Sports hold a very special place for me, both because I rely on the success my teams for a little happiness in my life, and because whenever I blog about them my mother worries a little less that all my readers think I’m gay.And there’s nothing more hetero than a guy who usually goes to bed at 3 a.m., getting up at 6:30 a.m. so so he can take an early acting class. And thereby clear the evening to watch Monday Night Football, which I did, yesterday.
It’s tradition for my friends and I, whenever the Jets are playing on Monday night, to watch the game at a shack of a joint literally called The Shack, in Playa del Rey. Where the highlight of the night, far beyond the game, is my big brother’s appetite.
He’ll put away two-to-three Shack Burgers – featuring a quarter pound of beef topped by a split Louisiana hot link. And he'll still have room for a basket of onion rings and dessert.
Christmas is around the corner. I wonder if the SkyMall catalog features stomach pumps.
