THE SUPER BOWL PARTY
|This cranky re-run is from February 2012|
For the fifth straight year, I will be watching the Super Bowl at home. No Super Bowl party for the Cranky Old Man. I will miss watching with my 13 year old son Spencer as he has been whisked off to another state by his BPD mom (thanks a lot NJ Custody Courts and its dumb ass judge who has absolute ZERO understanding of the relationship between a teenage boy and his dad.) I will NOT miss the Super Bowl Party.
The Super Bowl Party is not about the Super Bowl. It is not about football. It is about showing off food, and 58 inch TV sets. The Super Bowl party is to football fans, what the New Years Eve party is to alcoholics; strictly for amateurs.
Part of the problem with the Super Bowl party is women. Super Bowl parties all have women. Don’t take offence ladies, but when you all talk about breast feeding, child birth, monthly visits and shoes, I step the frick out of the conversation. At the Super Bowl party I really don’t want to hear that the Patriots will win because Tom Brady is “Like way more awesomer than Eli Maningham.”
Every Super Bowl party should have a large poster by the TV stating:
1. The names of the teams and their uniform colors
2. Where the game is being played
3. The temperature at game time
4. Who is lip-synching at half time
These are the questions asked by every woman who enters the Super Bowl party; there is no need to answer them 18 times.
This one fries my patoot. A controversial play ends in a loss of downs and change of possession, when the commercial comes on and the men strike up a discussion about what just transpired on the field, they get shouted down by the women, “SHHHH, it’s the new “Bank One” commercial!” I can’t talk football because it interrupts the fucking commercials? WTF!
Half time should be for recapping the first half, arguing over play selection, going to the bathroom, eating chili, drinking beer and marching bands. Not at the Super Bowl party. Half time is for quieting down, dropping everything, and watching this year’s superstar lip-synch her latest hit song to the backdrop of 287 dancers, 5000 fans fucking up the field, and $500,000 worth of fireworks.
W O-fucking W!!
CAN WE PLEASE GET BACK TO FOOTBALL?
The second half is played with critiques of the half-time show and endless discussions of 47 different commercials competing with the play by play calling of the game on TV. The game is always secondary at the Super Bowl party.
The Super Bowl party sucks!Can anyone guess why the Cranky Old Man has not been invited to a Super Bowl party in the last five years?
It does not matter. I am not seeking a party invite, if invited I will not accept, and if my wife accepts, I will not attend.