You know in the Blogosphere, Monday is the most important day of the week. Its the time when everyone gets back on their computer and says “Gee this raging hangover sucks, I’m going to zone out for the next 4 to 5 hours, contemplate some of these life choices, pretend I’m doing work and read Thoughts From A Fat White Guy”. Well congrats on achieving middle-management, you are the reason we do like 20,000 hits on a Monday and by Friday we barely register a blip. Well, imagine how bad I feel that yesterday I didn’t post any fresh content.
Let’s say I had my own “demons” to deal with after St. Patrick’s day festivities in Boston. I never want to see that many angry, drunk, pale skinned individuals in one place ever again….or unless I’m ever at a UVA football game again.
See, I had to drive back to Rochester, NY to see the family (I call it keeping up appearances). Not only that but with the NFL site such a huge success, we’ve decided to go forth and spew our opinions all over Major League Baseball….so we’re prepping the launch of Thoughts From a Fat White Guy: MLB Edition. Thus beginning another ridiculous chapter in my obscure career.
That’s all for now, enjoy the visual stimulation, and I appreciate your continued support of what we (the royal we, dude) are trying to do here: Provide journalistically irresponsibly opinions on college and professional sports, while watching our arteries slowly clog.
Oh, Some Final Thoughts:
I saw Brady Quinn got traded and Jakey D got resigned. I wish someone would pay me $20 million to be mediocre at my job. Instead, they pay me nothing, and I’m still mediocre.
I received a call from Coach Randy Edsall this morning. For those new to the site (try and keep up), he’s my former head coach. Even though its been almost 2 years since he’s been in control of my every move, the phone rings, I see its him and my heart just drops. “No! No! No more 6am runs….no…I didn’t miss breakfast check.” I’ll chalk it up to the amount of undying respect I have for the man, but I could do without the self-soiling that occurrs in that brief moment of terror.