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super-bowl-sandwichIt is only 21 January and I am already tired of The Super Bowl. Last weekend while I was in the loo at our favorite bar I saw a poster advertisement for a 2PM Super Bowl party,  scheduled for 3 February. [1] I learned then what date was the game  (I thought it was always the last Sunday in January). Last night Facebook exploded in the fury of an orchestra of scorched cats mostly making reference to some recent football game upset that established which teams will be participate. [2]  One of my podcasts is talking about the history of chicken wings and how they came to be the proper food for Super Bowl Sunday.

Oh the pain.

As you see I’d sooner eat rats at Tewkesbury than watch The Super Bowl. This is mostly out of boredom about football, thrown in with some inability to sit still. Someone and I are doing fairly well on our diets so neither one of us wants to consume the countless calories seemingly required to properly attend the American mysteries.

Perhaps I would be more ‘into it’  if I attended a party. Super Bowl is sort of like Thanksgiving that

a) you are expected to be with others

b) allowed to consume huge amount of high-caloric foods without feeling guilty about it.

In my life I’ve been to a few Super Bowl parties and they are all boring. People tended to put on the gam and proceeded not really to watch until the commercials came on. [3]

I will probably spend Super Bowl Sunday as I usually spend my Sundays quiet at home sans television sans chicken wings sans beer sans everything. I will feel good about the calories not consumed. After all Palm Springs is coming and I want to look my best. That’s the real Super Bowl for Urs Truly.

 

super-bowl-food-cropped.jpg

Oh the pain.

[1] The advertisement promised (in this order): drinks; food; fun; football. The game looks to be almost an afterthought.

[2] I don’t recall now which two; I wasn’t pay that much attention.

[3] I should point out the parties I’ve attended were all hosted and attended by thems light in the loafers. The food was fabulous but no one gave a damn about the game. I hear tell in the straight-arrow versions of such parties men actually watch the game. Can you imagine?

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