BRETTBACK MOUNTAIN

It’s hard for me to concentrate on my marathon training these days. That’s my latest excuse for falling behind in my posts. You see, I’m a die-hard Green Bay Packers fan. In fact, once, when my Dad and I got into a knife fight at a nudie bar (he’s a Chicago Bears fan), he stabbed me in my left ventricle and I ACTUALLY bled green and gold (the Packers’ colors). I also bled red as well (and lost 5 pints of blood). Pops stabbed me in the back, too, but that wasn’t with a knife; that was figuratively—I caught him having sex with my fiancée. Needless to say, I didn’t end up marrying Carol. My Dad did. Now, Carol is my stepmom, which is kind of weird. And did I mention that Carol was carrying my baby at the time? So now, three years later, my son is also my stepbrother. That’s kind of weird, too. And did I mention that Carol’s my stepsister? And that… Well, let’s just not go there.

So there’s a Wisconsin civil war going on in Green Bay now, with QB Brett Favre and the Packers feuding over the possibility of Brett coming out of retirement. I love Brett. I love the Packers. Who do I choose? Who CAN I chose? This decision is tougher than Sophie’s Choice. And there’s more on the line. But I’m gonna have to go with Brett here. The man is my idol. I have his jersey, action figures, posters, address (I hired a private eye to get it, but the restraining order prevents me from any further attempts at trying to invade the Favres’ home). I even once dated a girl just because she looked like Brett (although kissing a chick with beard stubble is weird). And when I save up enough money, I plan on having plastic surgery so I look exactly like Brett.

Unfortunately, though, I’m still paying off the bills from my last facial plastic surgery from 12 years ago. You see, my former idol was that kid from JERRY MAGUIRE, and unwisely, after seeing and falling in love with that film (JERRY MAGUIRE had me at the opening credits), I had my face reconfigured so I looked like Jonathan Lipnicki (come on, that kid stole the movie!). But there’s something strange about having a six-year-old’s head on a 21 year old’s body. I haven’t really been a force on the dating scene since then.

Anyway, I’m straying off the subject and, once again, babbling like a brook. I guess I’ll talk more about Brett in future posts, so I’ll just leave it at this for now: I love the Packers, but I love Brett more. Just like the way Jake Gyllenhaal felt about Heath Ledger in BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, I wish I knew how to quit Brett. But I can’t. And I don’t mean quit Brett in a gay cowboy sort of way (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I mean it in a scary, taking-things-too-far, devout, extremist football fan way (and there’s probably SOMETHING wrong with that).

Brett is like the father I never had. Well, as you know, I DID have a father, but he stabbed me with a knife once and then stole my fiancée and turned her into my stepmom, and now I go to therapy three times a week because I have a serious oedipal complex. Brett would never do those things to me. And if he did, well, I’d be OK with that. Because having Brett Favre as my father would be the coolest thing on earth, and I would let him stick a knife in my heart and bang my girlfriend any day of the week. Did I mention that my REAL father is also my uncle…

Monday, June 30 – Sunday, July 6

RUNNING
24 miles (total for week)

DRINKING
8 beers/night (approx 112 oz., with Sunday off)

SLEEP
Approx. 5 hrs./night