"I tell you this, Tony. Sometimes they can smell fresh cash."

Listening to the Tony Romo To Be Dipped in Gold!!!!!!!!!!! press conference. Just heard him say he is going to buy a house but needs someone to decorate it (dude, don't lay it on quite so thick). Someone yelled "BRITNEY!" followed by a "not funny, dude!" which was correct. I don't think Britney would be a good choice when it comes to hiring a professional decorator (or home-based child care provider). Surely this will lead to some "I CAN DECORATE YOUR HOUSE, TONY!" signs.

So Tony Romo just signed a $67.5 mil contract. He's now making more than Tom Brady makes which should make the NFL quarterback Christmas party a little more awkward. I look forward to both the future paternity claims and future karaoke encounters. While I love giving him hell, I have to admit that Tony Romo is probably a pretty solid dude.

Please just stay the fuck out of LA, Tony. They don't even have a football team. Losers.

PS - Mavs just picked up Juwan Howard. How many Howards do we need?

This ball is slicker than a greased eel pie!

The first NFL game played outside North America was pretty funny. Not the game, mind you. The game was boring. Here's what we did learn about London NFL crowds:

1. They like wearing jerseys. Doesn't matter what team is playing. I want to start attending golfing events in full hockey goalie uniform.

2. They LOVE IT when people kick the ball. Doesn't matter if it's a field goal attempt or a punt. Which is endearing since punts tend to be one of the least thrilling parts of a football game for us North Americans. I want to start cheering fanatically during things like coin tosses and coaches challenges.

3. They still think streakers are funny. The irony is that, of all people, a guy with a name like Dick Stockton DOES NOT FIND STREAKERS AMUSING. Thank heavens for Goose and his thrilling Jersey Mike's-short order-cook-esque play-by-play on the streaker. A transcript would probably read something like this:

"Ohmigod, he's going on ta da field guys! Dis guy iz krazy man! He's going out dere man. Ha ha ha ha. He didn't come wit me guys."

He may have then hit a jukebox with his fist and given the thumbs up but we'll never know as the camera quickly cut back to Moose and Dick "Mayor of Squaresville" Stockton.

4. It's very rainy in England. Which makes catching a football nearly impossible. Which makes for a very amateurish game. I guess it was a clumsy tribute to rugby. Or a testament that North American football should never be played in England.

5. The English crowd DOES NOT APPRECIATE a team taking a knee to run the clock down. I find this amazing for a country that loves soccer so much. I have watched a Premier League championship game that lasted nearly four hours and was finally decided by a shoot out after nearly three solid hours without either team scoring a single point. But yeah, don't you dare think about running down the final minute of the quarter when one team is up by two possessions and the playing field looks like hellish war-torn sod pit.

6. The Super Bowl will not ever be played in London.



As for why Tony Romo spent the bye in Los Angeles eating cheeseburgers and knocking back Hypnotiq (presumably) with Britney Spears, I have no answers. I can only presume they did things like clip each other's toenails then had a belching contest. I hardly expected him to be having pho with Camille Paglia and discussing China's carbon output. But for fuck's sake, if you're going to spend your week off in a city that is the municipal equivalent of a titty bar in a strip mall near the airport please try your hardest to not end up getting a proverbial lap dance from the only stripper with both bullet and c-section scars.

Eagles 24, Cowboys 16
(that's including the safety that will occur when Romo gets distracted by a blonde shooting Popeye's coupons from a t-shirt cannon on the sidelines)

DEAR MARK "TWINKLE TOES" CUBAN,

My, you're looking thin and fit these days. How's all that dancing stuff going? Seems like you are having fun. I almost forgot you owned the Mavs for a second there. I mean with the regular season starting in a few weeks and you being the self-proclaimed hands-on owner guy, I would think that this is a pivotal moment for your beloved Mavericks. But whatever. When you've just gotta dance....

So I guess to make up for lost time (or press/sensational sports headlines/attention) you are now jumping into the Kobe trade talks. Now we all know that most of this talk is just something to keep our basketball minds occupied. You say that you are willing to give "anything but Dirk" in return for Kobe. Really? Really? I hope that was said for shocks and giggles.

Some people would say that a Dirk for Kobe trade is a good idea. I am not one of those people. However, I have a way bigger problem with the idea of losing any combination of Josh Howard, Devin Harris, Jason Terry or Devean George (though it would be kind of funny to see Devean George back in LA). I think one of the big hangups that the Mavs have faced in playoff/Finals scenarios in the past few years was Dirk, while maybe not technically choking, not playing with his regular season dependability. So you would keep Diet Choke and get rid of the solid workmen of the Mavs?

