The Hosts: Eric Wynalda and Heather Mitts, welcome to your birthday party. Now, Heather you are only 32 years old today, but Eric is 41, so let’s make sure we let him open his presents first because he has less time to live. I kid, Wynnie, relax and enjoy the party. No, Jim Rome was not invited, stop worrying. Let’s just all have a good time here at our local Hooters as we (1) devour wings, (2) dissect orange hot pants, and (3) honor you two for your soccer feats.
The Toasts: OK, it will be easy for me to sing the praises of the US MNT’s second all-time leading scorer (107 caps, 34 goals), my good friend Mr. Eric Wynalda right here. You also were selected for three World Cups, which is a testament to your importance to our Nats. As for you Ms. Mitts, you have also crossed the century mark in caps for your Nats and (unlike you Eric) have had two Olympic Gold Medals draped around your neck. You are a damn fine player.
The Roasts: Heather, it is hard to roast you. This is likely because you are so ridiculously hot that you toast everything within a five foot circumference of you both on the pitch and off it (seriously, Google her SI Swimsuit layout if you dare disagree). As for you Wynalda, I bet you know there are one million different things I could roast you with. You have certainly had much of your dirty laundry aired publicly already though, so I won’t pile on.
I kid guys. You know I love you for being two of the superstars in the US Soccer galaxy (which doesn’t have as many stars as most galaxies). Happy birthday Heather and Eric. May your next year bring very special blessings.
And, waitress, may your next five minutes bring my check and your phone number.
Oh, I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean no harm.
No, listen sir, I was just joking. I wasn’t hitting on her. Listen sir…
I didn’t know you were her boyfriend. Seriously, it’s not my fault.
Wynalda put me up to it.