MCFFL Draft Order!

It's vacation week at the Gibsons', which means two things: I am sunburnt, and Mags and Jules pulled the draft order. So, without further ado, the Mehall Cousin Fantasy Football League draft for 2012 will proceed as follows...

Preparing the name slips, and getting some cheek from Jules.

First pick! Who will it be?

Jamie! (Incidentally, Jamie was recently heard declaring, "We've got to get some new people pulling those names. They never pick me first!")

Julia's first pick...

...goes to Jonas.

Our faithful recorder.

Melis got third...

...and she was totally thrilled. When asked her opinion about the draft positions, she responded that she thought 5th was the worst spot this year. Jen promptly got the 5th spot.

In the end, here's how it shook out.
I'm off to practice mock drafts in spot #7.

And so it begins. Again.

The 2011 Mehall Cousin Fantasy Football League now has a drafting order. Last night Maggie pulled slips of paper to determine drafting positions and for the first time in four years I will not be drafting on the elbow. I'm smack in the middle, something my sisters tell me is a good thing, so I have chosen to believe them.


Kristen held the basket of names while Maggie drew, so everything was on the up and up.


Jen was extremely pleased with her spot in fourth position.


And here, if you can decipher through the bluriness of the photo and Melis' handwritin' of a serial killer, is the final drafting order.

Off to the mock draft site to practice...

If today was a fish, I'd have thrown it back.

Horrible, awful day at work. And there's still three more hours!

Am trying to remember that I am a Christian and it is not Christ-like to say to a co-worker, "You are a miserable troll. Go back to your cave."

The only way this day can be rescued is if Jermichael Finley gets at least seven points against Chicago tonight. It would make Jonesy's day decidedly worse, but I have to think about myself right now.

The Marie Division is mine!

I am delighted to tell you that I won my division in the cousins' Fastasy Football league. It was a hard fight, but in the end my team, The Dude Abides, rode Kurt Warner's 29 points to victory. The old man came through!

Aaron won the Frank Division and joining us in the playoffs are Melis, Jen, Scott, and Mark. What I am most excited about is the first round bye, which means I only have to win two more games to take the whole enchilada.

I feel like a Little Lebowski Urban Achiever.

Houston continues to be awesome.

Today, Amanda and I went to The Mad Potter to paint pottery. Liz and Kristen, I kinda felt like I was cheating on you.

Tonight, we went to Steel City Pizzeria, a Steelers-themed sports bar in Houston, to watch the Monday night game. The place was packed with Pittsburgh-lovin' Texans. As I've said before, Steeler fans, like Polamalu on the field, are everywhere. It was so much fun to watch the game with tons of people screaming like lunatics at every completed pass, yardage gain, and touchdown. This was just what I needed after sitting Kurt "40 points" Warner on my fantasy bench this week.

Proposal rescinded!

Remember when I wrote this? I take it all back. I'm not going to get into the Vernon Davis-related shenanigans. Just know that Mr. Roto cost me 27 points this week and I no longer wish to marry him.

27 points. I could throttle that man!

Marry me, Mr. Roto!

I don't know why people accuse the Talented Mr. Roto of wrecking their teams. I think he's some sort of mad genius. Last week I benched Derrick Ward and put in Steve Smith on his advice. Smith pulled in 12 points and Ward marked it zero. This week I benched top tight end Witten in favor of Roto-loved Vernon Davis, and it netted me 7 points. I adore this man!

In fact, the only person I adore more than him this week is David Garrard.


Thirty-seven points! David, you handsome devil.

This QB really ties the team together

My team is drafted and now I just have to hope that Kurt Warner doesn't shatter like a Czech crystal vase. Every time I turn around, someone is reminding me just how old and decrepit he is. Whatev!

Also, I now realize that my team name opens me up to taunts of, "Mark it zero, dude" anytime one of my players fails to produce. I accept that risk.

"Put the piece away, Walter."

Draft day!

Today, we draft. This year my team is named The Dude Abides, and my team slogan is. "This is not Nam. This is Fanstasy Football. There are rules." Either that, or, "Obviously you're not a golfer."

If you’re not getting any of this, you have my sympathy. Get thee to Netflix.

I'm drafting in first position. I don't want to spoil the surprise for anyone, but if you're one of the 3 people who read this blog, I'm giving you the inside scoop: I'll be taking AP. I really hope he does well, because by the time it snakes back to pick #20, I'll probably stuck with, like, Willis McGahee.