Again, this is all in the realm of pretend. But if that is truly how loyal you feel to Dirk at the expense of multiple talented Mavs, might I suggest you have Dirk frozen in carbonite and entombed just above the jumbotron at AAC? Then maybe ditch "Emminence Front" and props that spit out sparks in the player introductions before the game in favor of a Wagnerian aria and force all other Mavs to kneel before him. It's just an idea that I happen to believe is no more or less ridiculous than an NBA team owner doing the samba and pandering for the votes of America's overfed housewives in a battle to the death against Marie Fucking Osmond.

Yours truly,

Cuddle Pants

ENOUGH WITH ANY PLAY ON WORDS INVOLVING THE WORD "FOLK", FOLKS!

[I am praying to the Angel of Death pictured above to gently take me away from this Hot Pocket-filled purgatory I am currently blogging from]


Let me start with a question. I'm not too familiar with the range of stuffed nuclear fallout pastries known as Hot Pockets. But boy the guy in the office across from mine is. He's a connoisseur. Now usually there's a generic "meat/cheese/sauce" smell wafting out of his office around lunch time. Once he breaks the protective crust open, it makes its' way into my office and lingers for about an hour. But today he has brought in some new flavor. Is there actually a "rancid garlic, old Whataburger wrappers and the urine of an army fed solely on a diet of asparagus for four score and twenty" flavored Hot Pocket? The answer is, in this small and not-so-well-ventilated office, YES.

So anyways, Cowboys won. Blah blah. Not really much to say. Kind of a yawn fest. No fluke-ish series of events that unfolded into the oddest football game I have ever seen. Snooze.

So Tony Romo is not infallible. One of the more depressing sights was seeing Romo sitting on an ice chest like a kid waiting to spend the weekend with his deadbeat father who is far too drunk to remember it's his weekend with the kid.

Terrell Owens - Please buy new gloves. Those ones aren't working. They appear to make you unable to catch footballs that fall into the cradle of your expensive arms. It's cool. Tires lose tread and gloves could probably get slick after a while. Please buy some new gloves.

Jason Witten - Good job. I guess.

Marion Barber/Julius Jones - Don't run TOWARDS the pile or line of guys that want to tackle you. They are actually paid to make sure you DON'T gain yards. Now that we've gotten that straight, I assume we won't have any more pesky "tackled at the line of scrimmage" faux pas anymore.

Nick Folk - I will buy you a soda. You did a good job.

Dick Jauron - I hope your decision to call that time out while Folk kicked his first (ultimately sucessful) attempt at a 53-yard field goal will lead to an unquenchable burning in your mouth like the heat of a million overcooked Hot Pockets. Yeah it's legal (for now) but not classy.

Sunday is going to be fun. Mostly because I am hoping to have regained the speech ability I lost when I screamed at the top of my lungs for the last minute of the game last night. But as far as my sense of smell, I'm afraid that's going to be a day-by-day de-Hot Pocketization process.

I'm So Pumped About Seeing Encino Man

1992 and 1993 were great years for me personally. I had a spiral perm. I was a cheerleader. I took dance and gymnastics classes. I listened to Metallica and Guns n Roses. A lot. But most important of all was the two magical Cowboys seasons.

Now I'm 26 and I don't have a spiral perm. I don't go to the orthodontist anymore. I do still listen to Metallica and Guns n Roses. But with the Cowboys going into tonight's game at 4-0, I am feeling all kinds of nostalgic. They're even playing the Buffalo Bills, a team which innocently represented Cowboys Super Bowl blowouts long before Buffalo '66 made me think of strip
clubs and shifter cars in relation to the Bills.

While they may not all play the same position as their early 90's equivalents, let's A/B it here:


[pictured reacting to the news that Bret Favre never claimed that watching Aikman was like watching a young version of himself]

Troy Aikman then: Best Cowboys quarterback since Staubach. Weird shaped head.

Troy Aikman now: sports commentator, owns his own Ford dealership, sells bricks alongside a chimp/Pat Summerall




[pictured hanging out with Metal Skool, Criss Angel's baby brother Guido and Hal Sparks]

Tony Romo now: Earning comparisons to Staubach and Aikman, NFL Boy Wonder, much better sense of humor than Aikman

Tony Romo's future: Saab dealership, late night variety show featuring plate spinning, Hall of Fame


[pictured in what appears to be a frame from my grandmother's house]

Daryl Johnston then: Moose, future husband, literate

Daryl Johnston now: carpet cleaning pitchman, color commentator, not current husband


[pictured signing a "Baby's First Commemorative Helmet"]

Jason Witten now: steady and dependable tight end, probably not big on freestyle poetry slams (unconfirmed), good bet for 3rd and long

Jason Witten's future: bolt cutter spokesperson, color commentator, world renowned alpaca expert


