Sunday, October 12, 2003

Sickening

It was absolutely sickening. The Pack was rolling for 3 quarters of hardnosed asskicking football today. Leading what I would have said, until today, was the best team in the NFL by 17 points with 15 minutes to go. Ahman Green was on-fucking-mark and Brett was back to true form. He gave up one pick, but it wasn't his fault at all, it hit Driver in the air and just got fucking tipped up. That is the truly shitty part about this, not just that we lost. I went into this game expecting that we would come out 3-3 and thinking that in all actuality, that wasn't too bad based on what I thought about the team coming into the season. But today the offense looked fucking good. I mean, fucking good. The defense fell apart at times, but the KC offense is solid. We shut down Priest Holmes for the most part, and with the exception of Brett Favre he might be the best offensive player of the last 5-10 years (I mean, Randy, Marshall Faulk, you can make arguments, but whatev). When you concentrate that hard on one person you will leave some open receivers, and KC played off that. Obviously you pick your battles against a team like that, and with the exception of the drives where we just caved, I was happy with the Packers decisions.

It just sucked that when we really needed something, when we needed a big 3rd down stop or a big tackle for a loss or a big touchdown or a big catch, for the most part, we fucking buckled. At least we did in the 4th quarter. Overall, we outplayed the fucking Chefs today, we really did, going into OT they had like 35 more passing yards and we had like 140 more rushing yards. We had almost 10 more first downs, spread the ball like a motherfucker, and without a scoreboard or a good memory no sane person watching this game could have imagined that the Chiefs were in it. Nonetheless, we lost. We didn't get screwed or anything, we just lost. It really sucks to outplay a team which is this good and end up blowing a win that would have been this big.

Enough, I refuse to further complain about my Pack-related woes for the day. I am watching the Bills get slaugtered and while I generally cheer for, rather than against Buffalo, Bledsoe is just getting hacked and its kind of amusing. Finally, in sports news, the Cubs are involved in a game 5 situation against the Marlins, at least a Cubs World Series appearance will redeem the underdogs.

I realized after finishing that paragraph that I have very little besides sports to discuss. I watched football and baseball all day yesterday. The only other interesting thing Katie and I have done was to visit a cute black-and-tan dauchshund at the pet store next to Damon's today. Katie went down there and saw it during half-time when she went for a walk, so we stopped by to see how much he was and maybe play with him for a while. Katie felt bad for the little dude, being in his cage, and she really wanted to name him Snickelfritz, based on her (somewhat resaonble) desire that all daschunds have German names. Katie wanted me to agree that we could get him, luckily, since he was a wiener-dog puppy at a pet store, I was simply able to agree that if we could possibly buy him we would. It turned out that this particular daschund must have had magical powers or something, because while I expected him to be 4-5 hundred dollars (far more than we can afford) he was nine-fucking-hundred-fucking-dollars. That is ridiculous, by the way, absolutely ricockulous. They will probably sell it too, someone will give them damn near a thousand dollars for a dog that you could get for a couple hundred from a breeder. It wasn't a perfect show-quality example of the breed either. I mean, it was a cute dog, but he had a spot on his face. He wouldn't have won you any money.

I like my animals, I really want a persian cat, knowing that I will pay 300 or so dollars for one when I could easily get a non-Persian kitty whenever I wanted one for 50 bucks at the pound. I am willing to pay a little more than the average folk for a really sweet pet, but 900 for a wiener-dog. Even the baddest dawg has to work pretty hard to be worth a g. I mean, a little mini-dog couldn't bring me my slippers (assuming 1) that it wanted to and 2) that I had any slippers to be fetched) it couldn't fetch the paper ( assuming 1) that it could get into my mailbox and 2) that I got the paper), it can hardly fetch a raquetball. Though I must admit, that wiener dogs chasing after raquetballs that they tend to overpursue and then have to backtrack for, which requres spinning thier tiny little legs, is fucking adorable. Regardless, our apartment remains wiener-dog free, at least for know. Over and oot.

Peace,

MB-K

No comments: