Confession time:
I took an evening with the missus to celebrate our new second home purchase. I saw we took another mother****inf DT and stepped away from the table to kill a wino.
Had another couple of beers. Saw that we traded our next pick to the motherfu***ng Eagles who the guy we most could have used, excused myself, and went on a mother****ing killing spree. Returned to see that we had drated the ultimate 5'9" mother****ing balling MACHINE, for whom I've already professed my deep and abiding love. Well, once you've killed a wino (or 12) you can't bring 'em back.
Once I defined the parameters of my crisis of conscience, I check in to find that we've taken the TE I've targeted in my last 71 mock drafts.
My soul has been compromised, and I no longer trust anything I've been raised to believe.
I am also soooo **** ing drunk. this is probably a good time to check out. I probably won't. But I'm at least memorializing that it would be.
I also want Rempe to lose either an eye or a testicle on the ice tonight.
Bit that's another rant for another time.