Super Sunday

Yes, I was supposed to be on American Airlines #801 to LAX in ten minutes. But I’m not. I’m home, two beers in, watching the Superbowl. And I’m blogging in real time.

5:25 PM – I pick up a six of Brooklyn Lager, a bag of Sun Chips, a frozen Mama Celeste and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough Ice Cream. Super, indeed. But what I really want is wings.

5:43 PM – The Fox / Radio Shack Pre-Show is themed, “Building A Bridge.” It’s really bad. “Trading Spaces” is much better. They’re running some kind of “best of.” It occurs to me that under that whole soccer mom haircut and wardrobe, Paige What’s-Her-Face is pretty hot.

6:02 PM – Who’s the “two-time Grammy nominated” country singer chick and why is her audio so bad?

6:17 PM – Alicia Keys is so lip synching. And all those deaf and blind kids are really bummin’ me out. Not ‘cuz i don’t think they’re cool, or probably psyched to be there, but because they look like they were trotted out like show ponies. And singing with dead Ray on the Jumbotron? Shameful. The clincher? The outro that reminds us that dead Ray has two albums out. (At least they didn’t say, “Visit for more.”)

6:24 PM – This whole “Greatest Generation” thing is a bit much. Voiced by Michael Douglas? Oy, only one guy from Iwo Jima. Bummer. Those Tuskegee Airmen look pretty cool though.

6:28 PM – Ok, the nausiating, gung-ho nature of the pre-show notwithstanding, the Army/Navy/Air Force choirs do about the best job I’ve ever heard with “The Star Spangled Banner.” Those are some wack harmonies. Beautiful.

6:55 PM – Burt Reynolds for FedEx! Aaaaah!

7:13 PM – When that Harrison dude intercepted McNabb’s pass then was hammered by that Eagle? I actually made a sound a loud like, “Ooof!” My dad makes the same sounds when he watches sports.

7:17 PM – Did I mention that the last football game I watched, strike that, the last sporting event I watched, was last year’s Superbowl? I got called into work before it was over.

7:26 PM – The Tom Brady Grandmother Story: Truth? Or PR spin?

7:31 PM – I lived in just outside Philadelphia from the time I was eleven ’til I was almost 18-years-old. The Eagles always sucked. So I’m pulling for them. (In case you were wondering.)

7:32 PM – Touchdown Eagles! I think I’ll order my wings now.

7:42 PM – Superbowl: Not-so-super when you’re watching it alone.

7:45 PM – Prediction: I will finish the six pack.

7:51 PM – I’m a strong advocate of any programming or advertising featuring monkeys.

7:59 PM – Blondie’s says deliver will take two hours. I say no thanks. Firehouse doesn’t say, so I say two dozen wings please. Can’t wait. I bet it takes an hour.

8:05 PM – Man, this sport is laaaaaame.

8:15 PM – Ads so far? Suckin’. I’m gonna’ say it’s Burt Reynolds and the monkeys at the half.

8:19 PM – Ok, you know I’m a sucker for “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow.” So the NFL Network’s ad with all the players from teams who aren’t in tonight’s game is now in the lead for best ad.

8:20 PM – Finally, my area of expertise: the musical half time. McCartney? Playing to track. What would John say? And where’s Ringo? The medly: “Drive My Car,” “Get Back” (He’s taking off his jacket! Close call.), “Live And Let Die” (Fireworks! Pyro!), “Hey Jude” (complete with faux-lighters). The red, white and blue cards in the audience are just a little bit too much. I think I just puked in my mouth. Well, at least there were no wardrobe malfunctions. Thanks Paul! Thanks Ameriquest! The airwaves are safe again.

8:42 PM – The pizza? Burned it. Hope those wings come soon.

8:48 PM – Uh oh, Pats score.

8:53 PM – I’m not anti-American, really. I mean, Wall Mart, strip malls, and freeways notwithstanding, I think it’s a pretty neat place, if not literally, at least conceptually. But man oh man, that Anheiser Bush ad where an airport erupts in spontaneous applause when all these soldiers walk through baggae claim. Puke. I dig soldiers. I mean, they have nothing to do with the politics of, say, Iraq. But shame on Anheiser Bush for milkin’ the shit for ad sales.

9:04 PM – First erectile disfunction ad.

9:05 PM – Wings are here!

9:11 PM – The computer sound Fox is using every time they update stats? Really annoying. The wings? Fuckin’ outstanding.

9:14 PM – Eagles score! Once again, I make some cheering noise which kind of startles me. I call my best friend Sibby in Albuquerque and leave a babbling, incoherent-but-enthusiastic message.

9:31 PM – Uh oh, hiccups. And the Patriots scored again. 21-14.

9:47 PM – Patriots intercept. I change the channel to TLC “Town Haul.”

9:55 PM – Three minutes remaining and the Eagles need to score 10 points. Now, I don’t watch football but once a year, but this doesn’t look so good. Which is too bad. Philly’s a pretty beat up town. Yeah, we had “Rocky” and Mike Schmidt, and we still have cheese steaks and Wawa hoagies, but to be honest, that’s about it. Sorry, but Philly’s not much of a town. As far as the eastern seaboard goes, I’d take New York, (duh), Boston, and DC prior to Philly. Anyway. Bummer.

10:03 PM – I just made the most absurd noise ever when the Eagles completed that touchdown pass. How pretty was that pass? I went, “Bahahaaaaa!” and jammed my right fist into the air. What the hell’s happening to me?

10:15 PM – Eeeeeeh. I’m layin’ low in my big red chair tugging on the last few ounces of my sixth Brooklyn Lager when the Patriots intercepts. Game over. Gotta’ pack. I have a car coming in six and a half hours. G’night, and Godspeed.

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