Yeah, in case you were wondering, I’m sitting here in my apartment alone, watching the Super Bowl and drinking girly drinks, which is why I’ve been storm-blogging. That probably makes me kind of lame, but you know what makes been even lamer? I’m about to start bitching about the Super Bowl, blog-style.
Well, the game is actually pretty good. But we are currently at half-time, where we have yet another aging rocker performing hits from 20+ years ago. Weak. I mean, I like Tom Petty ok, and I guess it’s still an upgrade from the Up With People Super Bowl Halftimes, but I mean, can we have something current please?
Well, this Super Bowl’s solution was to get a whole mess of youngsters, from God knows where, to rush the stage – as if the normal, unhot audience weren’t barricaded from the field – and dance funkily as if they had any idea who Tom Petty were, aside from the guy who sings Freefalling while they chug rancid Labatts from a beer bong in their frat houses. Ok, I’m getting dark, but it was pretty annoying when they showed a close up of MTVers who were apparently supposed to be singing along, but they obviously didn’t know the words.
Well, the game is back on. I’ll resume casually watching the Super Bowl, lazily practicing horn, attempting to fix my BlackBerry, drinking Vodka and cranberry juice, and possibly pausing to write more sassy blogs.