I finally feel a little liberated. I honestly never gave a shit about football, but like many of us, I trudged out to some kind of Superbowl party every year, to watch two teams I did not care nor know anything about battle it out.
I used to say it was for the commercials, but I only buy experiences and not stuff now (at least, as much as possible – I still have to clothe myself, wash dishes, that sort of thing), so I don’t really give a fuck. Functional or experiential, not collectible.
Most commercials are shit anyway, trying way too hard. Wazzup wasn’t that funny.
Plus, the orange menace was going to be there, because, of course, he fucking was, and the less I see of that absolute piece of garbage, the better.
The half-time show is occasionally interesting, but I lost interest after they forced the Red Hot Chili Peppers to lip sync. I have seen anyone I actually cared to see since Tom Petty.
(Scratch that, the year with Eminem was pretty good).
So, yeah, I did what’s now become our new tradition and a much more enjoyable one – the Puppy Bowl followed by a movie.
A glass of wine.
Maybe a shot of cream liqueur, because we fancy.
Or some shit.
Anyway, enjoy your sport named after another sport that doesn’t have anything to do with the original sport and has very little to do with feet connecting with balls, making it aptly misnamed.
America. You’re so predictably boring, and your favourite sport?
It’s tedious as all get-out.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 108 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: The Personal MBA, Josh Kaufman
Comics: Images Of Shadowhawk 2-3, Shadowhawk v3 1-2
Music: In Between Evolution, The Tragically Hip (feels like where we are now, on the cusp of an evolutionary leap, or complete destruction.)