Cheer Up, Charlie - You've Got a Golden Ticket

I just have a tiny bit to say about the Charlie Frye trade: He's coming from an abysmal situaltion in Cleveland. His line sucks, the coaching sucks, (they pick their starter with coin flip? IDIOTS!!!) the city sucks, and he would eventually be replaced by an ambiguously gay Brady Quinn.

Now he's going to a legit Super Bowl contender, the best QB-mentoring head coach in the business (with three hall of fame students in his wake), and just the right amount of time behind the 1st and 2nd string QB's in front of him to develop into a damn fine, prepared QB.

I had this idea to point out the similarities between Charlie Frye and Charlie the lame orphan kid that takes over a whole fucking chocolate factory, but I got sidetracked when I found this classic clip you see below.

It's much better than anything I had to write anyway.

Here's to Frye making the best of this golden freaking opportunity!

A Lesson on How to Suck at Showing Football

In the spirit of KSK and Deadspin...the new objective of 12SS appears to be dick jokes. Plus, Alba loves him some loljocks. Combine the two, and its amazing that he hasn't posted something related to Bill Simmons' leg shot from his "I'm a Red Sox Homer bitching about Red Sox Homers" photo album/column from Tampa Bay.

(BTW: The loljock for that pic should be..."Douche Cat iz spillin' Bloomin' Onion, mate.")

I, however, want to give you an education. And education on how to suck. Now, if you're the Bears running game...this post isn't for you. If your Chris Simms' spleen, you probably actually are part of the Bears' running game.

No, this post is for those of you that are dedicated to sucking more then Alex Smith (that, my friends, is called a double entente). Today's lesson: How to suck at being a bar with NFL Sunday Ticket.

It was week one of the NFL Season. I am officially jacked up. But, not so jacked up that I care about the early games. Early games are what are known as "hangover go away time". But, I was still pumped up to go to the bar, watch the Seahawks, and eat fattening, fattening foods and wash it down with cold, cold beer.

Now, there are two places in my town to do this...lets break this down Ron Jaworski style.

1) Buffalo Wild Wings. A glorious place, twenty-four kinds of beer on tap, 18 different flavors of wings sauce. Mini corn dogs I would kill a hooker for, and gigantic TVs. However, its on the other side of town and will be more crowded then the reception at Brady Quinn and Jeff Garcia's wedding.

2) Mugsy Maguire's. On my side of town and not crowded. Not crowded for these reasons: Food not as great, limited beer (but they have a decent selection) plus the TVs aren't as gigantic. What is gigantic? The waitresses' chestal region. So, it gets points.

Knowing that I am in the middle of Bears country and that their moronic fans are tripping over themselves to watch their team lose badly in week one, I go into this with a few expectations. 1) Some Chicago guy will make fun of my Seahawk stuff. 2) I'm not getting my game on a big screen TV anyway. 3) I will totally laugh at the Bears' fans at about...oh,6:00ish.

With that in mind, I decide to go to Mugsy's. It starts off well enough. i get a parking spot, get a table with my friends, and watch the final quarter of the late games. Cute waitress is serving me cold beer...and not bad beer. I'm drinking Amberbock. If there's anything that says football beer more then a dark lager...you're wrong. Just saying. We order wings, mozzarella sticks, and pizza.

Now, the late games are starting, so I hail down my waitress and I ask politely if I could, please, get the Seattle-Tampa game on one of these TVs near me. She says yes.

This is the first step in ensuring you provide a horrible Gameday experience: Don't deliver on promised games!

I watch, in horror, as remote control guy goes around and turns every TV to the Bears-Chargers game. Except for the TV behind me, which is showing highlights of the Cubs losing to the Pirates. If I wasn't angry, I'd laugh at that. Actually...one second...


HAHAHA!!1! THE PIRATES?!?!? HAHAHAHAHA!

Twenty minutes later, Tits McGee comes back to inform us that the cook "forgot about our pizza" and burnt it. Now, one would think chef has two primary duties. 1) Put food in oven. 2) Take it out. Little children with those EZ Bake play ovens understand this. The chef at Mugsy's? Apparently, he was that kid that kept running over his own feet with a Tonka truck. So, step 2 of providing a bad Gameday experience...mess up the food somehow.

At this point, I take time to ask the waitress if I could please get the Seahawks game, for I would like to enjoy it from my seat, not watch from across the pub. Again, yes.

10 minutes later...Cubs highlights...more Bears game...and wondering why we can't move the ball from first and goal at the one. I am what is known as...mildly irritated.

Before the pizza comes, I ask one more time: Seahawks game? I'm still maintaining courtesy, mostly because if the service is this bad already...what would they do if I angered them? Pour vodka on my and light me on fire? Key my car? Sing Bear Down Chicago Bears? I was going to be polite about this.

Finally, the pizza comes. HOORAY! At Mugsy's though, the pizza is greasy. So, I ask for forks. Oh, and the Seahawks game. That would be awesome. By the way, another ten minutes has passed since I last asked for the game. I think we've scored a touchdown by this point.

The waitress comes back a while later...but not with forks. No, this is the "How are things going?" check-up. Well, babe, let me tell you something. I've waited an hour for pizza I knew wasn't going to be great, I've asked four times for a football game that still isn't on TV, and now you've forgotten forks. Things are GREAT.

This is what I would have said if I, you know, felt like making a cute blonde girl cry. Sometimes its good to boost the 'ol ego that way. However, I didn't get a chance to do this because as soon as she asked how we were, she remembered that we had requested forks. It was dim, it was flickering, but the light bulb did come on above her head.

Finally, after finishing the pizza, not watching the Seahawks, and being terrified of how they might mistreat me next (I'm sorry...you DIDN'T order the knife to the throat?) I payed the bill and my Bears' fans friends went to my apartment to watch the Chargers win. I followed the Seahawks online.

So, there you have it kiddos. You want to throw a terrible Sunday Ticket party? Make your guests watch bad games, be late on food, and forget simple requests. Its an easy three step process that if followed will ensure the scorn and hatred of your friends. Hell, I had to refrain from flipping off the establishment on my way to work today.

Any other ideas on how to ensure sucknitude reigns at your next football party? Leave them in the comments!