Ri-Gronk-Ulous

 

Here's a familiar sight: Gronk à la carte. At this point he should have to chip in on gas.

Here’s a familiar sight: Gronk à la carte. At this point he should have to chip in for gas.

 

Unsurprisingly, the world did not cease to spin and remained firmly on its axis after the yawn-inducing announcement that frighteningly fragile and injury-prone lummox Rob Gronkowski’s return from his latest catastrophic injury is not going according to schedule, and shmuck-o may have to miss even more time than expeceted.  Reportedly, the recovery process was going swimmingly until he stubbed his vagina, and it’s been an uphill battle ever since.

This dude’s bones must be made of fine china.  If you look at him wrong he could break something.  He could get injured during the pre-game.

A mentally derranged friend of mine is nauseatingly a Cowgirls fan, but he also happens to be doing HVAC work on Gronk’s house.  According to him, the lunkhead is still doing his best Fabergé egg impression and was hobbling around on crutches as late as a few weeks ago.  And what’s the odds on this big galoot busting his ass bone or some other such major injury to take him out of next season?  A zillion percent?

And don’t let the idea that Gron-owski’s just incredibly unlucky or that he can overcome the injury bug that bites him on the balls every year fool you.  This dude is like Sam Bowie with a helmet.

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