Prayers For Tommy

On this day of worship Tom Brady’s wife wants us to pray for her husband. Forget your ailing relative, unemployed friend or the homeless guy sleeping on a bench. Tommy needs a trophy.

My prayer: Dear God, please let Giselle develop a thyroid condition and become morbidly obese. Let her wake up one morning with her nipples pointing toward her toes. May she one day have to clean a toilet with her bare hands, wash dishes and do laundry. Then, have to take a bus to work. Amen.

I will be watching the Superbowl tonight. I wasn’t invited to a party and probably wouldn’t have gone anyway. I would like watch the kickoff lounging in my living room, my hair in a ponytail and sweatpants hugging my curves. Of course they are modern sweatpants. I wouldn’t be caught dead with elastic at the ankles. I do have some sense of style. During the game, I will probably be having tea parties, playing with Batman and changing diapers. We will feast on pizza and fried food. (which is called Friday in our house)

I know some women don’t like football. I actually enjoy the game. I did not, however, enjoy last night’s award show for NFL players. After I heard one professional athlete thank “the man upstairs” for helping him catch a football I turned the channel. I can only imagine what the categories were. Best Sack? Longest Run? Hair with the least amount of dandruff? I know there wasn’t an award for most creative end zone celebration. You can body slam a man, cause a concussion and broken bones, but don’t you dare do the Macarena in the end zone. I have never understood the flag for “excessive celebration.” Did the mother of a defensive tackle email the NFL commissioner? “It hurts my son’s feelings when the other team scores and dances. It is rude and his therapist says it’s really damaging his self esteem.” I lecture my eldest when he torments my younger son for losing. However, my child is in pre-school. You would think a football player who makes millions of dollars would have developed proper coping skills by now. If a running back wants to stick out his tongue, choreograph a dance or spike a ball so be it. Just don’t point up to the sky. God has more important work than to help you or Tommy.

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