Things were going well...

I watched my younger nephew shine as a wise man in his nursery school's Christmas pageant. I took some time off from work and spent a few lovely days with the Captain. We enjoyed the first real snow of the year, which we braved only to hit the diner. We did a whole lot of nothing outside of build a fire, watch crap television and enjoy each other's company. I sent the first saucy Christmas-themed e-mail to myself ("Give Your Girl Christmas Fever"). I found some old friends on Facebook. I had a terrific wine-filled lunch with Mary Ellen (and really, don't cocktails in the mid-afternoon taste just a little better?). I spent some quality shopping time with my brother and made a huge dent in the gift wrapping. I baked some cookies, did all the laundry, finished the Christmas cards and was overall pretty damned pleased with myself.

And then, the game started and it all went to shit...















Pretty weather. But one of the ugliest games I've ever seen.















Originally, I planned to head down the shore to watch the game with the Captain and his friends. But I needed to accomplish a bevy of holiday-related tasks today, so I stayed home. And thank goodness I did, for otherwise his friends would think I am an absolute crazy person. My behavior during the game was not great. And the post-game pouting was definitely unbecoming (and, quite frankly, has yet to end, almost five hours later).

A few of the e-mails and text messages I sent following the conclusion of the game:

-I may never watch football again.
-Fuckers. Fucking Jets. Fuckity fuck fuck.
-As someone who threw my jersey across the room, I understand and support that move (in response to a text from The Captain, who reported one of his friends had cut up his Jets sweatshirt and tacked it to the dartboard in the bar).
-A huge assumption. I'd fire him on the plane on the way back home. Dumb dickhead (in response to a comment about Mangini's future and whether he'll hold practices on the West coast next year).
-I haven't been this cranky in a VERY long time. It has been an afternoon of tantrums at Casa Magnolia.
-Perhaps the only good thing to come from today's fucking shitfest debacle is that it's less likely they'll flex next week's tilt to the night game.

Shortly after the game ended, I sent the following e-mail to the Professor: As Jets fans, would we rather they lose to Miami next week, thus allowing the Dolphins to make the playoffs? Or do we root for the win, which would likely mean another trip to the playoffs for the Patriots and their douchbag coach?

It's like a Sophie's Choice for Jet fans. And I don't have an answer.