One Awkward Farewell

Ho Ho Ho! Christmas is right around the corner - is everyone ready? I am not. I'm still feeling a little lacking in spirit, overwhelmed, like nothing's in its right place.  Work to finish, cookies to bake, "Love Actually" to watch 16 times (min), gifts to wrap, gifts to buy. Everyone might just get a coupon for One Free Hug this year. And some special people will get coupons for One Free Stevie Wonder. Ha, no! No one's getting an SW - I'm just going to beat that joke into the ground. And then lie down next to it and make my butt clap.

 

AAAAAAH!

 

No, no, no. I just wanted to start off with some silly stuff because I have some sad, sad news to share. A Dynasty has fallen. The HoBags have been defeated. After 14 hard-fought weeks, we've been eliminated for the 2010 season, just one game away from the top. It's a tough break, sure, but we're all taking it OK, I think. Except for DeSean Jackson who totally cried into his quiche at the post-game brunch.

It helps that we were toppled by a worthy opponent; a solid team helmed by QB Michael Vick, a man who is currently living literally my favorite thing in the world: a sports-related moral comeback.

I'm already working on scripts for the movie version of his life. It will be like "The Wrestler" meets "Lassie," starring Jamie Foxx as MV (my search history now contains "black actors who look like Michael Vick," yikes), and me, obviously, as his tough-as-nails, slightly trashy lady love/baby momma who teaches him how to love, to live, to be a man. Post-prison he returns to the field, stronger, more focused - he rebuilds his relationship with his children and eventually the courts award him the right to own a dog. Then, one desperate Sunday, after his team (Fantasy, not the Eagles, let's stay grounded in reality here) is defeated by the HoBags, weakness takes over. He drives to his old neighborhood, to the dog fighting pits, but when he gets there, his former dog fighter friends are angry with him for blowing up their spot - and they beat him senseless, leaving him for dead. And kidnapping his dog! But then, his brave, strong pit bull, Conan (after O'Brien, MV's favorite late night host) escapes from the captors and rescues Vick, moments before death.

"You saved me," Vick whispers, urgently, pressing his face into Conan's fur. "You. Saved. Me." He weeps. Conan licks away his tears.

AND SCENE.  (The Oscars have just been renamed the LizHos.)

But I digress. This isn't about Michael Vick, it's about the HoBags. A team full of strength, courage, wisdom, humor, talent, running ability, good catching hands and sex appeal. They are the greatest group of men I have ever pretended to know. My heroes.

We'll reunite this spring for our annual team retreat (this year: Colonial Williamsburg!) but until then, send us home, Boyz.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7aBGh9tJWg]

One Awkward Pep Talk

Hi everyone. I'm VERY stressed out right now. You all remember The HoBags, of course. (Hiiii Ron Livingston!!) Well, they have a big, big weekend ahead and I'm just so nervous for my boys. We started out strong, leading the league for several weeks, but hit a rough patch towards the end of the season. Who's to say where it went wrong - was it my fault, for that one time I accidentally started half a team on bye weeks, and we lost to the last place team? Was it Dez Bryant's fault, for choking under pressure? Was it Greg Olsen's fault for being a fucking terrible tight end? Maybe it's a little bit of everyone's fault - there's no I in TEAM, after all - but I'm still placing most of the blame on Olsen. I mean, I don't actually know what a tight end does, but I don't think you're doing it right, Greg!! No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You had an off week, followed by another off week, but you've got a lot of heart, kid, and you're as valuable as any of the other players (except for all of the other players, zing!) and I need you to play your best this week. Because the HoBags are in the Playofffssss.

And we are ranked to lose :/

This is a really big moment for me! Shockingly, I've never exactly excelled at anything athletic. Well, I was voted MVP of the soccer team in high school...the JV team, that is. "Congratulations, you are the best of all of the worst players on our team!" Once, my coach actually told me that my role as lead bench warmer was as valuable as playing in the game. "You're just so spirited and enthusiastic. No need to put your cleats on, you won't be going in." And, even though I now know that spirit and enthusiasm are much more important life skills than kicking a ball really hard, that was some pretty tough criticism for an overachieving 17-year-old to handle. (Also, Backup Quarterback Carson Palmer, if you're reading this, I meant what I said this morning. I really do value your spirit and enthusiasm on the bench! And no, you still can't play.)

So, anyway, because I'm such a neurotic weirdo, still recovering from a lifetime of athletic rejection, I'm placing a lot of unrealized dreams in the hands of my Fantasy Football team. I really want to win this thing. But, also, I'm being such a girl about it. I have a hard time dropping or adding players, not just because I don't know how to do a waiver-trade (that's a thing, right?), but also because I can't stand the thought of breaking up the crew.

"I know he might be up against a tough defense this week, but I just can't not start Rashard Mendenhall. He's just been so good to me this year, played so hard for me, I can't betray him like that."

Um...Rashard Mendenhall doesn't know you, Liz. Nor does he play well for the HoBags, which is just an imaginary team ranked by some sports nerd out in internet world. He plays well for the Pittsburgh Steelers - because he loves competition, and money, and banging chicks (probably? That's what sports are about, right?), but as far as the HoBags are concerned, well, I don't think he knows they exist.

And yet...and yet. I just can't let him go. So he'll be starting this week, along with the rest of my original lineup, including potentially still injured tight end Zach Miller (which means, whoops, Greg Olsen, looks like you're cut after all...). This may make us underdogs, but so were the Mighty Ducks, and I think we all know how that turned out.

Go get 'em, boys!

One Awkward Reason Not To Make Promises On Facebook

Dear all - I'm having some techincal difficulties and I'm really distraught about the state of Hollywood Romance this week (call me, Zefron! I love you!!) and I need to work on my lineup for the Fantasy Football playoffs so, please don't cry, there will be no blog tonight. Except for this paragraph which, classic Liz!, is just a bunch of words typed out into sentences filling up the page, so it looks like I blogged, since I told everyone on Facebook I was going to blog every day and no one likes a Facebook liar and I really, really, really want you all to love me, so I couldn't just take the night off, I have a reputtion to uphold, and I forget where this sentence is going so THE END.  Complainers are removed from the guest list for the Stripper Showcase so let's all just go to bed and rest easy knowing that I'll be back tomorrow, yaaaay! Stevie Wonders for everyone!  

PS: If you any of you are NFL tight ends (LOL tight ends) who might be interested in playing for the HoBags this weekend please e-mail me ASAP. We're all going out for pizza after the game!!!!