the cost of deflation

they say the third monday in january is the saddest day of the year...they call it blue monday...and at this point many would argue that the new england patriots should be blue...and not because of their uniforms...but for deflated balls...laugh track...and in this day and age when bowls are determined by balls...laugh track...i want to laugh...because i want this, the ultimate in distraction, to...well...distract...but it's the third week in january...and we are just a bit over one third into winter...not close enough to spring for me...and i am, hopefully, one week away from taking this freaking sling off my right arm...but that's only a small step in what is turning out to be a longer road to recovery than i thought...and i'm getting stir crazy...and i should just paste everything i eat...and don't eat...to my ass...and i am going to throw the scale out the window...and hope by some miracle that at that given moment tom brady just happens to be underneath...pretty boy face with the idiot knit hat...poker face as he claims innocence...yes...i hope he is there...with that uber-skinny bitch wife, giselle...and then maybe the spell of blue monday will be broken...then i would laugh till the sling ached...and so would peyton...and bridget moynahan...and my dad, up there, the ultimate giants fan...we'd all laugh at the cost of air in your balls...which as it turns out...is priceless...