Dear Diary,
I went out for ice cream two days ago. I know I shouldn’t have sugar. What started out as a banana-split turned into fifteen Choco-Taco’s, four Dr. Peppers, and a half-eaten Churro that a nine-year-old Pygmy at the bus stop sold me for five dollars. It’s been days since I’ve slept or had any nutrition. I don’t know where my car is. Maybe I don’t even have a car?
I’m pretty sure my life isn’t real sometimes. I am often concerned that I’m not really Pete Carroll, head coach of the Seattle Seahawks, and that I might be in a ten-year LSD-fueled demented craze--that maybe I’m not really on the side-lines making terrible calls that put these players in severe jeopardy…
What if I’m really just a transient loner, under a bridge, whose brain has been forever burnt by hallucinogenic drug use, and am now living day-to-day on a healthy glue-sniffing regiment?
Perhaps these ‘Seahawks’ I have been ‘Coaching’ all this time are just old beer bottles filled with piss that I yell at all day?
No, that can’t be true. Pete Carroll is pretty sure Pete Carroll has said no to drugs. I’m also pretty sure that I DVR’d ‘Boy Meets World’ finally. I can only hope that I can end this season in a disastrous, swollen cluster-fuck so I can sit down in peace and quiet and soak in the 3 wondrous episodes we are graciously given each year.
With that being said Mr. Diary, My goal is almost complete: turn the Seahawks into a five-year losing franchise worth less than shit baked to the brick wall of the Mayor’s Office. Then they will let me go; they would have to. How glorious would that be? I could finally start following my dream: becoming a Summer Camp Counselor. Ah yes, and my free-time would be spent soaking in all those 90‘s sitcoms I missed out on during all those years I wasted trying to bring down the Vikings & Jets.
Will they finally fire me today? Oh Lord why won‘t you let me be free?! I should be asking Satan this question, because only in a world driven by the cancerous pains of Hell would I be allowed to coach an NFL Football Team.
We are 1-2 going into the Falcons this week. Let’s make sure at the end of it our Vagina’s will cry in terror at the pounding Atlanta’s throbbing Weiner has laid upon us.
I just have to get this pesky season over with hopefully 3 wins or less and the deal will be sealed.
Fuck you Seattle.
When I was 10 I wrote a letter to Good Humor-Dreyers and told them about my genius idea of putting caramel filling inside of the Choco-Taco. However, to my knowledge, no changes have been made to the recipe, and for the last 18 years I've been forced to inject all of my Tacos with a crude home-made candy apparatus.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, I have exactly zero things to contribute regarding the Seahawks and/or Pete Carroll. Except for the fact that I think that the majority of professional ahletes in the U.S. are over-paid, ungrateful pieces of garbage. See how I covered my ass there by saying the 'majority of' instead of 'all'?