The Northern Illinois University Huskies are awesome.
The Northern Illinois University Huskies are awesome.
I promise I won’t write about fantasy football this year other than to show you my team. Last year, I had a thoroughly researched and well-documented round-by-round draft strategy and lists of who I wanted when. My team sucked ass. This year, I did absolutely no preparation before the draft other than look at a list Ben printed for me and find the issue of Sports Illustrated that ranks fantasy players. Well and I drank beer, but that’s a given. And this year, my team will be awesome. Or not. The thing with fantasy football can be summarized in three words: Nobody fucking knows.
I picked sixth in a 10-team league. (We used to be a 12-team league, which is much more badass, but the powers that be changed it this year.) And the good news is that I did better than Ben, always wins, picked last this year, accidentally picked two dudes who are suspended including someone named Isaiah Pead, better name his team I. Pead.
If you play fantasy football, good luck!
So here’s a hypothetical for you.
Let’s say I’m new to town and I start dating a guy. We’ll call him B. B is awesome and we have good times together, drinking beer and going to games and having romantic picnics in the park. B isn’t the best of all the guys in the world, but he’s perfect for me.
After a few years of bliss, B lets himself go. He starts to be bad at most things, doesn’t shower regularly, and becomes an all-around big old loser. I try for a while but am just not that into him any more because as they always say, if you don’t love yourself you can’t love anyone else and he doesn’t love himself and is just gross and there’s no point. I understand the value of loyalty but can’t shit away years of my life hanging around someone who has no respect for himself or anyone else. I dump him and pack up everything that reminds me of him and put it in the attic.
After another few years, B gets his shit together. He stops hanging around with assholes, starts working out, and honestly is really smokin’ hot now. Really hot. Like, off the top of my head, I could name maybe one guy in the world who’s as hot as he is, but it’s really close.
Would it be wrong for me to get back together with B?
Does your answer change if you find out B is a football team, not a dude?
If they make it to the Super Bowl, I’ll get shitfaced and live blog the whole thing. Maybe.
This was the best thing about being in labor all day on October 24, 2009. (Note: There is no best thing about being in labor all day, but amazing football helps.) We watched highlights from this game over and over and over and over. You know how at night ESPN repeats itself? So do I.
So, I have some substantive things to tell you about, I think, sometime soon. My week has pretty much been occupied by feeling weird and preparing for my fantasy football draft. Earlier this evening, I sat my son down and told him the following:
Son, you had one opportunity in life to mess with my fantasy football draft. That was the year I was pregnant with you and didn’t drink more than one beer maybe once or twice a month after the first trimester, which is useless in terms of fantasy football draft strategy. You don’t get to mess with my fantasy football draft tonight.
So while Ben and I were drafting, Soren played with Play Doh. He drew on Peaches with an orange highlighter. He partially dismantled Coltrane’s crate. He peed, sometimes where he was supposed to and sometimes not. He ran shrieking through the house. He did other things of which I’m sure I’ll become aware at an awkward time in the future, possibly with carrots.
If you know anything about me, you know I’m really serious about fantasy football. I love playing fantasy football. How well I do in fantasy football directly affects how much I enjoy any given NFL season. So you can imagine my dismay this year when I entered our draft lobby to see that I had the 12th pick (of 12 teams).
Okay, that sucks. But I prepared my strategy for this inauspicious beginning. I might end up having to decide between Marshawn Lynch and Matthew Stafford. Worse things could happen. I’ll probably get Jimmy Graham. (My original strategy was, briefly, as follows: Get an awesome QB. Get an awesome TE. Load up on RBs and WRs.) Okay, that’s cool. Picking last isn’t the end of the world, because you get to pick first in the second round. Jimmy Graham is awesome and I’m going to get him. I was really excited about getting Jimmy Graham.
