I’m Giving Up Jerking Off Until The Eagles Demote Howie Roseman

A few days ago, the Philadelphia Eagles hired Nick Sirianni. We got Andy Reid’s right hand man’s right hand man’s right hand man. The guy was a stud under Frank Reich, and he LOVES going for it on 4th down (sound familiar?). Now, an offensive-minded guinea at Lincoln Financial bodes well with me; the only issue is that WEASELY FUCK Howie Roseman is still in the puppet master of this football team. The same Howie Roseman that airballed on Jalen Reagor has selected one Pro Bowler in the past 5 years and has been more toxic to Carson Wentz than I have with any of my ex-girlfriends.

Howie is like the 24-year-old Cuban girl that starts nailing your Grandad with Alzheimer’s. I’m 99% positive he is qb sneaking Jeffrey Lurie constantly because there’s no way in hell this guy should still have his job. I could spin around in a Wawa parking lot with a blindfold on and select a better receiver than JJ Arcega-Whiteside whom he selected in the second fucking round. As of right now, Howie Roseman is enemy number one for Eagles nation, and somebody has to do something about it.

This is where I’m willing to put my life on the line. I’m going to quit jerking off until Howie Roseman is demoted.

If any of you have been reading my stuff for a while, you know how big of a sacrifice this is for me, or any guy for that matter… but especially me. We are talking about something I’ve done at minimum three times a week for the past eight years. It’s gotten me through four breakups, four schools, and out of hooking up with way too many threes. Waking up with a hangover on Sundays is unbearable without cumming, but I’m willing to do it for my boys in green.

How will you make sure that I’m not lying about this? Well, I will have everybody in my life hold me accountable, and I’m going to make sure that the only time I’m allowed alone for more than one minute is for bathing and shitting. My showers will be limited to four-minute sessions (not enough time to jerk off with the semantics of me trying to keep my phone dry), and I will be notifying my brother and my roommates when I go to the bathroom. They will be periodically knocking every minute and a half or so. This way, the anxiety will offset any shot at maintaining an erection. This means my only time to myself will be during my gym shits, and I don’t even think Bill Clinton could find a way to cum in Planet Fitness.

I will do this for 30 days and document my experience every week or so. I’m not looking forward to having wet dreams, but I’m assuming that will be par of the course. It’s been twenty-four hours since I last jerked off, and I’m already growing enraged and impatient with Jeff Lurie. It’s time to get Howie the fuck out of Philadelphia.

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