Fantasy Football

They’re already saying I’m a bust. They think it’s over for ol’ Smithy, but I’ll show ‘em.

Takes swig of whiskey off bottle

If O’Sullivan thinks we can swoop in with his mic charm and take a job that is rightfully mine he has another thing coming. Fucking pussified hippy. He couldn’t even make the practice squad at Utah. Finally, we finally get a competent offensive coordinator in Mike Martz after three years of beshitted idiots strolling through the door, and they find another starter. I have potential, God damn it. No one is going to draft J.T. O’Mcdicksuck in the tenth round of their fantasy drafts hoping for a dark horse. Oh, and what do they blame my downfall on? My hands. My fuckin’ hands, man. Look at ‘em.

Exquisite. And might I remind you they weren’t too small in college. Nope, not a fucking liability then. You think someone with little hands is carrying Utah to 13-0? Utah? Give me a fuckin’ break.

small bottle of Jack slips to the ground for no particular reason

Damn it. Not fucking again. How many times this month is that? Who the fuck am I kidding? I can’t even get drunk unless I’m sucking on a beer bong. I might as well hang it up….Hold on a second.

Notices sippy cup sitting on counter. Opens new bottle of whiskey and begins to pour it into said cup.

Get your head out of your ass, Alex. This isn’t the time for wallowing in self-pity, this is time for rejuvenation. If there is a way to get drunk with impossibly undersized appendages, then by God, there is a way to compete on the football field just the same.

cup slips out of hand for no particular reason

NOOOOOOO!!!!

That is it for ol’ Smithy. Close the curtain, cut the lights, this show is over. I can’t even drink my precious sweet Jack out of a sippy cup without dropping it like I’m staring at a dinosaur. But wait!

Pro Bowl 2009, here I come!