Oh.  My. Gawd.

AAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK!?

What is WRONG with me!?!?!

SHIT!

*breathe*

Okay.  I feel better.

NO I EFFING DON’T.

Yes I do.

That is how I’ve been starting out most of my Monday and/or Tuesday mornings for the past ten weeks.  As commissioner of the various Momspective Fantasy Football Training leagues and as a player in my neighborhood (all male, except for me) league, I have a wide variety of feelings I need to work through each week.  Fantasy Football makes you FEEL.  It might be one of the only things on God’s great earth that cause men to have any emotion of any kind.  Football can make a man slap another man’s ass or punch that man in the face, all in the same hour.

The league I pay most attention to is my Spicewood neighborhood league, simply because I had to pay to get in it and there’s a good amount of cash to split up for the winners.   What bothers me about this league is that I was in Chicago when the live auction draft took place, so I trusted my husband to handle my draft.  That’s really unfair to us both, because he had to pick his own team and try to make a balanced team for me lest I think he drafted my shit team on purpose and set himself up for a quickie divorce.

Needless to say, my freaking team sucks.  I’m about to be 3-7 (meaning I’ve won three and LOST seven games) and I don’t handle loss well.  I made it into the playoffs last year and my loss there was a fluke and the year  before that ended up in second place, so I have A LOT of rage building slowly inside me.

This week, I half assed my fantasy time.  I basically went into my leagues, rearranged my players and was done with it.  I’ve been so busy with work and travel, I just didn’t have it in me to put forth much effort.  THAT is why all of you who are learning this game need to give it your all if you have even the slightest competitive nature, as I do.  Losing hurts.

Take a look at my neighborhood match up for this week (Yes, I’m Team Scorgasm and I played Skid Marks.  My avatar is a picture of Dr. Ruth and his is of dirty undies.)-

….and here is who’s sitting on the bench and the points they WOULD HAVE GIVEN ME HAD I JUST EFFING PLAYED THEM.

SON OF A BITCH!  WHAT THE FUCK!  YOU FUCKING FUCK!  SHIT!!!!!!!!!

Okay, so.  What you can see here is that I am a mental midget and paid absolutely no attention to what’s most important in life – winning.  I decided to bench Stewart this week because he just hasn’t been putting them up for me and he decides to whip 23 points out of his ass and slap me across the face with it.

I have sixty points sitting on that bench.  Granted, Doug would have beat me anyway since (catch a beat runnin’ like) Randy Moss pulled in 36 points, but at least it wouldn’t have been so HUMILIATING.

So how do I handle the pain and turmoil of loss without getting arrested?   Yeah….I’m still trying to figure that out.  I’ve started with some kicking and screaming.  I’ve since moved on to throwing a flaming bag of dog poo at Doug’s front door (remember – it’s a neighborhood league) and crying.  Nothing’s working.  I thought I had the crying thing locked down since I was the only girl on the team, but it turns out men can be even bigger pussy’s than we are, so there goes THAT idea.

I don’t know.  I don’t know what to tell you.  How do you cope with loss?  Being a loyal football fan is like being married. For better or worse, til death do you part. It’s also a bitch, but you vowed to stick with it. Unfortunately, if you try to divorce yourself from it, you don’t get half the money…