accidental feminist

Open Letter to Tom Brady February 3, 2008

Dear Tom:

Yes, for the second year in a row, I actually cared who won the Super Bowl (and not just because I was nostalgic for the Super Bowl Shuffle™ like last year!) Oh, Tom, you are surely the better quarterback: you are more talented, more handsome, more awesomer. You don’t do as funny a commercial as Eli, but, hey, i get it, you’re a leading man type, not a character actor.

But you just couldn’t seem to throw that ball tonight, Tom. Did you see that play when Eli just kept running, even when they were hanging off his jersey like little monkeys, then chucked it up to whichever Giants receiver it was (see? I didn’t even bother to learn their names, Tom; that’s how little they meant to me), and that guy caught the ball between his hand and his helmet and just held it like it was gonna run away? That was a sweet play! Why didn’t you make it?

And yet, despite the fact that you sullied what would have been a record-breaking 19-0 season, you are still super awesome because you will still go home to Giselle, although tonight you may be too tired to reap your just desserts (read: lick whipped cream off her perfect body).

I did, however, and please forgive me, have this sick fantasy that somehow Payton would find his way to her box during the game and charm her with his down-home, laid-back style, thereby having you get screwed by both brothers in one night.

Probably a long shot, huh? Sort of like the Giants’ win tonight. Oh, uh-uh, I din’t. Yes, Tom, I did.