Yeah man, Saturday night it’s on! J-E-T-S! Jets! Jets! Jets!
Since the Giants are out of the playoffs I think it’s only fair that all of their fans give us their support for the remainder of the season. I think we can safely say that no one wants the Eagles or the Patriots to win the Superbowl. A hearty and robust THANK YOU to all of the Giants fans who are now transferring their good thoughts to the Jets.
Now, if I may, let’s switch gears briefly and discuss one more wonderful moment in the life of Andrea. Specifically, let’s talk about yet another commute that had me questioning whether I actually wear a sign that only the wretched and despondent can see which reads…
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
…because whenever anyone sits beside me on the subway, this person is a filthy, loud, fat, obnoxious mess! I am like the Statue of Freaking Liberty and the seat next to me is like Ellis Island but not the glorious Ellis Island that we are proud of. Oh no. My personal Ellis Island really is more akin to the door to the asylum – you know, the door you enter before you are made to strip naked, shower, and receive medication.
Today I was on the train as I always am (Note to self: Hire a driver when financially possible) and no one was next to me because The Blob was two seats away and there was no room beside me. But, as usually happens, some turd decides to challenge the laws of the universe and squeezes her ass into the crevice between us. Not only does her one ass cheek land on my leg (Note to self: Bleach pants and leg when I get home) but she is all loud and obnoxious about not being able to fit.
THEN STAND, BITCH.
That is right, folks. I have The Blob to my extreme left, a loud-mouthed Jesus freak to my immediate left and Grimace directly across from me. The greatest morning of my life, it was not.
However, what does not kill us makes me stronger, yes? So, since I’m an eternal optimistic, hopeless romantic, and supreme motivator I will not concentrate on those fucktards who ruined my commute since that is my doom, I mean my fate.
Instead, I will leave you with a humble plea to ask the Lord on high to please please please let the Jets win on Saturday and let the winning not stop until we have played an hour in Dallas and the season comes to an end. Amen.