[pictured during his brief but passionate affair with Cloris Leachman]

Michael Irvin then: legendary but infamous Cowboys wide receiver, dance machine, never one to pass up a fancy hat

Michael Irvin now: Hall of Fame inductee, paraphernalia confiscator, family lineage researcher


[pictured actually wearing a lampshade on his head like a true par-tay animal]

Terrell Owens now: NOT the most hated man in professional sports (thanks Barry Bonds! - T.O.), interpretive dancer, wide receiver finally living up to his salary and expectations

Terrell Owen's future: fame, riches, probably some sort of controversy


[pictured as featured in Sassy Magazine's "Grunge Hottie of the Month" article alongside fictional twin brother Jordan Catalano]

This one should be prefaced with the disclaimer that I became a vague friend of Mark Stepnoski's when he shopped at the record store I worked at when I was 19. He would buy anything rad that I recommended. He's a completely solid dude and bought me a shot of Jack Daniels on one particularly brutal Christmas Eve that I had to work.

Mark Stepnoski then: token stoner offensive lineman, Black Crowes fan, big but quick dude

Mark Stepnoski now: marijuana legalization advocate, Black Crowes fan, not as big a dude anymore


[pictured doing his impression of a touchdown as scored by the character Joe from Family Guy]

Patrick Crayton now: capable replacement for Terry Glenn, first NFL player to be raised by flamingos, klezmer collector

Patrick Crayon's future: Kia dealership owner, conversion to Judaism, DeSoto town key holder


[pictured on lame dance competition show that only fat women watch]

Emmitt Smith then: one of the greatest running backs of all time, proponent of "gaining yards" and "earning 1st downs" strategy, Babyface fan

Emmitt Smith now: married to Martin Lawrence's ex-wife, dancing dude, Hall of Fame inductee


[pictured doing a lovingly realistic imitation of Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson]


[pictured trying his hand at amateur air traffic control]

Marion Barber and Julius Jones now: effective running back tag team, Marion Barber has hair that makes me hungry for sour gummi worms, both capable of hopping over a pile of defensive linemen for touchdowns

Marion Barber and Julius Jones' future: Marion Barber's guest appearance on Dancing With The Stars season 3985858468 as Julius Jones' life partner, joint columnists for Cat Fancy magazine, retro tiki bar owners


[pictured being mind-explodingly awesome]

Jimmy Johnson then: owner of a mighty head of hair, stern but fun head coach, Barry Switzer's Cyrano de Bergerac

Jimmy Johnson now: owner of mighty head of hair, pre-game show ringleader, potential Parrothead


[pictured being everyone's idea of a fun grandpa]

Wade Phillips now: mild mannered coach, Tony Romo's favorite source of hugs, snow fox

Wade Phillips' future: Hall of Fame inductee, Jason Garrett's Cyrano de Bergerac, proud owner of largest collection of Precious Moments figurines known to man





Sadly, there can be only one of these and I have yet to find anyone who can compare to Jay Novaceck:

Doing my part.....as a fan

I am glad that I opted to watch the game in the privacy of my apartment yesterday. Because when the snap went over Tony Romo's head, I yelled a bad word. Then when he attempted to recover the ball but fumbled it, I yelled a different bad word (because I am big believer in constantly expanding ones' vocabulary, particularly when it comes to curse words). When he managed to recover the ball on the second grab, I said a third bad word but this one was said with an optimistic inflection. Then when he ran with that ball to gain a first down, I resorted to jumping up and down while making completely incoherant screaming sounds. Three or so plays later when Romo hustled to avoid getting sacked then found an open hole and ran in the ball for an easy touchdown, I actually did a small portion of a cheer I suddenly remembered from my days as a cheerleader. This is the kind of stupid behavior that I don't want to display in public.

So I know it's totally boring to rehash all the "Tony Romo is the Second Coming of Christ" stuff. It's equally boring to point out that Tony Romo's price is ascending at a rate that is almost certainly inversely proportionate to the number of Mom of the Year mugs Britney Spears has gotten lately. And everyone seems confident that Jerry Jones will make a 30+ million dollar offer soon. But I am getting nervous. That's why I am using my seldom-read blog to offer Tony Romo $100 if he promises me personally that he will return to play for the Cowboys after this season. I got paid today so I'm feeling philanthropic. I am even willing to make the check out to CASH if he so desires.

And just because all of this Cowboys-Not-Sucking Fever has really improved my Monday morning mood, I will throw in an extra bonus offer. I'm willing to offer Jason Garrett $25 if he will also stay on with the Tony Romo-led Cowboys beyond this season. That's 50 tacos from Jack in the Box! Or 5 DVD rentals from Blockbuster! I hear Knocked Up is great! Just think about it.