Posts Tagged ‘jets

24
Jan
11

Wanna get drunk and fool around? *

Dear Shelly,

Thanks for making my 23rd birthday so memorable. For once, I had people to celebrate with me on my special day. Typically, it came at the end of summer right after camp, and right before school. However, for some reason in 2004 the end of camp coincided precisely with my day of entry into this great world. Crap, what started out as an upbeat letter just became incredibly depressing for me to write. Was I really going to summer camp in my mid 20′s? The answer, obviously (and somewhat pathetically), is you are goddamned right I was! And if that isn’t pathetic enough, I’ll be going back this summer since I have nothing else to do. If you don’t think I’m not-so-secretly psyched about this, you are an effing moron. Anyway, back to you, Shelly…maybe you can come back to and we can make out again on my birthday?

So since it was the end of camp, it was also counselor party, and naturally, we were pretty much all s-faced. Not the owner of camp however, he has been banned from the party since the mid 90s for hitting on females a couple of generations younger than him, which if you ask me, is awesome. Anyhoo, since it was my birfday someone had grabbed hold of some champagne bottles, made a toast and gave me a bottle of my own, which I guzzled. Quickly. So quickly in fact that I felt the need to regurgitate some quality camp food. So, I made a solo lap around the camp grounds, did a bit of puking, all while trying my best to finish the bottle. I accomplished this, stuffed three pieces of gum in my mouth and made my way back to the group.

Upon return I thought it would be a good idea to announce, “Ok, who is going behind the cabin to make out with me…it is my birthday after all.” I really didn’t think it would lead to much, but thanks to you Shelly, I did indeed get a pretty sweet makeout session that night.  There was a butt grab here, a boob grab there, and all was right with the world; even though I’m pretty sure you went and did more than make out with the camp man-whore later that night. I can’t really begrudge you that though, there is no way I would have been able to perform given my state. I probably would’ve acted a lot like Mark Sanchez did last night…totally frazzled and appear completely out of place for much of the session, before trying my best towards the end to make up for it, before screwing it up again at the end. Only it would have been you I would’ve annoyed, not an entire fan base. Yet I digress.

I think we’ve covered it well though…like I said, thanks for making out with me.

Scott (oh wait, that’s the guy you effed after making out with me).

ps – I’ll be 30 at the end of this camp summer, think I can pull out the same lines?

*Jaws

17
Jan
11

I wish I knew how to quit you.

Dear Professional Sports,

I write to you today from inside my home on this beautiful day because I am too weary to do anything outside (well, it is als0 -3 out, and I need to break myself in after spending a week in 80 degree sun).  I am physically weary because not only did I have to stomach watching my beloved Patriots lose to the Jets last night, I had to do it in Newark International Airport.  Drowning my sorrows at the bar was not an option, since they were all filled with Jets fans; so instead I just roamed Terminal C like I had roamed Seven Mile Beach in Grand Cayman the entire preceeding week.  Unfortunately, the eye candy in Hudson Books and so forth was not quite up to par.  So, I just walked, and walked, with my hood up and my headphones on trying to avoid crying, punching the walls, or both…I managed to avoid tears, but I do have one or two bruised knuckles.

I am mentally weary because for the entire second half of last week, I thought of pretty much nothing but the Patriots Jets game.  And yes, I realize that is only one of MANY reasons I don’t currently have a girlfriend.  Then, to have them completely outclassed and end their season prematurely effing kills me, especially to the Jets.  My point is, what is the point to caring so much?  Thinking of the pain you have caused me recently – Bruins choking a 3-0 playoff lead AND 3-0 game 7 lead to Philly, Celtics up by 13 in game 7 against the Lakers and losing, Red Sox not even making the playoffs in 2010, and now last night…

Why do I care so much about you effing athletes, who don’t really give a crap about me.  Something tells me Tom Brady, David Ortiz or Rajon Rondo weren’t too happy for me when I finished my graduate program last month.  Most athletes on Boston sports teams are not actually from Boston, they are merely hired mercenaries.  I want to break up with you so badly, but like the quote says, I can’t quit you…I just don’t know why…but then I watch clips like this one -

and this one -

And all is right with the world.

Forever yours,

Tom David Rondo

*Brokeback Mountain




Letters sent…

December 2012
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