You are Found Guilty of Gaslighting and Sentenced to Embarassment

I penned this post back in January on my phone in Penn Station after a conversation with a boy made me absolutely furious.

At the time, I didn’t have the balls to press post. Now I figure why the fuck not. So here ya’ll go.  

 

Let me pull a Taylor Swift blog style for a moment.

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Ever since the conception of Twenty Something What is my life and the first post I ever penned about “I’m Sorry” gifts, I’ve been on and off reeling from a rather interesting encounter with a supposed textbook Southern charmer from North Carolina. He is the mainly guilty party in my Hall of Lame I’m sorry gifts post.

Let me give you a quick profile. Thirty years old, small southern accent, works in the food industry and I met him in a bar that he managed. Super polite to everyone, but you’d never peg him as a huge ladies man. Initially perceived as a very sweet and nice guy that was raised to be a gentleman.

On top of being a liar, he is also guilty of gaslighting. For those unfamiliar with the term, it refers to an asshole who does something warranting a rather negative reaction. If said reaction makes them unhappy, they feebly attempt to make you feel bad about it. Gaslighting aims to make victims doubt their own perceptions and feel guilt.

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For those that need a more substantial example let’s say Mr. Charmer practically BEGS you to be exclusive with him, and as soon as you decide to not use your charm, sass, and boobs to get drinks and flings with other guys, his list of highly questionable actions start piling up. The sequence of events is as follows.

1. Charmer decides to bring me and my girlfriend to a friend’s house after meeting up with several people at a bar. Call it an after-party of sorts where I am meeting his friends for the first time. More people come to the house, including his friend of the female variety who I had met a few weeks previous. I met her, she met me, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries before he privately explained to me that they had never hooked up… ever. She comes in and I smile, and I am met with a look of drunken disdain. Girl was throwing shade like Regina George.

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Oh well, hello to you to. Well I brush it off since I’m in a 4loko haze and there’s the sweetest dog at the party that I’d rather hang out with anyways. My next question is why Charmer and this bitch are in the bathroom for an hour? I guess Charmer didn’t let his friends in on his manipulations, because it’s one of them who told me the truth about the two having previously dated.

Charmer spends the next 30 mins wondering why I’m not going anywhere near him and why I’m leaving the party. He insists they were “just talking” and for the next few weeks, continues to tell me nothing happened.

2. Then comes the actual sleeping with this girl, while we’re supposedly exclusive. I find out from her, not him. In fact he goes a few weeks without telling me. She also confirms my suspicions on the bathroom incident and when I bring it up, Charmer claims he really did not think anything happened, and that he didn’t find out the truth until a few days later. Apparently, he was really just THAT drunk.

3. He begs to be let back into my life. He actually wants to be my BOYFRIEND. He decides it’s worth cutting all ties with her even when I refuse to stop seeing other guys.

4. For a few months, he’s attempting to win me back, and in some cases it’s working. I refuse to be completely exclusive, but I rarely have time to spend with anyone else. I don’t think I can handle him talking to her again and he tells me he won’t. He tells me I’m the first girl he loves and that I’m the one. I take it with a grain of salt, even if I secretly wish he was being honest. I make it clear that any evidence that he’s speaking to her and I walk out the door.

5. I find out that he’s been texting her behind my back. BIG SURPRISE. I give him up.

6. He starts sending me I’m sorry gifts when I move to Boston.

7. I blog about it.

 

It wasn’t until yesterday that he discovered my blog post. The reaction to me calling his gifts pathetic and selfish set the following conversation into motion:

Charmer: I’m not sending you anything in the mail. I’m not trying to make you a true piece of artwork that I try really hard on and have it mocked on your blog. Maybe later when you think I’m no longer sending you “I’m Sorry” presents. Those were things to just make you smile and start your day off with a hit. I said I’m sorry, I don’t need to give you gifts for that.

Me: I dislike getting your gifts because every nice thing you do for me is in some way for you to feel less bad about what you did. Did you ever try to make me smile when it wasn’t after you did something horrible to me? No. The first nice thing you did for me was after the bathroom incident. The second? After you slept with her. Sending me the flowers? After you texted her. While we were together? Nothing.

Charmer: I’m trying to show you that I care.

Me: So you didn’t care for me when everything was fine and I wasn’t halfway walking out on you? You should’ve showed me you cared by NOT lying to me. I guess buying me flowers is a lot easier.

