Beer and football VI: You know, he shaves his eyebrows

Week one
The game: Steelers at Patriots
The beer: Samuel Adams Brick Red Ale
The result: Win, 28–21; Dolphins win, 17–10
The commentary: Where were you when Tom Brady's suspension was overturned? I was working from home so diligently that four hours went by before I broke for a late lunch and skimmed headlines on my phone. Oh, Roger. Already with the appeal. That was the best goddamn peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich I've ever had.

Thursday evening was spent at the Beantown Pub, where so many nights have turned ugly over the years. This was no different as I slept through my train station after midnight. Oops! We got out of work early to participate in some Amazing Race action—for the second straight year—and got soaked in the rain—for the second straight year. This time I remembered an extra pair of socks. Normally I would have ditched early to be able to concentrate on the game at home but I thought it would be cool to watch in a bar for the first time since the Misfits invaded New Hampshire. The outcome was much better this time, even if I had to leave before it was over and didn't actually catch up (all the way through again, since much of the pub time was spent asking if I was stripes or solids) until Sunday. What is there to say? Brady, Gronk, Edelman, Dion Lewis, even Amendola. Throw LaFell back in there in a few weeks and we're scoring thirty-five a game. But the defense? The defense! We might give up thirty-two. I'll leave the complaining for another week as this is one of celebration.

Celebration, yes, for the Dolphins defeated the Redskins in inglorious fashion. What is this, December? You're supposed to own September, fishies! It was a risk to rely on them in mark three of the knockout pool and I'm glad to never again be tempted. Twenty-five of us are competing this year and six others went along with me so I hope my practice of picking against losers doesn't catch on. Fucking Bruno, though. Bruno! He got knocked out last year in week one by trusting the Buccaneers and then ran some numbers, swallowed a shitload of pills and picked them again this year. Knocked out! This was my competition over the final four weeks? Good lord, you know he's going to buy back and take Cleveland or something this weekend. And probably skate by. Anyway, the no-brainer pick last week was the Packers over the Bears and three morons decided to blow those loads. Congratulations, you'll have to pick the Dolphins at some point if you go anywhere. Two more lost on the Seahawks and probably haven't bought back so we're down to me and twenty-two other stiffs. It's painful that four people should have gone out on the Cowboys—I will never, ever choose that team. At least two more are probably out after Chief–Broncos the other night. It feels like one of those games where people would have taken either team (rumors of Peyton's death may be exaggerated), but I can't know for sure because our administrator won't email with everyone's picks until after the weekend. That's a little shady, right?

In other household news (because the above action is riding on twenty of our household's units), G. has begun her second year of preschool. It's a new school in our new town and she has new (pink, stuffed) doggie Pickles to keep her company. "I'm nervous," she told me as we left the house. I was a shy kid too. Still, she put on a brave face and danced around the driveway like there were more ponies in the yard. It gets easier, baby.

Up next: Welcome to Super Bowl 50 in beautiful Orchard Park, New York. Cheers!