bradyquinn

Heeeeyyyyyyyy fellas, gonna check out my big coming out party this evening? It’s be there or be there with a bear. Much better than those spontaneous…things…that happened when the Barry won the White House. I’m still not ready to talk about it. A lot of pumpkin spice Blue Moons went into drowning out that sorrow.

That’s not even funny. I wasn’t for the Obama man. I was all about my homegirl Palin. Shit, Homegirl was gonna do it up right and spend half the treasury on interior design for the Naval Observatory. I could go for some navel observation myself. Ooooooooh. In-spir-RAY-tion!

I hope I don’t get tackled too rough now. It’d really scuff this argyle sweater Homegirl bought for me at Neiman Marcus. I better not have to give it back now that she lost. I already spilled seminal fluid all over it.

Who knows? Maybe if I do good we get one of those Super Bowl things people get all torqued up about.

So c’mon, Denver. It’s on like throbbing dong. You’ve already let a few offenses have their way with you, you little sluts. What’s one more reaming from Brady gonna hurt you?

I’m just so happy to be off the sideline. Everybody’s all Gloomy Guses over there, always complaining about when Romeo wastes timeouts and never in the mood for letting be Sasha Fierce. All’s I know is whatever that Super Bowl thing is, I’d be hard pressed to beat the bowl I already got.