Super Bowel

Yet again, I engaged in the cultural event known as the Super Bowl. Nine of us went to the bar Eric tends to watch the game. In all honesty, I went to support Eric more than either team, even though if I had favorite football teams when I was younger, it would be the Patriots and the Giants, which just goes to show how detached I am from sports. I chose to support the Giants, though, since the Patriots have won several times recently and they used the poor city of Hartford as a bargaining tool to get what they wanted from the state commonwealth of Massachusetts.

At the bar, we were in the same room as us were two notable regulars: a pervert and a murderer.

An old man with a Santa Claus beard had offered a server $500 if she'd let him go down on her. It's gross, creepy, but as Eric put it, also "a little bit admirable." Most seedy guys would want to be pleasured, not offer up such a treat. You know, if "treat" and "sexual harassment" are synonymous.

I'm going to be cautious with my description of the murderer, since the victim was a blogger who apparently badmouthed the killer online then "mysteriously" wound up poisoned. Still, it added some intrigue to have to watch your drink closely.

Even though the commercials sucked again, we had extra incentive to watch closely since Madison, our union-card-carrying professional extra, had worked on three Super Bowl commercials. Though they all aired, Madison's face never made it into the final cuts, but it added some excitement nonetheless watching the ads with a would-be celebrity.

Someone who did get face time was Donkey Lips from Nickelodeon's Salute Your Shorts, not to be confused with a vagina lips donkey, as seen above. Who realized Donkey Lips was still acting? I did know ey was still alive, at any rate since ey was at my friend Katie's birthday party which I attended last year. I don't think I would have recognized Donkey Lips as Donkey Lips except that Lacey pointed em out, at which point it was obvious and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed previously. Donkey Lips was sleazy, by the way, leering at my female friends, standing in the corner of the room taking pictures of them while they danced, and commenting aloud that ey wished the house had a "stripper pole." Epitome of class, no? If you ask me, Madison should have been the one with jumper cables attached to eir nipples, ey would be perfect for this role:


The server who took over after Eric finished eir shift was pretty offensive, making unprovoked racist and homophobic jokes. I like that I hang out with people who all make faces of discomfort and judgment when such incidents occur. At least it gave the day a touch of authenticity: it just wouldn't be a notable sporting event without an outspoken bigot.

The half-time show was good, but Tom Petty nipple would have made it the best ever.

I got bored of the game pretty quickly and once the Patriots pulled ahead, I contemplated switching allegiances. I figured it would be perversely enjoyable to watch a blow out game where the Patriots destroyed the Giants in an uninteresting and awkward to watch match. Alas, the Patriots never got too far ahead, which was for the best, and it kept me rooting for team underdog through the end. The last couple minutes were enthralling. I was out of my seat cheering, not something I would have anticipated at the beginning of the game.

The end was that much sweeter since there were some underage Patriot fans sitting outside the bar watching the game who made a concoction of condiments and other gross things in a cup and vowed to collectively drink the entire thing if the Patriots lost. Suddenly, I was more of a Giants fan than ever. As a teacher, I shouldn't enjoy watching teenagers suffer. Then again, maybe it's because I'm a teacher that I enjoy watching teenagers suffer.

All in all, it was a good time. Maybe America's choice in past times isn't so bad. Perhaps I'll have to try this NASCAR thing I keep hearing about.