But then something happened. A thing appeared on my screen saying the draft was over. I closed out of the draft and the main page for our league said that our draft wasn’t in progress. That was weird and it was almost time for the draft, so Ben and I were getting a little stressed. Finally, we were able to get into the draft lobby again and this time, I had the 11th pick and Ben had the 12th pick. It turned out our commissioner’s wife had some sort of problem getting in and he had to reset the draft. Then, long story short, Ben cried and the commissioner reset it again. So we had random draft order #3. This time, I had the 4th pick (Ben had 8th). This was a huge improvement for me, but if I can non-problem problem for a second, I was prepared to pick 12th and all of a sudden I was picking 4th and our draft was starting in less than a minute and holy crap I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after taking Aaron Rodgers.
So, anyway, here’s my team. I ended up with some guys (Larry Fitzgerald (2nd round), Santonio Holmes (10th round)) I really didn’t want to pick but they fell so far I figured what the hell.
So I loaded up on RBs and WRs and waited until the end to pick a D/ST and K. I failed at getting an awesome TE but got a fantastic QB.
QB Aaron Rodgers
RB Fred Jackson (LOL I originally had this as “Fred Rogers,” because it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Dork.)
RB Willis McGahee
RB Michael Bush
RB C.J. Spiller
RB Kendall Hunter
RB Delone Carter
WR Larry Fitzgerald
WR Dez Bryant
WR DeSean Jackson
WR Santonio Holmes
WR Michael Crabtree
TE Fred Davis
K Matt Bryant
And don’t worry, I won’t talk about my fantasy football team after this because I know nobody cares about my fantasy football team besides me. But this is what I’ve been thinking about all week. If you play fantasy football, good luck! I hope you have an awesome season!
Don’t worry — I’m not going to write about fantasy football as much as I did last year. But people really want to know who to take with the first pick, so here are my top 12 guys for the 2012 draft.
1. Arian Foster
2. Ray Rice
3. Aaron Rodgers
4. Tom Brady
5. LeSean McCoy
6. Calvin Johnson
7. Drew Brees
8. Chris Johnson
9. Andre Johnson
9. Matt Forte
10. Matthew Stafford
11. Maurice Jones-Drew
12. Marshawn Lynch
I think it would be reasonable to take Foster, Rice, Rodgers, or Brady with the #1 pick. Matthew Berry said something like this — you’re not going to win your league with your first pick, but you could lose it. This year, I recommend caution and when in doubt, going with the best available player in the first round, even when the best available player isn’t a running back.
(I love Larry Fitzgerald but can’t put him on this list because who in the hell is throwing to him.)
Update: For a little more on my 2012 fantasy football draft strategy and if you want to see who I actually drafted this year, go here. I had the 4th pick. I think I did okay.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday cupcakes!!
As far as I know, he hasn’t even seen a cupcake in like a month, since we were at his friend’s birthday party (for the record, he didn’t even eat a cupcake that day — he had a gigantic piece of the “adult” cake, which involved browned butter, chocolate mousse, and hazelnut frosting).
Today at dinner, he stood on his chair, giving his jambalaya the side-eye (Ben even used my recipe!), requesting cupcakes over and over and over (as toddlers are wont to do). The boy loves some cupcakes. And we didn’t have any, and even if we did we wouldn’t have given him one right then and there, and he pretty much got over it and ate at least some of his dinner, so that was cool.
At first, I took a hard-line position against sweets. Babies don’t need sweets, I thought. And that’s true. Babies don’t need sweets. I freaked out about whether to give Soren cake for his first birthday. Then I got over myself and gave him a homemade pumpkin cupcake. And then I realized that, hey, I enjoy dessert once in a while (if by “once in a while” I mean “several times a week”), and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with enjoying a little dessert.
So after working all day, running 6.3 miles at the gym, and hanging out with Ben and Soren for a bit, I made some cupcakes while Andre Miller got a shoulder contusion and the Nuggets were summarily dismantled by the Mavericks. Soren was asleep by then so he doesn’t even know the cupcakes exist yet, but boy will he be excited tomorrow.
I’d been wanting to make strawberry cupcakes for a while, but most of the strawberry cupcake recipes I’ve ever found on the internet are kind of horrifying and include things like jello, which, well, gross and not vegetarian. I figured I’d make my default vanilla cupcakes with strawberry frosting, but when searching for a strawberry frosting recipe, I found a strawberry cupcake recipe that didn’t terrify me.