The conversation becomes circular. He keeps claiming he loves me and cares for me, while I start getting furious. I just want him to stop the word vomit! I hate word vomit… especially when it’s of the bullshit variety.

Charmer: I didn’t realize the damage I was causing when I did those things.

Me: Are you stupid?

And the gaslighting begins.

Charmer: Conversation is over if you’re going to start calling me stupid. I wish you could believe me when I tell you that I loved and cared for you but I know everything I did counters that.

Me: You lied to me? That’s stupid. You’re stupid because you did the one thing I said would result in me leaving and then bellyache about losing me. A stupid person counter acts what they want.

Charmer: Have a good night.

BUT ladies and gentlemen, it doesn’t end there. The gaslighting continues.

Charmer: I ask you not to call me stupid in this conversation and you do the opposite. I’ll talk to you all night and day about what happened to us but I’m not going to be talked down in this manner.

Me: If you don’t want to be a liar, don’t lie. If you don’t want to be a cheater, don’t cheat. If you don’t want to be called stupid…. you can get the idea. And I wonder how it feels when someone that supposedly cares for you does the exact opposite of what you ask…. hmm…

 

GASLIGHTING: Blaming me for calling you stupid… when stupid is as stupid does.

 

 

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LDF: Long Distance Flirting is STUPID

I’m going to give myself this. When it comes to relationships I’ve hiked through a lot of bullshit and back, almost to the point that I have sworn off anything serious for quite some time.

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But I still trek through, knee deep in horse shit, and experienced a semi-pseudo since sophomore year of college HUNGER GAMES of a relationship, cheating, and guys applauding me when I lost 25 pounds and had some serious self image issues. All of this, wishing blissfully for fucking NORMAL, whatever the hell that is. But I do know it doesn’t include fucking mind games, sexting your ex, or making your other significant other feel like they are a parasite sucking out your lifeblood rather than someone that you appreciate and share a nice co-dependent relationship with where parties put in the same fucking amount of effort holy FUCK I AM FURIOUS.

Anyways……..

Most of the above is for another time (sorry guys, but it’s STILL too soon for me tell the story of my experience as the MockingJay in the arena of friends with benefits, shit gets complicated, guys want what they can’t have death trap which I certainly don’t remember volunteering for).

I’m going to go share my experience with Long Distance Flirting and how it is JUST AS STUPID as volunteering oneself into the Hunger Games. It’s been over a year since I landed in Bahston and I never thought the first boy I would meet would be a Canadian that my friends endearingly called Canada Boy.

My first weekend, my roommate and I head out to a bar that would eventually become my stomping ground for the next year because they serve these wicked huge beers in 32oz mugs for $cheap. We are standing, next to a group of four guys and casually we succeed in striking up conversation about how they are all from Ottawa, and have traveled to NYC, Philly, and Boston in a USA tour of some sorts. Fast forward and Canada Boy and I are separated from the group to talk about sports and this kid is making me smile like you wouldn’t believe.

2xfast foward and he spends the night, while my roommate semi-kinda hooks up with his buddy. We talk about experiences and he explains that he had this ex that cheated on him, and a month before meeting me he was considering giving her another chance, when he sees her at the club making out with another guy. I share stories, and we both explain that we’re finished with cheaters.

3xfast foward and after he asks, we’re hanging out on what happens to be the last night he and his friends are spending in the States. How sweet. A follow up date after meeting at a bar? Mind blown.

Then what commences is 7 months of talking EVERYDAY with texts peppered with “you’re not like girls in Canada. You’re amazing and I’ve never met a girl like you. Move here and I’d be the happiest guy on the planet.” And of course his favorite line, “I miss your smile. I can’t wait to see it again.” Well I guess that last line was true because in that time span, he drove 8 hours to see me three times. We would spend our days walking the city, shopping, going to restaurants at the seaport, enjoying the Brazilian steakhouse in Copley, walking by the waterfront, going to Pourhouse to stand where we first met, and enjoying a Patriot or Bruins game. Before he would leave, he always left a sweet note on my desktop, talking about how much fun he had and how he couldn’t wait to see me again. He’d also surprise me with a Thank You gift: an Alex and Ani bracelet that he saw me eyeing, earrings that he noticed I didn’t have, cannolis from the North End, or chocolates and flowers.

