Cat scratch fever

Oh, those Philly fanatics. After the Panthers whupped up on the Eagles to win the NFC championship 14-3 I called both my father (four times) and my uncle to gloat a little.

Well, my uncle dismissed me with a “… well, gotta go (click)” and my dad had his phone off the hook until well past midnight when I climbed into bed.

I’m sure I’ll hear about the late hit on Donovan McNabb and the poor officiating some other time when they’ve calmed down enough to form coherent sentences that aren’t laced with invective.

When they do, I’ll be glad to fill them in on a few highlights from our raucous celebration at Lex’s house:

  • My wife calling two of McNabb’s three interceptions before they happened (She also called the game-winning pick by Ricky Manning Jr. in last week’s game).
  • My 2-year-old yelling “Go Panthers” while shaking a UNC pompon.
  • DeShaun Foster’s heroic 1-yard TD run.
  • My wife, with arms raised, thrusting her pelvis back and forth in celebratory spelendor.
  • Hey Panthers fans! We’re going to the Super Bowl!

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