Super Bowl Sunday, Girls Night Out, Ogling

Yet again I managed to evade all Super Bowl parties and have a lovely day all to myself. No one forced me to eat cheetos and drink warm beer. No one tried to have me discuss scrummages or huddles, and I didn't have to hear about half yard lines, penalty boxes or zones-- yay! I just don't understand football -- the players are always molesting each other, they're constantly holding committee meetings, and they all seem to be in urgent need of a diet. Perhaps the game would interest me if they resembled rugby players rather than enormous buckets of talking lard...

*** Additional Suggestions To Improve The Game ***

1. Give the players weapons. Nothing says raw manliness more than a good swordfight or an exchange of gunfire. Anything larger than a rocket launcher would be verboten, of course.

2. Get rid of the lumpy, concealing uniforms and make them wear decorative loincloths. I guarantee an enormous increase in the female fan base, especially if anything "accidentally" falls off during a particularly rough play.

3. Encourage audience participation by including especially bloodthirsty fans on the field-- perhaps by some sort of lottery selection.

4. Instead of pop music concerts, fill the intermission with monster truck rallies or school bus figure 8 races.


****

I wouldn't have been able to attend any parties anyway.... I was still catching up on sleep after my Girls' Night Out with Bill and Debbie. They needed a night of ogling, so I was the emergency backup ogler. We ogled lovely Latino waiters when we went out for tapas and sangria; we eyeballed deliciously scruffy artists at the very cool Bask/Tes One art show at Covivant Gallery; we sighed amorously over attractive yuppies at fake Irish pubs.

Overall the evening was a mixed success. I ate delicious brie and berries, hung out with my amusing artsy fartsy friends, was followed by someone with a big face and psychotic notions of flirtation, accidentally insulted someone's teeth, huddled near outdoor space heaters, and was almost run over while jaywalking...

L: "Oh my god-- there's no stop sign.... run!"
(everyone runs, arms and legs flailing)
L: "Oh great, that car full of guys just watched us making total asses of ourselves."
Bill: "Who cares? None of them are going to want to have sex with us anyway"

Stayed up until o'dark thirty and drank coffee at IHOP next to a booth filled with hysterically funny gay men.

And THAT'S why this post is so incoherent.