Peyton Manning's chin, Bridget Moynahan's Baby Daddy, John Gruden's visor, Bill Bellicheck's gray sweatshirt (with the cut-off sleeves), Ben Roethlisberger's giant disgusting head, Bill Cowher's spittle, Joe Buck's toupee, Tom Brady's cleft chin, T.O.'s ass muscles, Jeff Garcia's poodle, Ted Johnson's neck, Donovan McNabb's mother, Bill Parcells' man boobs, Shannon Sharpe's wardrobe. AND PLAYING BOCCE BALL...
ANYONE! I don't care what kind of loser-degenerate-oversexed-undersexed-pathetic-immature-lose
r you are!! I am a MYSPACE FRIEND SLUTBAG WHORE and I am so eager for your approval that I will add you as a friend... even if you have no idea who I am. I just don't a give a shit!
I'd also like to meet BRETT FAVRE again on a cold windy night, lying infront of a fireplace wrapped in nothing but a bear skin. Ideally, there would be rain falling on the tin roof, vanilla scented candles on the windowsill... and some condoms in my wallet...
Movies? Who need movies for entertainment when I can have complete control of the TELESTRATOR during football games? Or watch Chad Johnson give CPR to the football after a touchdown?
Cold Pizza, ESPN, NFL Network, Sirius Satellite radio (for Howard Stern and NFL coverage).
"Catch This" by T.O., "The Education of a Coach," "All Madden: Hey, I'm Talking Pro Football," by yours truly.
Bandwagon Red Sox fans (but of course they don't exist because none of them think they are a bandwagon fans). Myself. And Al Michaels. And that young stallion, Eli Manning. He's just like his brother... only younger. And I like that.