Saturday, August 01, 2009

Jay Cutler Talks Fantasy Football...Kind of

What's the story, nerds? It's Cutty-buddy here, talkin' fantasy football. Here's who your first pick should be:

1. Jay Motherfucking Cutler

Harper Lee up in this bitch, 'cuz that's all she wrote. (What? I'm white. I went to college.) You can just box up your chicken strips and peace out that bitch. Auto-draft the rest of your picks 'cuz you don't need 'em anyways. Oh, you don't have first pick? No prob, Bob. Just cut up a bunch of pieces of paper, write "Jay Cutler" on all of 'em, throw 'em in a visor, and pull any of 'em out. Bam, like Emeril Lagasse. First pick. Don't worry. It works.

In the time I've saved not doing fantasy football research, I've been doing some other shit. I hired Devin Hester, who's totes my numero one wingman--we got bracelets--to create a bunch of fake leagues online and fake draft me number one in all of 'em. To pull up the overall numbers.

And to make sure my arm can cash all the checks my ass is writin' out, I been slingin' that shit all day long. Gotta keep that gun polished. I used to just pump irons with my right hand no fag to make it stronger. But Matt Cassell's probably even doing that. I gotta take it to the next echelon.

Here's what I did. I know a lot of young moms, and they always joke about how the arm they hold their baby in gets a bunch stronger than the other one. I can't get pregnant even if that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie is awesome, so nine months ago I knocked up a bunch of bitches. Right about now them ovens are about to ding, and I'm gonna be curling babies 'til the Devin Hesters come home. I hope babies can be on sailboats.

Speaking of the great outdoors, see that Cutler-made lake in the picture at the top? I froze it so that I could make my pad more like Chicago. Then I drilled a hole into it and swam down into that shit. I've been slingin' that pigskin underwater to make my arm stronger. It works. Don't worry. Only thing that sucks about it is that I can't hear my Jimmy Buffett CDs no matter how loud I play 'em.

I have to go barbecue some steaks. But don't worry. I'm only flippin' with my right hand. Cutler out.

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