The Sports Bizzo

By an empty shell that used to be Toph…

I’ve been trying to figure out how was going to approach this article. I’ve been putting it off for a couple of days now, and I’ve tried writing it, but it didn’t work. I’ve opened a couple of different ways.

I’ll show you.

I started one with, “Welcome to December, Tony Romo, we’ve sure missed you.”

Another one with, “Maybe it’s too early in December, but I really am damned sick of the Cowboys and month. The Cowboys and December is like Michael Jordan and baseball, Tiffany Amber Thiessen and 90210, Julie Roberts and Lyle Lovett, Britney and K-Fed. The shit just don’t make no kinds of sense.”

I’ve also went with, “If this is God’s team, then why does he curse them in Baby Jesus’ birth month?”

Basically, I’m too depressed to really write anything. I’m forcing it like a 4th quarter Romo pass. You know it should be on target, and you expect greatness, but it just misses and gets picked off for a touchdown.

I don’t know what else to say. They must win the next 3? Whatever. I hate my life. Not even Plax shooting himself can make me smile.

Speaking of, the Cowboys play the Giants Sunday night. I think I’m just going to drink wine and watch Desperate Housewives. It’s all so meaningless right now.

Not even the Cowboys cheerleaders can make me happy. OK, that’s not true. I’m hurt, I’m not gay.