So of COURSE I’m left thinking “holy crap, this guy doesn’t even see me and he appreciates me more than anyone I’ve ever met.” I was also left wondering how his She-Devil ex could have treated him the way she did. After 7 months I thought to send him a joint Christmas/early bday present because he needed to feel appreciated too.

Anddd then about a week and a half after sending that, there is a picture of him and her celebrating his bday together in early January.

BOOM! Yup that was the car of inevitable disappointment HITTING ME for ever engaging in LDF.

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So I do what I typically do in scenarios like this. I distance emotionally. I may still talk to the guy, but no more telling him I miss him. No more answering his texts when I should be focusing on meeting someone that lives in the same god damn country for Christ’s sake. And let’s get this straight. Distancing myself emotionally isn’t an IRRATIONAL thing. It’s fucking necessary, and if you’re going to look at me and say I over reacted then tell me what’s more irrational. Still pretending there were feelings there or moving on? Yeah so all of you on the girls always act irrational train… GO FACK YAHHSELVES.

My new found indifference is met with “why don’t you talk to me as much anymore? I always smile when I see your texts you but never text me first anymore. I have time off next week, what if I came to visit. I miss your smile. We just ran into each other, if you want me to delete her off of Facebook I will.”

No… I don’t want you to do anything. I’m annoyed because I’m putting emotional coin into this and she’s the fucking one that gets to take you out on your bday. Naturally LDF IS FUCKING POINTLESS.

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You may be thinking, “But, LDF is fine as long as there is a mutual understanding that both parties can do whatever they want after they separate. They should just enjoy the time that they have together when they visit each other, and then understand that only disappointment can come from actually caring for them since they will never be a couple.”

Well, I kind of have a secret to let you in on. I didn’t think it was necessary to expose on my blog to people like you because I thought it was obvious. But as time has gone on, I now feel the need to let everyone know in my public forum something about myself.

I.am.human.

YASSSSSS I am a human. I smile when I’m happy, and get giggly when I’m drunk, and cry when I’m sad, and dissapointed when my dreams fall apart, and determined when I go to the gym, and stressed when something feels beyond my reach.

So naturally, I smile when I meet a cute guy, and smile even more when said guy starts showing interesting, and I’m happy after our first kiss, and can’t stop laughing when I find him so perfectly funny. I get scared when I realize my feelings are stronger, and disappointed when I realize my effort isn’t being recognized, and feel quite sad when I get rejected that maybe I MAY even fucking shed a tear or two or three or fucking hell, a god damn river.

But the story doesn’t end yet. Canada boy decided to take a week off and come to the States to visit me, and I say sure. He arrives on a Friday and plans to leave the next Saturday morning, his longest visit yet. Well we got to Wednesday night when he receives a text from She-Devil while out of my room and his phone is sitting on my nightstand.

Homeboy doesn’t try to explain shit. I calmly ask, “are you going to look at that?” and he replies “I don’t want to, I know you’re disappointed.”

Yup. Yup. Sounds about right.

Canada boy doesn’t explain himself, and to be honest, he doesn’t need to. Because let’s face it: it’s LDF. Even I can admit I cannot be angry about this and hold it against him.

What I can do is tell him to pack his shit and leave in the morning, and just leave me alone for a bit because I am swearing off LDF. So I did.

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And then I blogged about it.

 

A Suggestion to the NBA: How to Punish Donald Sterling

As if Doc Rivers and the LA Clippers didn’t have enough to worry about besides trying to win an NBA Championship.

And hello to all who have either been anxiously awaiting my next post, my loyal friend followers of about 20 individuals, and perhaps some new readers from my Twittersphere (whooo 83 followers!). I’ve been looking for a reason to resurrect TwentySomethingWIML, and while so much has happened (2014 Winter Olympics, Korean Ferry sinking, the ongoing 2014 Crimean crisis, etc.) I could not ignore the fact that an old, ugly, and decrepit man (who can still manage to have both a wife AND girlfriend) was a top trending topic all week. It helped that I finally found out how to use Twitter, but that’s another story that I could probably blog about later.

PROFILE: Meet Donald Sterling b.1934

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Occupation: Owner of the Los Angeles Clippers in the NBA

Imagine seeing this lovely, leathery face on your Tinder prospects. Well his profile might say something along the lines of “I won’t broadcast that I associate with black people, even when African Americans athletes are working their asses off to earn my team and their city a national title. I won’t even broadcast it even though my girlfriend is half African American. Even when Doc Rivers, one of the most recognized and respected coaches in the league works for my franchise.”

