It’s been a bit of a rough night for those of us named Sam Wadhams. First my beloved Green Bay Packers got absolutely shelled by Drew “allergic to dairy, wheat, gluten, and eggs” Brees, the quarterback for the leading team in my fantasy league.
A 21-51 loss is humiliating enough, but having to listen to Tony “Foot-Ball?” Kornheiser call the game was almost more than I could bear. At one point he claimed that, due to the numerous injuries to the Saints, they were “picking people up on Bourbon St. on Thursday and putting them in uniform”. This garbage excuse for commentary seemed to offend Ron “Jaws” Jaworski, unfortunately, not enough so that he would grab Kornheiser by the ears and throw him face first through the glass of the booth like he deserves. I do love him on PTI though. So after that crap-humiliating, possibly season-ending loss, I settled in to write a 5 page “industry report” on Esquire magazine, despite almost no knowledge of what an “industry report” is. Tomorrow I get to drive six hours home in the “rain” that will undoubtedly turn to sheet upon sheet of black ice as I get into the colder, darker, northerly territory of my home. But at least I’ll be well reste… oh. At least I’m not being kept up by rats scurrying around my ceilin… oh. Fuck you, Fordham. Fuck you. Fuck my life.