I’m running a little late on an unseasonably warm Sunday, but that’s alright – so is Buffalo Wild Wings. At 1:05, all the televisions are still on the program guide. That’s alright. It’s not like this is a sports bar or anything.


In my building this morning, I could overhear a guy in his apartment singing “Take My Breath Away,” the song from “Top Gun” when Tom Cruise is putting it down on Kelly McGillis. It was loud and it was terrible, and I’m going to try really hard to make friends with that guy.


The Patriots and Stevan Ridley are authors of the first touchdown I see today, with left tackle Nate Solder holding his block for about 28 seconds. I didn’t catch the well-blocked Dolphin’s number, but if he’s not embarrassed, he should be.


Bears wide receiver Earl Bennett gets hit at the thighs and goes ass-over-teakettle into the endzone. I don’t know if there’s anything in sports as consistently pleasing to sports fans as a football player doing a flip or getting flipped. It’s timeless. And yet, we have no use for gymnastics.


Interesting choice by the Universal people to market “This is 40” as a nightmarishly depressing vision of your future. I love the work of Judd Apatow, and there’s no goddamn way I’m seeing this thing without a cyanide pill in my pocket.


Side note to the above: I just clicked on the “This is 40” trailer on imdb.com, and I had to watch a 15-second advertisement first – 15 seconds of advertising before 2:47 of advertising. God. Eat shit, internet).


The Dolphins are seeing a steady diet of Wes Welker and Julian Edelman from the Patriots offense. I’d love to see “Outside The Lines” investigate the following theory: Much of Welker and Edelmen’s success is due to Tom Brady’s virulent hatred of black people. I’m not saying it’s true. But I would like it to be investigated.


I’m back to my usual solo status this weekend. The Greek may join me later, but he is currently at a child’s birthday party at a bowling alley. This is 40.


Fox commentator Tim Ryan, who I like, has been absolutely gushing over the rapport between Jay Cutler and Brandon Marshall. I can’t speak to the relationship they share, but I’ll say two things: 1) Marshall is playing really well, and 2) There is often an unspoken, unnamed bond between two people with severe emotional problems.


A long Bears drive dies at the Seattle 11-yard line after the Bears fail to pick up a fourth-and one. The play called was a Michael Bush dive into the middle of the line, and it went nowhere. I have absolutely nothing statistical or factual to back this up, but does it not seem like the jumbo set, smash-it-into-the-line play is failing more often these days? Maybe I’m imagining this. My own half-ass theory is that today’s defensive tackles are bigger and stronger than ever, while some teams have trended toward smaller, more athletic centers and guards. I may not know what the fuck I’m talking about.


Special teamer Jimmy Wilson of Miami roughs Patriots punter Zoltan Mesko with a facemask to the taint. First down, Pats.


Mark Sanchez heaves a pathetic back-foot throw downfield, and it’s picked off by Kerry Rhodes. On the sidelines, someone hands him a telephone, and I imagine on the other end that someone is saying, “So … you’re just never going to get better, then? Never?”


The annual Victoria’s Secret fashion show, network television’s tribute to jism-soaked couch cushions, will be airing on December 4th on CBS. I don’t know if they’ve completely misread their audience, or they have a gross misunderstanding of the purpose of their own show, but they’ve added performances by Justin Bieber and Bruno Mars to the program. Because that’s what gentlemen want to see when masturbating to supermodels. The guys they actually might fuck.


A tremendous stat from the Cardinals/Jets game: On the last nine pass attempts in that game, there has been one completion and three interceptions.


Another fine stat: The Cardinals, on 30 offensive plays, have gained 70 yards. On one fake punt, they gained 40. I’m not sure who the Cardinals have started at quarterback this week. Rian Lindell, I think.


I haven’t seen any of the game, but halftime highlights tell me that Brady Quinn is throwing the ball very efficiently for the Chiefs. The only possible explanation: Brady Quinn thrives on human tragedy. If Quinn’s quarterback rating keeps going up, and a string of people go missing in Kansas City, I have my suspect.


The beef between Drew Brees and One Direction is evidently dragging on. I just hope they can come to some sort of an understanding before this one ends up like Pac and Biggie. I am looking forward, however, to this feud being examined by “Beef” on Fuse.


More from Brady Quinn. He hits Jonathan Baldwin on a little slant to give Kansas City a 24-14 lead. Kansas City needed a hero, and they have one. After the TD, CBS cameras cruelly show Matt Cassel on the sidelines, as if to say, “Look at this fucker! Not even as good as Brady Quinn!


Ooooh, and lookie here. I think Mark Sanchez is about to get benched. I can’t hear the game, but Sanchez is wearing a hat and Greg McElroy is warming up. This is when it finally happens, is it? Hey, no shame in your game, Sanchez. You somehow got an NFL team to start you for three-and-a-half years. You’re an inspiration to back-up quality quarterbacks everywhere.


Cardinals linebacker Brandon Williams picks up a 15-yard penalty for … I don’t know. I think the official call was hitting Greg McElroy in bounds, but making it look like it was kind of out-of-bounds, and besides, things are hard enough for a Jets quarterback anyway. Yes. That was it. Fifteen yards. It’s the Jets’ biggest offensive play of the day. In fact, it’s the best thing a Jets quarterback has done in about three-and-a-half years.