So I made strawberry cupcakes, pretty much following the recipe (I used 2 eggs and the equivalent of 4 eggs of Ener-G egg replacer, because I didn’t want to use egg whites because it seems wasteful to just toss 4 yolks and I didn’t have any other use for them in the immediate future) with my usual altitude adjustments. I think I added extra strawberry puree to the frosting (I used what was left in the blender and didn’t measure it). I doubled the cupcakes and did not double the frosting, and it ended up being the exact right amount of frosting for the cupcakes. The cupcakes themselves are decent — mine came out dense (I suspect I might be overmixing) and the strawberry flavor is very, very subtle. The frosting, however, is the shit — it’s so good the cupcakes function merely as a frosting-delivery device so their lack of flavor is pretty much immaterial. Mmmmm frosting. It’s definitely worth adding to your dessert arsenal.
Holy crap I’m tired.
In other news, this is the greatest day in the history of days because Peyton Manning is coming to Denver and that means, if all goes well, Tim Tebow will be leaving Denver. I am so excited about this I was hoping everybody’s work would close and the whole city could go out for a beer to celebrate, but unfortunately that didn’t happen. Oh well. There are plenty of good, Tebow-free days ahead of us. This is weird, but for the first time in years (since Josh McDaniels was hired as head coach), I’ll have no reason to hate the Broncos. I’m not sure what to do now.
Last night, while doing my normal thing reading Sports Illustrated in bed, I learned that Arian Foster, Houston Texans running back, is awesome. I always like someone who could be referred to as “a little different” — and that’s Arian Foster. He hung out and talked to people at Occupy Wall Street in New York. He studied Buddhism. He bows after touchdowns, a Namaste to football. With all we’ve been hearing lately about Christianity in sports, it’s so refreshing to see something, well, a little different.
More on Arian Foster:
I am so not going to become one of those people who talks about Tim Tebow all the time. I promise. I wrote my post about why I hate him and figured I’d be done with it. Since then, a few things have happened. To wit:
He has not fizzled out and gone away. Today as I was driving home from the gym, Mark Schlereth was on local sports radio saying something to the effect of, “Yes, I believe that Tim Tebow is in fact touched by the hand of God.” That is not an exact quote but I swear it’s close. I’m starting to worry that the world is so far up Tim Tebow’s butt that it’s going to get out of control. Maybe one day, Tim Tebow will lead the Broncos to the Super Bowl. He’ll eclipse John Elway as the golden boy of Denver sports. Eventually, he’ll become mayor and replace the entire school board with his pals who will implement a strict creationist curriculum complete with frequent teacher-led prayer and homework involving Tebowing in various locations around the city. We’ll have to either move to a suburb in which we wouldn’t mind living, which would be ?????, or somebody would have to quit working so we can homeschool. Eventually Tim Tebow will become the governor, at which point we’d, I don’t know, move back to Illinois because at least their governors are a kind of crazy I can understand.
Then there’s the most jacked thing I’ve ever seen on the internet. Today I was checking my @ replies at Twitter and saw this:
The link takes you to a story on Yahoo! sports about how some dude — okay wait, this is one of those instances I learned about from a short man who wore way too much cologne in high school creative writing class, where I should show instead of telling. So here you go.
Sorry about my language and allcaps here, but WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!! WHAT IS THIS?! HOW DO WE LIVE IN A UNIVERSE WHERE THIS IS POSSIBLE?
I mean, Tim Tebow is a centaur? I think he’s holding a cross in his hand? He might or might not have a head inside that helmet? And Tebow Time? “[I]n a font like you’d see on the cover of a children’s book about an enchanted princess or maybe on a bottle of horse shampoo,” as MJD, author of the Yahoo! post observed? With such a delicate loop in the b? A centaur? As a Sagittarius, can I be extra offended by this? Tebow Time? Really?
The mental distress I’m experiencing as a result of viewing this image has rendered me incapable of writing in anything other than questions? I just can’t even? ?????
Today, Mike Leach was hired to be the football coach at Washington State. Do you remember the time he blamed poor performance on the “fat little girlfriends” of his players?