So this is how it feels to lose the Super Bowl. Well, it sucks.
Disbelief sets in.
Yeah, we get closer every year. But this should have been our year. What happened? I don't know, but I'll tell you what didn't happen: Donovan. Did he choke? Was it nerves? Did one of the four sacks scramble his eggs? Ugh. It was one of his ugliest games all year. Where was my running quarterback? My main man? The dude who can evade the defense for 14.1 seconds? How could he let me down like that?
I would have rather lost by 28 points.
I was all ready for that game tying field goal from David Akers to send it into overtime. I didn't see it. Did you?
I mean, the Dolphins beat the Pats, for cripes' sake! Why couldn't we? (No offense, Ben.)
So I am sitting here, drinking the coffee Ben made for me. I am using my Eagles coffee mug. I am sick. (No, not hungover sick, Jazzy. Just sick.) I woke up this morning to discover that it wasn't a nightmare. It was really Monday and we had really lost the game. It's like a black cloud hanging over my head. And, more bad news, we're out of vodka.
What am I supposed to be doing today? I don't know. And I don't care. I am officially in mourning. Someone call my boss and tell her I won't be in today.
Hey, at least the halftime show was good.