Fate Excused my Lackadaisical Approach

You didn’t actually think that I’d accurately predict the outcomes of both conference championship games last weekend…did you?  Being average seems to be the hoodie that fits best over my unintelligible skull.  However…Cutler being knocked out of the game after the 1st series in the 3rd quarter may have had something to do with the outcome in the Bears-Packers game.  Shit…you know damn well that I’ll ride that scapegoat to a photo-finish.

However…truth be told, I wouldn’t bet a nickel on 100-1 odds on Jay Cutler in big moments – so maybe it wouldn’t have made nary a difference if he had finished.  In Cutler, I’ve yet to trust.  I remember fueding with a friend of mine about his departure from Denver.  I remember supporting Cutler and calling him one of the better young QBs in the game.  I’d like to humbly recant those statements.  Jay Cutler is a good NFL QB, but I definitely wouldn’t consider him a Top 10 QB.  I think Bears’ fans (and all rational football fans) can finally admit what it was that began as a whisper in 2006 at the Bears training camp and soon carried onto the shores of South Beach at the 2006 Super Bowl:  Sexy Rexy Grossman.  He is/was the truth. What other QB in the league can render Donovan McNabb irrelevant and have Caleb Hanie look more competent than Jay Cutler?  Bears’ fans have to stop comparing Rex to Jay.  It just isn’t fair to Cutler.  In Rex, I’ll always trust.  Now…let’s not get too carried away now…Grossman may be the truth, be he ain’t no Kyle Orton.  Just you watch, put Kyle Orton on a good team (i.e. Minnesota) and he will lead that team to the playoffs.  Money in the bank!  I guarantee that Kyle Orton will lead a team to the Super Bowl before Jessica Alba gets nominated for an Oscar.  Roll that ish up in your joint and don’t flip up the rotation.

If there’s anything you readers have learned about me over the years, it is that I can be full of an inordinate amount of ish.  I’m obviously exaggerating my unflappable adulation for Rex Grossman…however, I am morbidly serious Kyle Orton.  Put him on a team built to win and watch him help that team take the next step.  He may seem like a stat stuffer on a bad team…but place him on a team with a competent supporting cast and watch how much he’ll succeed.  You can put that on the record.

Since my little brother moved in with me, we’ve found ourselves ordering pizza a lot more frequently than I’d been accustomed to.  Before he moved in, I rarely ordered pizza.  Now?  Whenever I’m too lazy to cook on a weekend where I’m hibernating in my crib, we’ll order a pie or two.  Recently, we’ve been fairly consistent in ordering from Dominos (their new advertised recipes are pretty legit and they usually have some of the best promotions around).  However…the thing that irks me the most about getting pizza delivered to my crib is the delivery fee (no major pizza franchise can claim being exempt from doing this).  I understand that gas is pricier than it used to be a decade ago…but…what the flip is up with that delivery fee? Someone desperately needs to emulate Southwest Airlines in the pizza industry.  If I was one of the big boys of the pizza industry, I’d eliminate the delivery fee and make a commercial mocking, chastising, and berating the accepted practice of tacking on a delivery tariff made common by other pizza vendors.  You know what, I don’t even mind if you increase the price of your round pies slightly to compensate for the delivery fee – just don’t charge that motherlovin’ fee to me.  I have to pay that ridiculous fee AND tip the delivery guy?  That’s exactly why I’ve made it a habit to order carryout from now on.  That delivery fee can see these.  If only pizza franchises were more like Southwest Airlines…if only.

What’s been preoccupying my time recently has been preliminary wedding planning.  The fact that I’ll be married in the approaching future is a revelation unto itself that hasn’t settled in completely yet.  In my fading years of college, I was in a long distance relationship that I felt unfaltering certainty in going the distance.  In my mind, without a doubt, I believed I would be married by the age of 25.  As fate would fortunately have it, that situation dissolved from an assortment of boundless hopes and expectations to a disappointing assemblage of bewilderment and insecurities.  After that experience, I considered it an even money bet that I wouldn’t even meet someone of substance and significance until I was 30 years old – and you know what…I was perfectly content with that.  I’ve generally gone extended time periods between girlfriends, so I wasn’t discouraged by the thought of another protracted hiatus.  Plus, after the heartbreak that I went through, I decided to be as indifferent as possible about finding my eternal complement.  Finding someone…the right someone…is a burden I deferred from worrying about.  Too many people I know are desperate to meet that special someone.  I’ve been privy to more than a few random vents of frustration by single friends of mine. I just didn’t want to to go down that path of constant disappointment.  I didn’t want to find myself asking questions devoid of answers on a weekend-to-weekend basis.

I figured that I’d eschew the intelligent route for the ignant.  Rather than being proactive about finding someone, I banked on destiny intervening in my romantic life – and somehow…as planned…it did.  I somehow found the stones to tempt the deities of time.

My theory was to literally do nothing about finding a life partner.  I didn’t really want to go out of my way to date much.  So…I waited.  For whatever reason, maybe I was naive or ignorant, I just believed that I’d eventually meet the right person.  So, I did little in terms of determined action to accelerate that process.  Fortunately, fate excused my lackadaisical approach and blessed me with someone that can actually tolerate my shortcomings and overlook my fallacies.  So…my sedentary approach to love…unbelievably…worked.  Maybe I was right when I kept telling friends of mine that “love just shouldn’t be that hard”.  It just shouldn’t.

However, you won’t find me flailing away at my chest in irrepressible arrogance proclaiming how much a wisenheimer I am.  I got undeniably lucky – and I have no issue admitting it.