I just returned home from the grocery store (which was as crowded as the concession stand at an actual Superbowl) with an array of tasty treats to munch on. As I unloaded my bags, I looked down in disgust at what we'd purchased: Tostitos and microwaveable nacho cheese sauce, pizza sauce (at least we are making homemade crust), nitrate-infused pepperoni, those tacky football cupcakes with a fake plastic Superbowl ring shoved in the frosting, etc... It occurred to me at that very moment that the Superbowl is almost always a day of bad decisions. I mean really, what was I thinking when I grabbed that 6 pack of Smirnoff Ice (Bitter Apple flavored, no less)? Was I thinking, "Hey, let's pretend I'm sixteen again!" Or better yet, "I'm conducting an experiment to see just how bad of a headache I can give myself tomorrow.
Although I haven't been to a Superbowl party in probably 15 years (that's what happens when you don't have friends), I still have a few distant memories of bad-decision Superbowls from long ago. There's the 1987 Superbowl when Parker and I jumped in my Green '74 Cutlass Supreme and hit a teenage Superbowl party which basically consisted of consuming as much alcohol and store-brand cheese doodles as was humanly possible in a 3 hour span. What I remember most about that party however, is the inside of her toilet and looking over at one of our friends who was greener then an Irish Leprechaun. I think I had Social Responsibility homework that night too (it was a requirement in Catholic High School).
A few years later I went Superbowl party-jumping with one of my cocktail-waitress co-workers. Of that day I remember only 2 things: I was wearing black stretch pants with white raised flowers on them, white boots and candy-apple Cover Girl lipstick; and after a few drinks, we thought it was a great idea to go to the town's most notorious biker bar, sublty named "The Bashful Bandit". Once there I drank from glasses that were most certainly tainted with all sorts of communicable diseases - but the alcohol probably killed the germs. I'm not sure but I may have also danced to a Greg Allman song and possibly shot pool with a biker named "Tiny". Holy shit its amazing I'm still alive.
Enjoy your Superbowl Sunday - and all those bad decisions that go along with it! (But please don't drink and drive or worse, drink and "Biker Bar".
Although I haven't been to a Superbowl party in probably 15 years (that's what happens when you don't have friends), I still have a few distant memories of bad-decision Superbowls from long ago. There's the 1987 Superbowl when Parker and I jumped in my Green '74 Cutlass Supreme and hit a teenage Superbowl party which basically consisted of consuming as much alcohol and store-brand cheese doodles as was humanly possible in a 3 hour span. What I remember most about that party however, is the inside of her toilet and looking over at one of our friends who was greener then an Irish Leprechaun. I think I had Social Responsibility homework that night too (it was a requirement in Catholic High School).
A few years later I went Superbowl party-jumping with one of my cocktail-waitress co-workers. Of that day I remember only 2 things: I was wearing black stretch pants with white raised flowers on them, white boots and candy-apple Cover Girl lipstick; and after a few drinks, we thought it was a great idea to go to the town's most notorious biker bar, sublty named "The Bashful Bandit". Once there I drank from glasses that were most certainly tainted with all sorts of communicable diseases - but the alcohol probably killed the germs. I'm not sure but I may have also danced to a Greg Allman song and possibly shot pool with a biker named "Tiny". Holy shit its amazing I'm still alive.
Enjoy your Superbowl Sunday - and all those bad decisions that go along with it! (But please don't drink and drive or worse, drink and "Biker Bar".
1 comment:
Post a Comment