Hooray for the start of football season. "You got a date Sunday, baby!"

Two quick things

1. I will be drafting first in this year's cousin fantasy league. (Aaand we just lost Linda and Becky.) I drafted dead last last year so I will still be picking two in a row, but I'm feeling the pressure of making the first choice good enough to last me until choice #20. And I think my sweet, darling Drew and I will have to part ways this year.

2. More casting decisions have been made for the Red Dawn remake and changes to the characters are being announced. Between this and John Hughes' untimely death, the 80s are taking a serious beating. It's making me so upset that I'm going to have to cut myself off from any further remake news. I'll just give you this tidbit so you can be as aghast as I am: They're making Erica into the head cheerleader/Matt's girlfriend, and Matt is going to risk everything to free her from an internment camp. Also, Daryl is being played by Tom Cruise's son. There. Go forth and be mortified.

So I’m going to talk about a few things, starting with pedicures and ending with hockey.

Jen and Melis and I went for pedicures last night at a place in the Galleria. The pedis were awesome and my feet look so nice now. As I was sitting there, allowing the nail polish to dry, I realized that I had idiotically worn my socks and sneakers there and if I tried to put them back on, they’d mess up my pretty new toenails. The pedicure place offered me some of their disposable flip flops and I really had no choice but to take them and wear them out into the mall. It was one of the more public of my many humiliations. I was trudging (yes, trudging, because I still had those foam separators between my toes) through the mall in bright yellow foam flip flops that were as thick as a fruit roll-up, and just as flimsy. I made Melis bring the car up to get me.

Then we headed to Applebee’s for dinner where talk turned to Fantasy Football, as it is wont to do. And if Becky or Linda were even reading this post, we just lost them there. Anyway, we talked about last year’s season and all the memories came back; how much I love Ronnie Brown, how much I despise Randy Moss, and how much Terrell Owens decimates any team foolish enough to take him.

Melis also mentioned that some of the guys would like to do a Points Per Reception league this year and how PPRs make someone like Wes Welker much more valuable. Then she started talking about receptions across the middle with a west coast offense and how Boldin got screwed because Arizona gave Fitz such an amazing contract. I may be getting some of the terms wrong here, but you get the picture. Anyway the guy at the next table over looked at Melis with an expression of shock and awe. He was thinking, “Holy crap! It’s a girl! And she knows about football! She knows more about football than I do!” And if it wouldn’t have been exceedingly tacky, I’d have whipped out my phone right there and snapped his photo because his expression was a delight. Also I was too busy being enraged by memories of Randy “Butterfingers” Moss dropping football after football in what could only be a personal attack on me and my Fantasy team. Jerk.

So now I’m all geared up for the next fantasy season and I’m wishing these endless hockey playoffs, which have been going on for like eight months now, would be over already. But, you know, go Pens!

I despise Randy Moss with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.

I don't want to get into it; it's a long story. Suffice it to say that man will take any opportunity to screw me over and he's proven it in spades this week. I loathe him from the bottom of his hooves to the top of his pitchfork.

The Fickle Finger of Fantasy Football

You know, I could use this space to say something really snarky about Linda or Becky, because I know they didn't even make it past the title of the post. I won't do that, but it's nice to have the freedom.

Instead, I will save my snark for my wretched FF team and the way it is undergoing a very public, Mariah Carey-esque meltdown. This week I painfully surrendered the Division lead to Jamie, and if her brothers-in-law don't cut me some slack in the next two weeks, I may not even make the play-offs. Randy Moss doesn't catch much and apparently Lee Evans doesn't catch anything at all. It's disheartening to know that I could have donned a Buffalo Bills uniform and took to the field in his place and the outcome would have been the same.

Gentlemen, please stop sucking.

Now you see that evil will always triumph because good is dumb.

Tim Hightower's projected Fantasy score: 20

Tim Hightower's actual Fantasy score: 4

Thank you for your evil support.

(Sorry, Scott.)

It has come to my attention that I may, in fact, be a horrible person.

I hesitate to talk about Fantasy Football because apparently I have made myself odious to some of my family members in doing so. To quote Becky, "When you talk about Fantasy Football, all I hear is 'blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.'" To further quote Aunt Linda, "It's not just that I'm hearing 'blah, blah, blah.' It's that I'm thinking, 'She's usually interesting, and now why doesn't she just shut up?'" But I cannot shut up! I am here to make an impassioned plea to my readership. All four of you. (Minus Aunt Linda, who stopped reading this seven words into the post). I need us all to pull together and put the hex on Arizona Cardinals running back Tim Hightower, the last remaining player on Scott's team and the only one who can push Scott's score over mine. Hightower is projected to get 20 points tonight, but I can't afford for him to get more than 13.