A few plays later, it’s Touchdown, Jets! McElroy hits a wide open Jeff Cumberland in the endzone, and at long last, we have someone who can make the most out of the talents of Jeff Cumberland. Scoff if you want, but Larry Fitzgerald is on the other sideline thinking, “Man, I wish we had a Greg McElroy to put in the game.”


This looks like the week that my Henne-rection softens. Chad is struggling against the Bills (which is not the team against which you want to struggle), and Buffalo just pushed the lead to 24.


Rian Lindell of the Cardinals throws the football to a wide open patch of turf just on the other side of the endzone. Coming back to the huddle, Larry Fitzgerald is pointing at himself, as if to say, “Me, dude. Throw it to me. Or someone dressed like me.” On the next play, Lindell tried to throw it to Fitzgerald on a short, simple, out pattern and overthrew him by about three yards. And Fitzgerald, though he’d never want to take anyone with him, wonders if Jovan Belcher didn’t have the right idea.


The benching of Sanchez has made me start watching this goddamn game. On surrounding TVs, there are compelling games between the Bears and Seahawks, and Patriots and Dolphins. Somehow, I’ve gotten caught up in watching this game that has all the aesthetic value of watching sewer rats fuck.


Hey, there’s Mike Tolbert with a long catch-and-run for the Panthers. He finishes it off by lowering his shoulder in classic Kool-Aid Man style. I miss that guy. Damn you, Panthers, for stealing Mike Tolbert and letting him get lost in your offensive black hole. He can be a useful tool for a team with a well-rounded offense. You’ve got to let a Chanticleer shine.


To the great disappointment of the prisoners in San Quentin, Colin Kaepernick screws up an option pitch, and Janoris Jenkins of the Rams grabs it for a touchdown. If the Rams convert the two-point conversion, we’ll be tied and heading to overtime. If this ends in another tie, I’m going to suspect that the NFL is controlled by the same people who manipulated me into wanting to see Pacquiao/Marquez IV.


Greg McElroy, desperate to fit in, attempts an interception for the Jets. He looks deep over to the right side, and HE’S GOT IT! Oh, god dammit. It’s going to be called back for illegal contact.


I know I haven’t mentioned them, but there are good quarterbacks playing today, and one of them, Russell Wilson is leading a big boy drive right now. He scrambles to his right and throws to Sidney Rice for a 27-yard gain, setting the Seahawks up at the Chicago 14-yard line with :32 to play.


On the next play, Golden Tate danceshis way into the endzone for what could be a game-winning touchdown. A legitimate one this time, which is a nice change of pace for Tate.


The Jets, at the Cardinals six-yard-line with a one-point lead, hand the ball to Shonn Greene who slices through the line, and then takes a knee at the one-yard-line so the Jets can just run out the clock. As if Shonn Greene isn’t enough of an asshole to fantasy football enthusiasts.


So the Bears are down three now, and have just 24 seconds to get from their own 14 into field goal range. Cutler’s going to throw, and holy balls, it’s complete. Fifty-six yards downfield to Brandon Marshall. Marshall is great – he’s dominated this game about as much as a receiver can dominate a game – but that’s pretty shameful, Seattle.


Two plays later, Robbie Gould will kick Chicago into overtime. After the overtime coin toss, Jay Cutler, as he’s leaving the field, picks up the coin and gives it to the official. Awww! I love the holiday season. Even Jay Cutler turns into less of a wang.


San Francisco/St. Louis has also gone to overtime. I just hope we can get this game over with before all of Colin Kaepernick’s fans have to get back to their cells.


In overtime, Russell Wilson comes up with more big boy football. A touchdown pass to Sidney Rice wins it for the Seahawks. Unfortunately, the play also resulted in the near-decapitation of Sidney Rice, but hey, the ball crossed the goal line first, so that’s all that matters. I’m sorry your arms are making that weird, clenching, concussion gesture, Sidney.


Not only did I have concerns about the NFL going through with the Panthers/Chiefs game today, I think they should have also canceled Browns/Raiders.


Uh oh. Ike Taylor has left the Steelers/Ravens game early, and is unlikely to return, which is just a huge kick in the wiener for the Steelers. Aside from Ben Roethlisberger, he might be the guy the Steelers can least afford to lose. There’s just no way they’re winning this game.


The Bengals, on their first drive of the game, are going for a 4th and 9 in borderline field goal territory. It’s almost like they don’t respect the Chargers pass defense. Screw you, Marvin Lewis, for making the right call in a situation where I would find conventional wisdom to be more convenient for me. They convert, of course, and the drive turns into a touchdown.


I’m in need of a change of scenery. I’ll be watching the rest of the afternoon games from an establishment called The Tilted Kilt, or, as I like to call it, Hooters, But We’re Not Fuckin’ Around. The girls there wear these plaid push-up bras that make every pair of tits look like porno tits.