My Thoughts: I’m moved to both anger and sadness. Anger for the obvious reasons; I strongly disapprove of bigotry and racism on any level, and sadness for the Clippers who publicly showed at Game 4 Sunday against the Golden State Warriors that they denounce Sterling’s ugly comments. LA, a team of talented players from a variety of backgrounds, is now faced with suspended sponsorships, terminated sponsorships, and a major distraction during the most important time of the season.

With an NBA investigation in place, we can only hope that the NBA and commissioner Adam Silver can find a way to get rid of this racist and ugly bigot.

But, I decided to compile a list of punishments that I would recommend:

1. Cover the floor of Staples Center with the sharpest of Lego pieces. Make him do suicides barefoot.

2. Give him perpetual papercuts in the wrinkly, old webbings between his fingers.

3. Make him take a selfie with every African American NBA player.

4. Force him to only take the coldest of showers for the rest of his life.

5. Make him walk on cobblestone in heels for hours.

6. Hit him in the funny bone, over and over again.

7. Lock him in with the Hippos at the Los Angeles Zoo. I mean he is starting to look like one.

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8. While at the Zoo, he can become the Zoo pooper scooper. Make him sleep in it.

9. Twilight movies on repeat.

10. Baseball pitches to the groin, thrown by African American baseball pitchers.

11.  Forced licking of all flag poles in below freezing climates.

12. Continuously blow dust and sand into his eyes over and over again.

13. Forced self-inflicted toe stubbing.

14. Force him to stare into the sun for hours at a time.

15. Make him sit on hot leather car seats without pants. After an hour make him stand up and experience the awful pain of the seat peeling from your bare legs. Repeat.

 

Feel Free to comment and add to this list. Maybe Adam Silver will get some ideas!

 

 

 

Realizing that a bad hangover has NOTHING on food poisoning

WARNING: the following content may be extremely graphic, especially if you’re one of those guys that don’t believe that humans of the female variety poop. I mean they just don’t. We are perfectly beautiful, gorgeous, and ethereal creatures that don’t even emit stinky vapors let alone excrement. Keep thinking that and stop reading.

For the women, the realists, and the biologists who insist that all living organisms need to emit their waste in order to survive, you can continue to read this post because this weekend I experienced the WORST curse on my digestive system that I have EVER experienced in my twentysomething years.

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Those familiar with the college life are probably also familiar with the bad hangover. Feeling dehydrated, nauseous, and weak may have been an every Sunday occurrence after a weekend of cheap Barton shots and boxed Franzia. I’ve had my share and boy do I know what a bad hangover feels like. Forgetting to eat dinner and stay hydrated with water on the weekends before downing a few whiskey gingers have become habitual. So has waking up the next morning, refusing to get out of bed, and claiming that “I am NEVER going to drink AGAIN”. I usually feel and look like I’ve been hit by a bus.

However, this weekend, I probably looked like that same bus reversed back over me and hit me again. After a now regretful egg salad sandwich, I experienced food poisoning over which I would take a bad hangover any day of the week. Literally, my bowels are turning just talking about it, but I need to get this in writing so that when I experience my next bad and inevitable hangover, I can read this and thank my lucky stomach that I don’t have food poisoning.

Sweet Jesus it was absolutely God awful.

After eating the egg salad at about 3:30pm on Satuday, I was struck with calm, maybe feeling a bit bloated, but nothing out of the ordinary. Twelve hours later, I was puking on a sidewalk, but I chalked it up to the bumpy Boston cab rides that trigger my motion sickness. Confident that I had absolutely NOTHING in my system, I went to bed just feeling nauseous.

I wake up at 8am with an intense pain that felt like I was being impaled with a red hot poker. My eyes are literally watering from the pain and I run to the bathroom to puke. Realizing I don’t need to puke and probably have a case of the DADS (Day After Drinking Shits) I decide to poop. Talk about opening Pandora’s box. And I thought I had nothing in me.

I try going back to bed, but trips to the bathroom kept me awake until around 11am when I decide to give up. I get dressed, brush my teeth and as soon as the toothpaste hits my tongue I vomit again.

