Let the Games Begin

Guess who's baaaaaaaack? It's me Dirty Jerz, aka Erin's NY Giants jersey. I booted Erin off the laptop this morning because today is like the cousin of Christmas, aka the start of the NFL season. I realize a lot of you felt this way about last weekend when college football kicked off but today is the day for the big guns to come out. NFL > NCAAF all season every season. Get it right get it tight. Tight like me on Erin's bod because I'm a youth medium. She'll never grow up that one...

Anyway, you might remember me from last year when I guest posted on here. It was quite a while ago when she had about two and a half friends reading this thing. I'm still not sure why or how she grew to have any more that that but I'll just leave it at than since this is her blog and all. My first ever post was written here. If you weren't one of those two and a half friends reading and/or are too lazy to click that link that I so feverishly attempted to stick in there (I have sleeves for hands, this shit's tough guys) then I'll give you a quick recap. 

It went a little like this:

1) The Giants are the best NFL team ever in life and if you say anything else I'll smother you...with myself. 

2) Erin told me that there are a lot of southerners (particularly Texans) in blogland and that you all probably like Tony Romo but I think he looks like Kim Possible's naked mole rat so he was donned the name Tony Romole. I'm a pretty clever piece of clothing, you have to admit.




3) That last picture makes it obvious that Eli Manning is the best quarterback ever in life and if you say anything else I'll head over to Hoboken, steal the Superbowl rings off his fingers, and say "Eat elite that bitch".

4) Erin told me that even though she despises the Patriots she'd probably still marry Tom Brady if she had the chance. But if and only if his hairs are cut short and he allows her to wear Gmen undies to bed. Erin also told me to include the following picture in this part of the post for you to feast your eyeballs on. Something about "holy fuckballz can a man get any hotter I'm about to die in my pants right now". Or something. She's neurotic. Then again I'm sure you already knew that. 

5) It pains me deep down to my core when I see chicks mutilating my species with bedazzles. Like why? That's like badazzling something sacred. Like a vagina. And no one could ever be crazy enough to do that right?

And there you have the majority of my last appearance on this here blog. The thing is now that I'm done recapping all of that, I have the sudden urge to just completely give up here and now and let that be it for the day. This is exhausting stuff for my fibers. Then again I do need to rest up quite a bit for the chaos that is about to ensue for the next five months. Erin stuffing 30 cent wings, an extra order of carrots and blue cheese just about every time, plus more bottles of beer than should be humanly possible for a youth medium-sized child to throw back all down my insides is something I need to prepare for. 

She may look like an innocent little priss that couldn't tell you the difference between a safety, a fumble, and an interception but she'll sit right down with the beef heads and glue her eyes to the tv all game long fighting with you about whether we should've run the ball or not. Don't underestimate a girl in a jersey. That is unless it's bedazzled...

I'm out of this place. I hope you enjoyed this brief interruption of Erin to be graced with the presence of the best piece of clothing on the planet. I may not set Twitter records like Miley's booty shorts but I sure am a hell of a lot better looking. Rock out with your game clocks out homies.

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