I would post something incredibly and insightful about my kitties tonight…except I’m too busy hating football again. The cats hid in closets and under beds to avoid my wrath today. My fantasy football teams are complete crap. I was a 20-point favorite in one. Julio Jones, you kill me. I’m now 0-4 in my other league, and I have the most points scored against me, even though my own points would put me in 2nd if fantasy football went that way. But it doesn’t, so what that means is the person I play each week has an outstanding week, and despite the fact that my team is consistently good, it’s not enough THAT WEEK.
On the plus side, I did get a laptop, so I can watch my fantasy football demise from anywhere! Well, I could do that with my phone, too. I did get the iPhone5. It’s so much faster. I like. The best part is that the camera takes much less time to load, giving me a better chance of getting a good kitty pic while something is happening.
I also had to watch the Bucs game on my laptop because the game was blacked out locally. It looked pretty full to me, but what do I know? Thank goodness for the internet and streaming. Unfortunately, I had to watch them LOSE. So close, yet so far. Last minute heartbreak.
The Sunday night game, which I am currently watching (while writing this! I love having a laptop. Amazing.) features a team with a quarterback that I would not mind seeing crippled. I’m not saying that because it would benefit my fantasy football team, it’s because it’s Michael Vick. I don’t think people who kill dogs in cold blood ever really “change.” I don’t care how good he is, I’ll never put him on my fantasy team. I cheer for the defense of whoever he’s playing.
This is a very all-over-the-place post. Sunday venting. So cathartic.
I love football. I love football season. I remain dedicated to my Bucs even when they have years like last year, and I even watch them online when the game is blacked out because everyone else jumped off the bandwagon and won’t go to games. I love going to games, but it’s an expensive day. Beer is EIGHT DOLLARS! 3 hours of $8 beers gets expensive, and on top of that they cut the beer off for the 4th quarter, which is just about the time everyone has drunk enough that they want to continue drinking heavily. But despite this, and despite the fact that I hate people, particularly loud sweaty people in crowds, I still love going to games. I just can’t do it 8 games a season. My couch is so comfortable. Beer is so cheap here. I can annoy the cats while I watch football, although they’re usually passed out asleep somewhere on Sundays, so asleep that they don’t even bat an eye when the boyfriend or I yells obscenities at the TV.
Which brings me to the issue at hand. There’s a lot of yelling in my house these days. You see, I play fantasy football. And my teams are taking a giant Taco-sized poop. I seem to be bad luck for running backs, I have two injured ones right now, and I have the backup for one of those injured ones in my other league, and he just got hurt today too.
So I’m sitting here watching the Sunday night game hoping Tom Brady’s arm magically falls off, because that’s pretty much the only way I’m going to win. Oh, and in addition to that, it would help if they decided that since Brady’s arm fell off, they should just kick field goals for the rest of the game. I have the New England kicker. That would be nice.
I’m not even going to mention the Bucs’ performance today, because it seems to me that they didn’t actually PLAY in the game, they just went to hang out with the Cowboys.
I have to admit, I love my fair share of horrid reality shows. I watch Dance Moms, So You Think You Can Dance, Jersey Shore and some new one I found on CMT, Cheer. I have, as of this moment, been able to resist Honey Boo Boo. The only reason I know about Honey Boo Boo is that this child and her redneckiness make the news. Really? The NEWS? Because there’s not, you know, an election coming up, or political unrest, or other completely valid news-y things to report on. With the exception of Jersey Shore, I maintain that my reality show watching is at least based on hard work and talent. I suppose child pageants have talent shows, but still.
I did, actually, answer the My Cat From Hell casting call. They’re finally branching out from LA, which is good, because Florida is nowhere near LA, and in fact, I’ve never been there. I wrote a very compelling email, and then guided them to my blog. I don’t know if it will even get read, but this blog is as comprehensive as you can possibly get in documenting all of my cats’ issues. I am HOPING that the producers find my cat pee couch story interesting enough that they help me. Cat pee couch hasn’t been done on the show yet. And I really really really want to fix Taco and have my couch back.
And it does cause problems in my relationship. The boyfriend is not as connected to the boys as I am, although I know he loves them dearly, but he’s definitely not on crazy cat lady status. It’s frustrating enough to have a cat peeing on the couch and being personally upset by it, and then add in the friction of the boyfriend’s frustration and some weird form of guilt (I was raised catholic, although I’m an atheist now, the catholic guilt is ENGRAINED permanently) because we most likely wouldn’t have cats if I wasn’t a crazy cat lady who needs cats.
Anyway. I hope they at least give me a chance. We’re very interesting, and Taco could have his OWN damn show. Not to take away from Moosh, he’s my lover kitty, and Taco is the entertaining one. He’s also more photogenic, and I do kind of feel bad that I have more pictures of Taco on my instagram than Moosh, but half the time when I take Moosh’s pic he just looks like a ball of black fur.
Oh, and my favorite reality show of all? FOOTBALL! Sundays are fun days again. Except when my fantasy team loses, which is likely this week as my tight end got me a big fat goose egg on Thursday. Can’t win em all, I suppose.
Taking a break from obsessing about cats for a post. So I’ll talk about my other, more seasonal obsession. Football. I love football almost as much as I love cats. My Sundays are empty without it. I crave it. Don’t even get me started on my fantasy football, I tinker with my lineup all week and check the scores every five minutes. I yell at my TV. I yell at my phone when my fantasy app crashes. I yell every time another football player gets arrested (way to go, Eric Wright, how the eff did you get a FELONY DUI? Couldn’t just get a misdemenor like everyone else?).
And today, I am annoyed with the Arian Foster story. In case you don’t know, Arian Foster is one of the top running backs in the league. He doesn’t play for the Bucs, though, so the only way this story affects me personally is if I draft him in fantasy football, which there is only a slight chance of since there are 11 other people that will be vying for him as well.
So the story is that he went vegan. And it’s caused an uproar. In response to this uproar, I believe Mr. Foster said it best: “People feel so strong about meat and milk. I wish they felt this strong about peace.”
Like, really. I highly doubt that a guy who makes as much money as he does by RELYING on his body to work the way it does is taking this decision lightly. I remember when I was 15 and went vegetarian and all I ate was chips and french fries…yeah, that didn’t work out so well…but I know a lot more now and even if he doesn’t, he has the money to pay people who do. I can make all the arguments in the world about how humans aren’t really meant to consume meat and dairy…but I won’t. I can only speak from experience in saying that it is easier for me to lose weight, I have more energy, and I feel better since I gave up all that crap. And granted, I’m not working out 8 hours a day or whatever but I AM in the gym 5 times a week for mostly lifting because I hate cardio, and there has been no difference in how I build muscle.
Yes, people, there ARE other sources of protein. I know this is like saying the world is coming to an end, but please try to understand. While we’re at it, can you also stop acting so offended that I have personally chosen the path of no animal products? Are you afraid I’m going to take YOURS away? I’m not. I don’t care what you do. Really, I don’t.
I might not draft Arian Foster this year, but that’s only because running backs are on the decline and I’d rather get a solid tight end in the first round. Maybe like Tony Gonzalez. Also one of the best at his position. Also vegan.