I went to the store this morning to get some non-drowsy cold medication so I wouldn’t nod off during the second quarter. Didn’t get that. All the choice Sudafed was only available by postrating yourself before the pharmacist and trying to act as though you had no idea how to brew up some bulk crystal meth, which I actually don’t, and no, I don’t think I sound defensive, and the pharmacy was closed anyway.
Instead, I bought:
The Red Baron’s Ultimate Pepperoni Pizza (thin crust)
3 varieties of Tostitos: Scoops, Crispy Rounds, and Bite Size Gold
Chi Chi’s salsa
2 Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut bars (large)
One of those prepackaged cheese-cube and beef-stick extravaganzas, strictly because the plastic dish was shaped like a football. I hate myself.
But at least I should now have the sustenance to see this blog through to the Super Bowl’s bloody climax. When you’re situating yourself on the sofa, I recommend the following: salty snacks directly to your right; chilled beverages on the left; hot hors d’oeuvres at about two o’clock; and me on your laptop, front and center.
Write me if you think any of the commercials are worth $2.5 million. Or if you see the John 3:16 sign in the stands. Or if you see a player’s wife attacking the John 3:16 sign.
Do not write me about third-and-long scenarios.
And let’s hope the pizza holds out.
Yo Planet Paige. You are one sassy lassy. Looking forward to watching the game and hearing the profundity tumble.