I was up until 1:30 am this morning refining what it means to be a masochist, so I got nothing new for you today. Instead, let's hit the rewind button and go back two years to the day on Utter Wonder. It harks back to a time when there were no pictures and I was but a young and innocent blogger. Ah yes, fabricated sentimentality: there's nothing like it!

My Cat's Pro Football Picks For This Weekend (10/18/2002)

Chicago +3 at Detroit
Let me in. I'm scratching at the door because I want to come inside. It's raining. You're letting me get wet. I'm too pretty to be wet. Let me in. I know you can hear me. I'm trying not to take this personally. My tail is getting poofy with water. The Bears are slumping big time, and I like that Joey Harrington, so I have to go with my brethren: Lions 27, Bears 24. Let me in or I will throw up on the welcome mat.

At Miami +4 Buffalo
Now feed me. I know there's food in my bowl already. It's old. What do you take me for, a stray? I have standards. This food has sat in my bowl since the morning. I won't eat it. Dolphins are banged up, but Buffalo has a knack for losing in Miami. Phins 23, Bills 16.

At Oakland +7 San Diego
I don't want the baby looking at me while I eat. Pick him up and stick him in the backyard. His mere presence mocks me. You get me fixed, and then you go ahead and procreate. Way to go, Hippy Hypocrite. Great life I got here: I can't throw a legitimate hump and I have a small monster lunging at my tail 24/7. Bastard. Raiders will rebound from last week's debacle in St. Louis. Oakland 37, San Diego 24.

At Cleveland +9 Houston
Stroke me, bitch. I'm here to adore. Adore me. I understand I'm wet. How about a towel?--HELLLOOOO?!? Scratch my back. Pull my tail a little. Not too rough. That's right. Nice. What's my name? Say it, whore. Say it! Browns have been snake bitten too many times already this year. Take them plus the points: Browns 32, Texans 13. Now bring a finger under my chin. Work it, Daddy, work it.

At Pittsburgh +5 Indianapolis
I'm hungry again. I know I just ate, but I mistook the can of artichoke hearts you just opened for tuna. It's instinctual: I hear a can open, I get hungry. You can't change biology. It's the way I am, came with the package. I want tuna. Make sure to squeeze the juice in my bowl first. Pittsburgh is a tough nut to crack. All that talent, but lame results. Indy covers, but Pitt wins: Steelers 20, Colts 17. What's this, oil packed? Pla-ease. You know better than that. Try again. Solid white, in water. I don't care if it's dolphin safe or not. Hurry it up, I have to go outside and come back in seven more times tonight.

This post is dedicated to Big Papi.