By the time I get there, the Chargers have gone up 10-7 on the Bengals. I’m feeling good about the move. Also, I’m joined here by my buddy Adam. This is probably the last you’ll hear about him, because while he is a dear friend, he’s also not the kind of person who contributes anything to anything.


Strike one against The Tilted Kilt: I sit at the bar for about ten minutes before anyone acknowledges my existence. Strike two: When I am acknowledged, it’s by a dude. Not cool, Kilt Girls. I have feelings, you know.


Peyton Manning is being chased out of bounds, but before taking the loss of yardage, he gently tosses the ball ahead to a running back who had fallen down. It earns him a pat on the helmet from Greg Schiano, which is, I believe, nicer than anything Greg Schiano has ever done for a Buccaneer.


I order something called The Irish Nachos, and when preceding the word “nachos,” apparently “Irish” means “cold and shitty.” Guess what, Tilted Kilt? I’m too fuckin’ old to overlook poor service and low-quality food just because your employees have agreed to shove their tits in my face. I’m taking the money I was going to tip you, and giving it to a 78-year-old waitress at Denny’s who brings me eggs while smoking a Marlboro.


Mike Wallace of the Steelers gets himself wiiiiiiiiiide open in the endzone, and Charlie Batch throws the ball about eight feet over his head. Wallace looked at it and started to jump, then changed his mind and never left his feet because fuck it, he wasn’t getting there.


Meanwhile, the Chargers finish off a surprisingly competent first half against the Bengals, taking a 13-10 lead into halftime.


Confession: I’m moderately excited to see “Jack Reacher”. I’ve read none of the books, but Tom Cruise in a campy, over-the-top version of the Bourne movies? How could that not be entertaining? Also, “Jack Reacher” was the pseudonym I used in my adult film career.


The Steelers give the ball to Jonathan Dwyer, who disappears into a mass of humanity, then somehow pops out of the left side of the pile and hauls ass to the endzone. Unbelievably, this game is tied at 13.


Terry Bradshaw, doing highlights at halftime, wants everyone to know how funny it is that he can’t pronounce “Moeaki.”


A commercial for “The Hobbit” leads Adam to tell me about his days working at a movie theater, when there were people who camped out overnight to see the new Star Wars movie. Some of them were dressed up as “that bear-lookin’ dude.” Ah, kids.


Oh, Emmanuel Sanders, you gigantic sack of elephant spunk. Charlie Batch hit him perfectly in stride on a play that could’ve gone to the house, and not only did Sanders drop it, but he caught it first and then dropped it.


People make mistakes, though. It was unnecessary to call Emmanuel Sanders a gigantic sack of elephant spunk there. I am sorry. I’m sure he’s a wonderful man.


Also, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but Charlie Batch has been playing pretty well.


Here’s Pacman Jones with a nice punt return to set the Bengals up in field goal territory against the Chargers. It gets called back, but that was a nice reminder that Pacman Jones is still out there, still not committing crimes. If anyone ever deserved a pat on the back for just not being an asswad, it’s Pacman. Great job, man.


Spontaneously, the Bengals/Chargers game is turned off, in favor of getting the Steelers/Ravens on an 87th television. What the fiddlesticks, Tilted Kilt? Have I done something to offend someone here? I’m really sorry that I’m not walking around telling every waitress that they give me a skin-ripping boner. It’s as if this place his been engineered from the ground up to hurt my feelings.


FLACCO FUMBLE! How are the Steelers in this game? It’s either a Herculean effort on their part, or the Ravens are little girls. Also, Joe Flacco, you’re currently being outplayed by Charlie Batch, which I guess makes him elite, too.


The Chargers/Bengals game is going to end with Philip Rivers getting trampled by a mass of Bengals and fumbling the football away. Oh, there will still be enough time that the Chargers might later appear to be making a late-game charge, but it’ll be an illusion. They’re far more comfortable collapsing.


Paul Kruger of the Ravens commits one of the dumbest late hits I’ve ever seen, gifting Batch and the Steelers 15 free yards. The ball had been thrown and then Kruger decided to reach up and club Batch in the back of the head. He didn’t even hit him hard enough to hurt him. There was absolutely no point to that.


Philip Rivers is doing what he always does after he fucks something up – calmly talking it over with Norv Turner. When Norv loses his job at the end of the season, I’m afraid these guys are both going to lose their best friend. I only ever see them talking to each other.


The Steelers have set up Shaun Suisham for an attempt at a game-winning field goal … and he’s got it. Just an unreal win for the Steelers – in Baltimore, no Ben, no Ike Taylor, an offense that was absolute garbage last week, and they steal one from the team that hates them most. The Steelers absolutely had to have that, too, because the Colts won and it looks like the Bengals will, too.


Speaking of which, here comes the fake comeback attempt effort from the Chargers. With over 1:00 to play and the ball at the Cincinnati 16, Philip Rivers tries four times to throw to convert a low-percentage throw to the endzone. There was a first down available to them, and they had plenty of time. Why they felt they needed constant shots to the endzone, I have no idea. But the last one was picked off, because of course it was.


Next week, the Chargers continue their “Please Teabag Us, Teams of the AFC North” Tour in Pittsburgh.