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“Must be a hangover” I tell myself, until I’m sitting in the living room waiting to go into work and remembering that my roommate who also ate the egg salad was complaining about a stomach ache. Well I guess I better call in today, because if it’s food poisoning my hour commute might end exorcist style. I have experienced the after morning sickness of a hangover, however, the best part about puking from alcohol is feeling the weight of nausea being lifted after you pull the trigger. With food poisoning, that relief never comes and you’re subject to stomach cramp after stomach cramp that never ends no matter how much you pray and promise that you’ll be a better person if only this nasty experience would just end.

There is nothing more humiliating than having to shit and puke at the same time, and I feel SO MUCH SYMPATHY for those that have ever experienced suck an AWFUL trial.

With my roommates Goggling my symptoms and what I should be eating, it’s decided that I have food poisoning and I should go grab some Gatorade for the electrolytes that my body is so violently getting rid of. I decide to go to the convenient store right across the street for some Powerade Zero and after being gone no longer than 5 mins, I come back out of breath and practically stumbling for my composure. I’m a ridiculous mess. I take a few sips, take a Tums for my stomach acid, and immediately puke it up. Great.

By the end of the night, my throat is dry, I am starving, and my ass literally hurts.  I’ll never again complain about being hungover, ever.

An Apology to the Douchebags: “Sorry MY Hair Shrunk YOUR Boner”

It’s been awhile, and gosh, I don’t know who even reads my blog anyways; but one topic has come to mind that I think can draw attention to a much larger issue at hand: the body image of women, and why some men think their opinion is more important when it comes to OUR bodies.

First, I’d like to reiterate this specific mental shortfall affects only SOME men, specifically the close-minded asshole who wrote about why women should not cut their hair short. In the article, he draws attention to a few women, particularly celebs like Beyonce, Emma Watson, and Jennifer Lawrence, who have cut their hair to obtain a style that THEY want. He then goes on to list why women shouldn’t cut the locks that make this asshole want to screw them: celebs can’t even pull it off, you’ll stand out but not in a good way, and short hair will just amplify your flaws.

I’d like to start off by stating that I am not a radical feminist looking to overthrow the patriarchal gender relations of society. My argument in it’s simplest form is this: any change a woman does to her appearance IS NOT ABOUT YOU OR WHAT YOU WANT. Got it?

Now to proceed.

“If you have any female interaction on social media, whatsoever, you may also have seen Jennifer Lawrence’s new ‘do. Though every chick on the planet begs “Can we just be best friends? Why is she perfect?”, you’d only bang her if she lost ten pounds. Now, shedding some lbs. might not even do it. Should have cut her dessert instead.”

Asshole begins his bash of J-Law by feebly attempting to convince his readers that put simply: no one would ever bang Jennifer Lawrence. Maybe he has a point. Most people in the world wouldn’t want to bang Jennifer Lawrence because they actually want to do things like get to know her, spend time with her, tell her she has a beautiful smile, make sweet love to her and then marry her. Why?? Because people are attracted a girl that has confidence, is courageous, shows compassion for others, has a sense of humor, and doesn’t over-sexualize herself. So sorry J-Law, you’re the girl people want to marry, not just bang. I’m sure that’s killing her on the inside.

“Girls, I’m here to save you from yourself. If you’re a woman in your prime, short hair is an overwhelmingly bad idea.”

He should have added, “because it would shrink my already tiny ass boner and if no name asshole blogger doesn’t like your hair that’s all that matters right?” WRONG. Is he really attempting to tell a girl that may want to get a pixie cut on HER OWN HEAD that she needs to be SAVED from HERSELF?? I’m sorry, but there is a variety of reasons girls would want to cut their hair short and it has NOTHING to do with guys almost ALL of the time. I asked one of my closest, bad-ass and confident girlfriends Alyssa why she cut her hair short and it came down to feeling in control and confident because you can’t hide behind hair. It’s sexy in a different and nontraditional way and it makes her life easier. Did she mention pleasing any of the hundreds of boys that find her sexy and attractive? Nope.

His Response? ““But we don’t cut our hair for men, we cut it for ourselves!” the tired chorus cries out. This isn’t just about impressing guys, though. All of those odd insecurities you have about your looks are only highlighted with short hair. Other girls will notice them immediately as well. If you have bad teeth or some other sort of imperfection, with short hair, you’re putting it front and center. Even if you don’t have a glaring flaw, there’s one thing of which I’m sure: your face is going to look fat.”

