Brett Favre Watches the Super Bowl…
By Thoughtis
Hattiesburg, Mississippi; Sunday, 615pm.
Alright, Big Brett’s settlin’ for a little TV. Gonna do some Murder She Wrote, then watch some of these Glees I got saved up on the ol’ DVR. Damn if those little gay kids can’t sing the shit out of some Journey, I’ll tell you what. Hold up! What?! Football? The Super Bowl is on TV! Holy cow. I figured they just cancelled that thing if I wasn’t gonna be in it. WHOA — wait a second. The Packers are in the friggin’ Super Bowl?! How in the hell did that happen? “Deanna, why didn’t you tell me about this shit!” What a surprise. Still not talking to me. She’d start talking if I stopped paying that credit card bill, I’ll tell you that right now…
So you’re telling me I coulda just stayed on the Packers and I’d be in the Super Bowl right now? Oh, that smarts. I’m a proud man. I mean, not so proud that I won’t send pictures of my genitals to young women who have in no way indicated that they would find said pictures endearing or even legally permissible, but proud nonetheless. I played in New Jersey, and Minnesota – the New Jersey of the northern midwest – to try to get back to the Super Bowl. I coulda just sat on the bench in Green Bay, let Aaron Rodgers take over, and I’d be in the Super Bowl right now? Bullllshit…
You know, most people just lift their arm and point the remote at the TV to change the channel. Not me. Here we go, it’s a commercial, time to change the channel. Run three steps to the right, fake like I’m gonna change the channel on the fish tank, run back two steps to left, jump and spin 180 degrees in mid-air then change the channel with my left hand right before I fall on my butt. Woohoo! Still got it. Gunslinger lives! Oh wait. The channel didn’t change. “Deanna, the TV’s broke!”…
Dammmmmn this game is boring. Let’s check one of these bullshit magazines Deanna’s always reading. The Oscars are coming up? Jackass 3-D for… everything. Damn, that movie’s funny. But oh shit, Prince of Persia was last year too. Tough call, Hollywood. Just do what I do…stare at both your options for a real long time until it’s clear they’re being considered, then at the last pick a third one choice without even really looking to see if it’s paying attention. BOOM. Yogi Bear – you’re the best picture. Damn, I’m smart…
I know! I’ll call good ol’ Bubba Franks. He’s always up for some reminiscin’. Wait – where’s my gosh dang…who took my telephone? “Deanna?!” What the F? I send pictures of my weenie to one girl (that you know about) and you confiscate my cellphone for the rest of time? That’s not fair. I’m a gosh-damned quarterback. I’m gonna be in the Hall of Fame. I can’t have my wife taking shit from me like she doesn’t trust me. I wanna call Bubba! And then maybe schedule a massage afterwards, but it’s gonna be totally by the book. “Deanna! Come on. I’ll help you publicize your book”…
I don’t know what Aaron Rodgers is doing. These receivers are wide open! Look, there goes Donald Driver — he’s got one guy in front of him, one guy behind him, and then two other guys looking at him in case you throw it there. That’s OPEN man, throw the dang ball! Golllllll-y. You can’t make an omelet without throwing a few interceptions, every chef will tell ya that…
Green Bay is kicking ass. Man is this depressing. I’m changing the ch-WAIT. There’s a Zombie Glee on after the game. Looks like the Gunslinger is staying put! “Deanna, can you bring me more Cool Ranch?! Deannnna…?!”
