Fantasy Football

The Downtown Clowns is a Fantasy Football league comprised of mostly downtown Bend, Oregon bartenders. It took me years to get the Downtown Clowns to invite me into their league. I’d wanted on the roster so much; too much, it seems.

One year after I married Whitey, he vouched that “hey, she actually likes football” and I got my coveted invite. I joke (ha ha – HAHAHAH) sometimes that I married him just so I could join the league.

The Commissioner is a true professional, and hosts an organized draft at his house about a week before the NFL season begins. My first year, I brought crab-stuffed mushrooms. And last year? I took a bottle of top-shelf tequila (with the ulterior motive of getting the boys drunk so they’d slip up during their picks). As the only female on the league, there are certain bribes that I feel are mandatory that I bring to the table.

That first year that I was in the league, Whitey won the Championship and I tied for fourth place. Last year I won the Pick ‘Em contest (where you choose which fantasy team wins the head-to-head each week).

Unfortunately, we aren’t able to make the 2007 draft to be held this upcoming Wednesday at the Commissioners house in Bend. I’m pretty bummed about it, but we have to make our restaurant a priority. When we have a two-inch high stack of paperwork to attend to, Fantasy has to take a back burner.

We’re going to still be at the Draft, only not in person. All praise the Internet!!!!

We’re setting up a chat-room, where our diligent, intelligent, and handsome Commissioner will let us know who is drafted at his house and we will, in turn, type out who we choose to play on our winning teams. I’ve drawn second pick; Whitey has 11th.

I can’t wait! I wonder if I should Fed-Ex Overnight a tray of homemade appetizers?

I’ll post my team (and possibly Whitey’s as well) later this week.

GO PAIZANO’S!!!!!!!!!!

(as a bonus to those of you who made it this far, here is the cheat sheet I’m using for the draft)

PS: the “handsome” comment…. I’ve told Whitey that GOD FORBID anything happen to him, I’d have to snag our Commissioner as a new husband. He’s good-looking, likes football, and is one of the most respectful, most polite guys I’ve ever met. Whitey then chose his replacement for me: the barista at the local Starbucks. Needless to say, we’ve cut back on coffee around here.

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