As many of you are well aware, I applied to win Sarah Spain's extra Super Bowl ticket. Last night I found out that she had selected another candidate, Alan Shahtaji, for his die-hard fan-dom and genital warts. What follows is Part 1 of my exposé, "Sarah Spain Is a Gigantic Tease."

First of all, it's important to note that your incredibly hunky editor doubles as quite the Internet sleuth: it was here at With Leather where the mysterious sexy Bears fan selling herself on eBay was revealed to be Sarah Spain. Some other blog might have posted about her eBay adventure first, but it was Mr. SexyPants here that connected the dots. That's the extra mile I go for my readers. I even wrote an unnecessary follow-up as an excuse to share her spectacular cleavage with the world; subsequently, Axe body spray bailed her out of the eBay rigamarole and gave her tickets.

Oh, sure, other news outlets addressed her story, and might have had some influence on her ascendancy to the blogosphere spotlight, but did LAist try to win her ticket to Super Bowl XLI? Methinks not, because they hate their readers.

Anyway, if you're so inclined to get the full details of this adventure (which will be posted throughout the day), read my application to be Sarah Spain's dream date after the jump. Feel free to marvel at how I actually tone down the "With Leather voice."


Subject: All the other guys have STDs. Seriously. 

Dear Sarah,

Congratulations on your well-deserved prize of Super Bowl tickets. Since your surge in publicity began, I couldn't help but embark on a bit of a thought experiment: Would you have gotten those tickets without the attention of the sexy sports blogger over at With Leather? Until time travel is perfected, it's impossible to know for sure; however, for the sake of argument, I'm going to say no. No, you definitely would not be going to the Super Bowl without my fawning attention. Oh, don't thank me now. It would mean so much more to me in person, in Miami, with a Super Bowl ticket in my hand. And if you wanted to give me a long, long hug to rub the point home, I'm sure I could appreciate that on several different levels as well.

But I've gotten ahead of myself. I don't want to appear cocky; I come to you confident but supplicating. Proud but praying. Handsome and strong-jawed and decorated for valor in combat with the Marines, but warm-hearted and sensitive. Therefore I've put together a list of things about me so that, whether or not you make the ghastly error of choosing someone else to accompany you and your lovely friends to the Super Bowl, we can at least embark on an Internet friendship consisting of witty banter and sly double entendres. And I'm even beginning it with two reasons why you might want to pick another guy — just to make it fair for the outclassed competition.

  • Although I'll be cheering for the Bears on Sunday, I'm not a Bears fan per se. I'm from Washington state originally, and thus an angst-filled Seahawks fan (the 'Hawks look better if their playoff ousters are the eventual NFL champs). Do you realize that last year's Super Bowl was more traumatic for me than the two months I spent in and around Baghdad living on a tank? I'm telling you, it was. And going to Miami to watch the big game could do a lot to heal those wounds. You know, people always say "Support the Troops," but do they ever give them their extra Super Bowl ticket? It's the patriotic thing to do.
  • Full disclosure: I'm 5'10". But I'm several inches smarter than most men.
  • I know your neighborhood well, and I'm not talking about parking across the street from your parents' house with a pair of binoculars during the holidays (although… note to self…). You see, I graduated from Northwestern. I used to skip my afternoon classes in the spring to go to Cubs games. I've closed down the Mark II Lounge on countless nights because I foolishly went to college in the same town where the temperance movement was founded. Fucking Frances Willard. If I hadn't joined the Marine Corps out of college, I'd probably be one of those Northwestern Northsiders living in Lincoln Park and working for Accenture — which, you have to admit, would be pretty boring. Unless I fought crime on the side. Which I would totally do.
  • Sometimes when I'm getting dressed, if I'm running late, I'll use my penis as a belt.
  • I founded a non-profit organization called Kitten Rescue. It's a bit of a misnomer, though. We also save puppies.
  • I don't miss Chicago all that much, especially in January. But I miss Goose Island beer. And I really miss the Stilton burger at their brewery. Good Christ that thing's delicious.
  • Although I'm not as tall or as fast or as rich or as famous as Brian Urlacher, I do have excellent hair. And my tattoos are far, far cooler than the barbed wire on his bicep. And I've never slept with Paris Hilton. And I don't have any illegitimate children. (Or any children, for that matter. Not that you should make any assumptions about my virility from that.) So basically, I'm a better catch than Urlacher. Oh, and I'm literate. Forgot to mention that one.
  • If nothing else, I'm responsible for the creation of this video.

I guess that's about it. In all honesty — I'm using every ounce of marrow-deep sincerity I have here — congratulations on achieving your dream of getting to go to a Bears Super Bowl. I hope I get to be a part of it.

All the best,
Matt

p.s. I guess I should mention that two of those bullet points aren't exactly true. Specifically, I'm a huge Bears fan and I'm actually 6'4". Wait, no. I meant the penis-belt and Kitten Rescue things. Those are made up. Dammit.

p.p.s. More pictures of me and my incredible hair — and my chicken suit! — are available at my MySpace page.

Stay tuned for Part 2, in which Sarah blatantly tries to become Kissing Suzy Kolber's Yoko Ono.