The Superbowl has always been a great day of celebration for me. Any excuse to gorge myself on crap food, drink beer in the middle of the day and sit around with the top button of my jeans undone, basking in testosterone, making Tim Allen noises at the screen is my kind of day.
Now, here are two things that, if you have never watched football with me, you might not know:
1) As manly as I am, I really don't know that much about football.
Yep. Watching football has always been more of a social occasion, hang out with the boys, watch some guys smash the hell out of eachother for a while. That's about as deep as I get in to the whole thing.
2) I love to shoot my mouth off about things I know nothing about, particularly if I have been drinking beer all day.
Also, true, although beer is not necessary. I really like pretending I know what I'm talking about, even if I have no clue. This tendency is magnified by the amount of beer I have consumed.
Oh boy! Such a winning combination. One particular Superbowl which was, I believe, the last Superbowl won by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, I found myself loudly declaring that (Bucs placekicker) Martin Gramatica was a son of a bitch and a hack. From where this animosity towards the Brazilian placekicker came I can't say. Nonetheless for at least the second half of the game I was adamant that Martin Gramatica was an asshole and couldn't kick for shit.
Ah memories.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
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