Super eve

When you know by heart that 8 million pounds guacamole is consumed on Super Bowl Sunday, it is a good indication that it’s about time to get a life.  Even though I like guacamole, I’m usually overwhelmed by information and how they can tabulate something like that. I’m sure it is online somewhere but I’m just really anticipating seeing what Peyton Manning can do on Sunday against that formidable Seattle secondary. I’ll be moved by the inspiring Derrick Coleman, the first deaf player to play in a professional title game and remember that he was on the Vikings roster during the 2012 preseason. Or if Eric Decker can run past Sherman toward the pylon just like he did as a Gopher against Illinois CB and future first-rounder Vontae Davis in October 2008,  a little after 11:00 AM. After that, there will be a void of no football that I’ll try to fill by watching Signing Day coverage until the Combine and the Draft, which honestly is a bigger deal to me than the Super Bowl. I’ll watch the Signing Day Coverage while wishing that I wasn’t so awkward, then and now, and wishing that I had options like those insanely talented prepsters.

I probably won’t be eating guacamole and I’ll be watching the game in solitude since I have never received an invite to any Super Bowl party. Like most things, I never really found out why.  I remember all too well the Super Bowl party in 1999 that everyone in junior high went to except  me. The guy was two lockers down from me so I heard about all the cool games, the pool table, how everyone enjoyed homemade pizza while in the hot tub. Sure, there was a big screen but I don’t think I would have even watched because the Falcons were playing and I was still wiping the tears off my purple-colored glasses.  There wasn’t much going on for me that winter. That was a horrible Super Sunday.

So, I wish you a happy Super Sunday. I think the main reason why I post on this blog is that there is really no one to talk to about sports or music. It’s one of the things that comes with not fitting in anywhere or having no real bonds or connections with people. I’m sure no one will care that I think Wes Welker will play well and earn the MVP and win a nice, shiny, awesome new car as well. It will be a cold, lonely day in front of my beloved big screen. In some strange and fitting way, watching that spectacular Gatorade shower in high-definition is the only place where I can find any kind of calm. You might say it is a HZTV, as in high zen. It’s a beautiful game and a beautiful TV and while I’m exciting to see class acts like Peyton Manning, Champ Bailey, and Percy Harvin play on the same field for what will probably be the last time, my problems will still be there in the morning. They have only intensified in the last 15 years. Here’s to a nice Sunday.