Scott has already won the Survivor competition. (Congrats, Scott.) He doesn't need to win the weekly match-up as well. Perhaps if we all send enough bad thoughts Hightower's way, he'll trip over his own feet and be out in the first quarter.

You know, I never claimed to be a decent person.

This is most certainly going to end badly for me.

Not such a good week in Fantasy Football for me. Drew Brees finally self-destructed and Ronnie Brown got a karmic slap in the face for the 41 points he gained in week three. And my kicker? Got me ZERO. I could have just FORGOTTEN to put a kicker on my roster and I'd be in the same boat.

If all of this means nothing to you, just know this: Tonight, I am putting my head-to-head record and my place in the Survivor poll in the butterfinger hands of Randy Moss. If I could breathe, I would vomit.

My team is as shallow as Paris Hilton

I am doing shockingly, particularly well in Fantasy Football. I have had the overall top score for three of the five weeks we played. And you know what? I think I figured out why. Listen up, people, because here is the secret for a winning FF team: no depth on the bench. No depth on the bench. That’s all there is to it.

I discovered this when I looked at Jonesy’s bench this week and saw a mortifying 95 points there (more than his starting lineup actually scored), including 32 points from DeAngelo Williams alone. This has happened to many of my fellow players, but not to me. My bench never scores high. And that’s when I realized it: I have nobody good on my bench, therefore I have no real decisions to make for my lineup, therefore I avoid all that tinkering that can end up biting you in the butt.

Now, if some of my starters get injured, I am screwed but good; but if they can just stay healthy, I can continue to avoid making any decisions at all, aside from the ones I made on draft day. And there it is ladies and gentlemen: no backups, no handcuffs, nothing that can insure you from total disaster in the event you are “Tom Brady-ed.” I may be one snapped hamstring away from complete annihilation, but that’s the way I play.

Now please, for the love of decency, pray for my hamstrings!

Dallas ruins everything!

This week was not so stellar for me in Fantasy Football and, as is usually the case, most of the blame rests with the Dallas Cowboys. They screw up everything!

But first, just when I thought my Ronnie Brown's 41-point performance last week might be the season's best, Brett Farve had to go and totally go off his meds this week, racking up an insane 45 points. Congrats to Jamie who was the happy recipient there. What a performance!

In other aforementioned news, I loathe the Dallas Cowboys. Like the fool that I am, I picked them in both my work survivor league and the cousin suicide league. I should have known they'd go out of their way to lose, and at home no less, just to stick it to a Steelers fan. They are so spitefully selfish. Mark and I are now out of the suicide poll and the prize will go to either Mr. or Mrs. Livermore.

And now all my hopes for the week rest in the capable hands of Mr. Hines Ward. If he can just rack up ten fantasy points for me tonight, I will beat Brian and clinch the division lead. Hines, I believe in you! You can do it!

Marry me, Ronnie Brown!

This week was a fabulous one for my fantasy football team! My much derided draft pick, Ronnie Brown, vindicated me big time. He kicked 41 types of butt, and racked me up a point for each of them. The dude is a running back, and he threw a touchdown pass yesterday. Genius! The Giants, in a highly stressful situation (for me), managed to pull out a win by the hairs of their chinny chin chins, allowing me to stay in the Suicide League. And depending on how Philip Rivers performs for Mark tonight (hopefully well, but not too well), I may clinch this week's immunity prize. An excellent week, overall.

However, in wide receiver news, Randy Moss continues to prove his utter uselessness. Does anybody want him? Because right now I am ready to trade him for, like, a glazed donut and two Sharpie markers.

An open letter to several members of the NFL

Dear Matt Cassel,

You may genuinely be unaware of this, but one of your teammates is the league's top receiver. No, not him; the other guy. The one with a big 81 on his jersey. And here's the thing, he's on my roster and I really need him to get me some points so please, for the love of decency, you wretched little brat, throw to him!

Dear Randy Moss,

I don't know if you kicked Matt Cassel's dog or just stole his hair gel, but he's not throwing to you so much. So, when he does actually throw to you, do try not to drop the ball like it's a candied ham. Butterfingers!

Dear Hines,

Carry on, sir, just as you were. XOXO