“Look, we all know you’re bald. There’s no use in wearing that hat.”
“I bet this is gonna look great in slow motion.”
“I love you Steven Jackson doppleganger!”
“You better not catch that. It’ll throw off our dance.”
“I’d rather be in the hospital with MRSA.”
“Crap, I called the wrong finger.”
“Whatever happened to that Tebow guy?”
“Watch out everybody, Chipotle farts.”
“And back into the foggy irrelevance for us.”
“Come on, do your black guy impersonation one more time.”
“Get over here and kiss me you big lug.”
“Sorry Bill, there just isn’t anything we can do to stop him from fist-pumping.”
“If I buy six more hoodies, I only need to do laundry once a week.”
“I’m not even going to tell you where my Tom Brady tattoo is. Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s on my penis.”
“That Jason Garrett would make a mighty fine third quarterback…”
“Please please, hold your applause. I’m about to throw another interception.”
“BLURRED LINES!”
“Don’t worry guys, Rex Grossman is right over there and says he’s ready to go.”
“Why did we even bother cutting eye holes?”
“I either need glasses or larger tattoo font. This is getting ridiculous.”
“Good Lord, it’s beautiful.”
“This added crotch access is a game-changer.”
“So you’re saying throwing it to myself isn’t an option?”
“You know I can’t literally rub off on you, right?”
“You saw what Schaub was doing? Do the opposite of that.”
“Beer here!”
“Sure, the more Super Bowl wins, the more alert you are.”
“There’s something vaguely familiar about this place…”
“Damnit, I keep forgetting those blue jerseys aren’t my teammates any more.”
“This hurts more than Peyton leaving.”
Breakfast Of Chumpions 