So, according to him, short hair only shows off flaws and not things like bright eyes, sexy lips, high cheekbones, slender collarbones, smooth shoulders, crisp jawlines, and dazzling smiles right? I guess that makes sense, I only want to get compliments about my tits and ass anyways, because those are the ones that truly make me feel beautiful.

“There are certain things about girls that a guy only notices if they are spectacular or spectacularly awful…The same logic applies to hair, where outside of blonde, brunette, and easy, the male population will give a collective shrug in regard to her having curled it, straightened it, pulled it up, or having done whatever else she spends an hour and a half doing before she goes out. We only notice the length when it happens to rival our own.”

Ladies, why even try to live up to this idiot’s standards if he is too dumb to notice any of your wonderful qualities that an actual man of character will??

Overall this article shed a lot of light on how some simple minded guys view women, our decisions, and our looks. I’m sure all the women below are DEVASTATED by your article and their choices. They really only wanted to make you happy.

Ginnifer Goodwin

Ginnifer Goodwin

Keira

Keira Knightley

Halle Berry

Halle Berry

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J-Law

THE GIANTS SUCK: a Guest Post by an Irate Fan

Last night, the NY Giants took on the Minnesota Vikings with younger Manning verses….. Josh Freeman??? Giants fans like me were cheering for the team to go 1-6. What is our lives??

Unfortunately for me, I work unconventional hours that poop all over my chances of making it home on time to enjoy a nice night of Monday Night Football. Thankfully, I have a truly wonderful, beautiful, and twenty something friend who was able to guest post this wonderful commentary during the game. We both love the Giants, we are both upset at the Giants, and we both are going to try out for all the defensive and offensive line positions possible as well as attempt to fire defensive coordinator Perry Fewell. She is also single, for those guys that like girls who have a more in depth understanding about sports than cheering for home runs in football.

So here it is, Danielle’s debut on Twenty Something What is My Life?: an epic rant on the NY Giants.

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So I get paid to watch football. I work at CBS Sports, and I genuinely love my job….it is novel, watching the Giants lose and getting a check every week. I used to get paid per INT, but once Eli hit 10, CBS had to cur back and just put me on a salary.

Take this into consideration: The Vikings have sputtered along with Christian Ponder, who has a SLIGHT edge over Blaine Gabbert- a man I have to commend for even pursuing a career in sports. Josh Freeman has 87 yards with 8 minutes left in the game, and the Giants are ahead ten points. This win goes to show that the Giants cannot even begin to play with the big boys….what we SHOULD do is continue sputtering along at a 2-win pace and grab a top-ten pick.

TRADE. DOWN. MOTHER. FUCKERS.

You wasted a pick on Pugh who, surprise surprise, has not done a thing for you except miss blocks with his teeny, tiny hands. Nassib, also a waste case. There’s no way he can be worse than Eli right now- one touchdown against a lame Minnesota D? Ok bro. But Nassib also won’t offer much of an upside.  I will say it before, and I’ll say it again: AJ MCCARRON WOULD HAVE BEEN THE BEST PICK THEY EVER COULD HAVE MADE. McCarron won’t be a superstar, he’s a SEC QB with the best of the best to work with….he’ll slip to the second round. He will sit behind Eli for a bit, then show off his soon-to-be-3-time-BCS-champ-self.

And He. Would. Be. Marvelous.

Instead, we’re stuck with the big-headed doofus Nassib (seriously, have you seen the size of his head?) and we’re on our FOURTH running back so far….if that’s even right. A friend texted me tonight to say that she went to high school with the Cox character the Giants picked up off the street for tonight’s game. She is a WASP from Rhode Island. I’m SO proud of you, Coughlin and co. SO PROUD. Cleveland thinks THEY have issues? They are 3-3 with BRANDON WEEDEN at QB. ‘Nuff said.

The Vikings have the 31st-ranked defense in the league. Randle has one TD against them, and Brandon Jacobs managed not to fumble in the open field for another. Way to go, boys. Steve Weatherford is the MVP every week- punts so hard Vikings fumble it near the end zone.

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To recap: Peyton Hillis ran for -2 yards to end the third quarter. Against, might I remind you, the 31st-ranked defense in the NFL. They are behind the Jaguars. Does that help you put things in perspective?

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They are so bad, I’ll likely watch scores on my laptop while I catch up on Orange is the New Black for this last quarter.

UPDATE: I made it through an episode and a half of OITNB. It’s fantastic. (Unlike the Giants.)