Enough is Enough

To know what it’s like to love somebody the way I love you
To know how it feels to kill yourself with bad habits
To know what you want, know you’ll never truly have it
New York City, please go easy on me tonight

The Chainsmokers

Dear hearts, I’m about to lose it and a chipped nail or broken heel is not to blame. image

Ironic I had to be in NYC to watch the fifth Jets loss. I was so excited to watch at a little local Jets spot in the upper east side, and by the end of the first quarter, I felt it was best for my bank account and health to walk away.

As I’m jetting back to LA, sitting here in my seat seething, thoughts of a bad relationship pass through my mind.

When is this going to end? Why should I stay devoted? Is it time to walk away?

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I’m tired of semi-teasing JETS stands for Just End The Season.

I’m tired of the blue shadow the Giants cast over the city. You know you’re a Jets fan when you walk by Steve Tisch, laid out on his Manhattan Beach deck, and you just walk away. 

I’m tired of second best. I want the best. We deserve better, not clinging to a team that Jason Taylor once nicely called the garbage collection team of the NFL. 

Right now darlings, we know that’s true.

When can we look forward to a coach who is capable? When can we look forward again to a team as glorious as the 2010 one-game-away-from-the-SB, instead of what we now have to watch?

I dear heart cannot blame you if you do not watch any more. Time is precious, why waste it on a team so incapable, lying in the middle of the field would be more effective, than what the defense didn’t do to stop David Johnson last night.

Let’s be honest, that would be a incredible circus defense play, no questions asked.

See, I can still tease when I’m down.

I’ve defended Coach Bowles. I thought he was The Guy. The front office made pre-season moves intended to put this team ahead, acquiring Brandon Marshall and Matt Forte, but we recognize those names, since were previously sexy. They’re no longer stunners, even with how Marshall has played. Now, he’s the entire receiver’s corps, since Decker is about to have hip & shoulder replacement surgery. Let that sink in for a moment… 

I must take a stand and state, Geno Smith is NOT the answer. Wearing his perma-scowl and i’m-better-than-everybody panache, that’s not a face of the future. Petty or Hackenberg, get those gents reps. Coach Bowles, you’re already at the end of the line, just do it. You have nothing to lose at this point. If being let go is highly likely, make mistakes and make them big. Put your -ahem- on the table and make it happen.

I’m not someone who gives in or up easily. But dear Jets, you are pushing me to the limit of embracing outer darkness, otherwise known as the Raiders. That Carr has an arm, and they are great to watch this season. Plus I don’t have to travel so far to visit.

Even in these depths of despair, my dream continues to flicker, of proudly dawning my fur coat while sitting in my seats, six rows above the field at Metlife. A girl can dream… 

Cheers,

X|O  FFF

Leaders of the PAC?

One thing that will make this honey rise n shine faster than 2 for 1 Loubi sale… PAC 12 MEDIA DAYS – oh the ecstasy. 

I’ve been attempting to preoccupy my brain while July, otherwise known as the month of my birth, and the worst non-football month of the year, passes us by … Bye!

I’ve been meticulously pouring over the annual Phil Steele of knowledge like it’s the GMAT, GRE, LSAT, and MCAT all bundled into one. And my little life depends on knowing who plays MLB for Tennessee.

So these are the days where I can hear the season predictions from the Oracles of West Coast football, like it’s the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting.

Traditionally this little pre-season activity makes me made me happier than a Macallen 30 neat.

It was all for nothing… Kind of like that last-second play, USC forgot to play against ASU last season. *Hint start at the 13:55 mark.

Like that dear hearts…

While Rich-Rod is never a bore, and I adore Coach Leech’s dating philosophies, piñatas were being hit, punched and smashed, and Sarky made a little snarky, ‘duck you’ Oregon comment, I left with more uhhhhhs than ahhhhs.

Maybe it’s all that D, I’ve been getting. Yes that vitamin D that we Angelinos basque in for 11 months out of the year. Maybe it’s gotten into my silly little head. This felt like a disappointment.

Similar to that tinder date who you thought by their pic looks like a smoke show, only in real life is a solid 5.56789999, or a 6?

Just like that dear hearts.

Bring on the makers mark, let’s not waste the fine malts. I need to put on a pot of bourbon after this.

I certainly hope this is not the PAC’s expectation for the season. Let’s step it up a notch, ok Gents?