And here I am in my dungeon drowning my sorrows in Oreos and milk... Nah, I'm numb to the pain of the Mets. I've been numb since last week. But that's OK, I have a whole new plethora of acupunture needles in me from the Jets. And I have to live on it for seven days until the Fins game.
I'm trying to get back into the Giants. I don't know what it is. It's getting hard to do it. Maybe it's the San Francisco playoff embarrassment from a few years ago, maybe it's Tom Coughlin doesn't do much for me, maybe it's that I've actually seen them win a Super Bowl in my lifetime. They used to be my guys with Simms, LT, Rodney Hampton, Bavaro, that little Meggett! I remember Phil McConkey's restaurant near the Houlihan's and movie theater in Secaucus, NJ. Maybe if I could get myself back into the Giants more than the Jets, I could be a little happier.
I'm actually looking forward to normalcy aka Ranger losses.
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