it’s MY birthday week and I can talk about anything I want to. even brett favre and taco bell.

My birthday is this week.

It doesn’t make me special, it just happens to be a week where my age officially gets older.  Personally, I don’t need a number to remind me of that.

My hips do enough of that for me. They hurt, people. I keep reinjuring a muscle in there when I slip on all this ice, or a trip over one of our dogs, or fall over a child sized bulldozer.  And that doesn’t even mention the bones in there. They ache. From carrying a baby for 9 months? I don’t know.  It seems they are worse now. But I’ll stop whining about that and move on to some more important topics.

 

Like Brett Favre.

Lord, is that man hot. And he can play football like nobody’s business. I was sad that the game last night went down like it did – I wanted him to win that Superbowl ring and quiet all of his doubters.  Not that they shouldn’t be quiet already, he was in the playoffs and led his team to incredible victories this season.  Anyone think he’ll come back for another year? I imagine if you asked him that question about an hour after last night’s game, he’d say no. But give him a few months. He seems to regroup and mellow out when he goes back home and plays with those High School boys.  Back home where the game is pure. I understand why he keeps coming back. He LOVES the game. It’s obvious. I don’t think it’s the money. He could commentate and make good money without getting his head knocked off every 42 seconds. I truly think he is scared of who he will be without the feel of the ball in his hand, his eyes peeled on his go-to receiver, the roar of the fans, the rush of a touchdown.

I wish I needed something that badly.

I mean sure, I love making cheesecake. But if I’m going to have to deal with 300 pound men attacking me, trying to crush my knees and neck in the process? Umm, I’ll just watch folks on TV make cheesecake.

Since this post already makes very little sense, let’s just talk about Taco Bell for a minute.

I have a little beef about Taco Bell. The latest commercial. The one where the guy goes in and wants to order from the chick in the back because she gave him an “Inside Deal.” Well, I have been to Taco Bell. Number one, there are no skinny hot chicks wearing clean uniforms in a Taco Bell. Number Two, there are definitely not TWO hot chicks wearing clean uniforms in a Taco Bell. Number three, no one is going to smile at you like that.

But here’s the thing. You are lying to yourself if you have never, ever thought – man, I could go for some Taco Bell. Sure, you know what you are in for. Greasy, poorly made tacos filled with questionable meat product. And you also know that you might as well just open the wrappers, find a toilet, and flush the suckers. Cut out the middleman and save yourself the aching bowels. But, you eat it anyway. I think it’s a way to keep yourself real. That way, when you’ve had a dinner FAIL, you can always think – Hey, it isn’t as bad as the Taco Bell I had last week. And I don’t have diarrhea, so, that’s a bonus.  But then 6 months later, the memory of the horrifying bathroom experience you had after eating your MexiMelts and Chimichangas fades and you get that urge again.

Maybe that’s what happens to Brett. He forgets about the hits, the aching bones, the concussions. He feels the electricity of the fans, the field, the team. He smells the new uniform. He just has to have it.

And I, for one, hope to see him out there again. Just not after he’s eaten a Gordita Grande.