In bed with SportsCenter

Ooh, baby. Come on over a little closer, honey. I see you’ve dressed up in that sexy HD dress tonight. Yeah, you know how I like it. Your sultry Top Ten lists, smokin’ Sunday Conversations, and sexy Linda Cohn. I can watch your sports all night long. Oh, I see you brought some of your hot friends—nice to meet you, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, ESPNU, ESPN Radio, ESPN.com. Looks like Ménage à six is in order tonight, ladies.

You know just what to say, too. You always do. For all of these years we’ve known each other, you’ve always known when to whisper those sweet nothings into my ear, and when to scream out loud in ecstasy. I look back on all the good times we’ve had—all those times I’ve watched you intently with my pants around my ankles—and I think about all those things you’ve said to me while we laid together in bed. Remember our first night:

Raging M: "Baby, this has been a great night. I’ve never met anyone like you before. How do you see things so far?”

ESPN:

RM: "Really? Wow, that’s great! I didn’t really know what to expect or how far it might go…”

ESPN:

RM: “Are you serious!?! Er… I mean, cool, baby. But don’t you want to slow down a bit? Maybe go into my place for a while and have a drink?

ESPN:

RM: “Alright…Frecky, is it? Is that some sort of nickname? Nevermind, come on inside.

Five Minutes Later:

RM: “I don’t really know how to say this, and please don’t be offended, but I’ve never been with a major television corporation before…”

ESPN:

RM: “Good, good. But, you see, between the nerves of our first date and the many strawberry daiquiris, I’m having a little trouble, you know…”

ESPN:

RM: “Sweetheart, no offense, but I don’t think you can just talk it into working for you.”

ESPN:

RM: “Holy crap! It worked! Are you a miracle worker?”

ESPN:

RM: “AMEN! Alright, now that we’re in business, what did you have in mind?”

ESPN:

RM: “Just like that? No foreplay? No nothing?”

ESPN:

**Censored for the children**

RM: “You are a phenomenal network—it’s like you’ve known me forever.”

ESPN:

RM: “Well, that’s uncalled for! Look, I may not be the biggest guy in the world, but it’s nothing to make fun of.”

ESPN:

RM: “No, baby, I’ve got plenty more left, I promise. Don’t go just yet. I’ll do whatever you want.”

ESPN:

RM: “Alright, now we’re in business.”

ESPN:

RM: “Oh, you like to talk dirty. I like that about you.”

ESPN:

RM: “Yeah, alright, lemme try something else.”

ESPN:

RM: “Oh, ok, too much for you to handle, I see. How about this, you naughty conglomerate, you.”

ESPN:

RM: “Oh, wow, you sure like it that way, dontcha?”

ESPN:

RM: “Oh, yeah!”

ESPN:

RM: “Oh, ESPN!”

ESPN:

RM: “THIS IS THE BEST…EV-ER!”

ESPN:

The following section was deleted for the purposes of our reader’s well-being. No one should ever have to think of any writer from The Angry T in this manner.

We now return you to our dashing couple:

RM: (Attempting to regain his breath) “ESPN, I am so glad I met you. That was wonderful.”

ESPN:

RM: “You’re not kidding. I hope it was good for you…?”

ESPN:

RM: “Really? Sweet! I just beat my personal best by 26 seconds! Will you marry me, ESPN?”

And we lived happily ever after.

Raging M

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