the side of the gridiron. It was ugly. For the second week in a row I went 1-3 in fantasy. I am now 0-2 in both my big pay leagues. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. The dream of reaching the playoffs in either of the leagues I care about is dead. The season is as good as over. Goodbye, cruel fantasy world.

I've got some good news though. You won't have to hear me bitch about this any more. Since the fantasy football season is dead to me now, there's nothing more to say about it. It's buried in the backyard next to Fido and the Dagger of Lokin. May they rest in pieces.

The cruelty of the football gods did not end with fantasy. In Broncosland, they dangled the carrot of hope, leading me to wonder if the donks aren't as bad as I thought. This will not end well. Hope is the kissing cousin of disappointment and despair. They're probably making out right now, those dirty sluts. It's really too bad the donks have won their first two games. It'll only make the next eleven consecutive losses in a row feel all the worse. The unraveling will begin with Oakland and won't end until the donks lose to the colts on Dec. 13th. Then, as if to give us an early x-mas gift, the donks will win their third game of the season against the raiders at home on Dec. 20th. Mark it on your calender, boys and girls. You won't want to miss it.

What else, what else? Oh yes, the line bets. Everyone and their insurance selling duck told me my picks were a joke. Well, they were right. I went 2-4 this week, which brings me to a less than stellar total of 5-7. Were I actually betting on these games, I'd be in the red and dropping.

My government has saved me from myself.

I have six weeks to figure this shit out before I go to Vegas. Something tells me though I won't. The football gods, you see, are cruel. And they aren't done with me yet.