I only got about 5 and a half hours of sleep from the moment I got home early Sunday morning. Normally, I would've been sleeping in, but this was no ordinary Sunday. We're talking Super Bowl, holmes.
Jenny has this friend Brian who was thinking about throwing a party. I would've went, but things fell through and he ended up not having one. That left me with only one alternative: The Black Sheep.
While all my friends were back in Redmond, thousands of miles away, rocking the joint at Eddie's place, I sidled up to the bar a half hour before kickoff, diving into my first Yuengling of the evening. The day up to this point had been filled with thoughts of my impending website venture, but all of that fell by the wayside once the Indianapolis Colts kicked off to Devin Hester's touchdown-running self.
Highlights include representatives from Anheuser Busch handing out free bottles of Budweiser and Bud Light. A free beer IS a free beer. Also, the funniest thing ever: Old Man Fights. I don't recall exactly when, but I saw my favorite bartender looking to her right with concern. I followed her gaze and saw this old man with a cane sticking his face in that of another old man. This other old man had at least a half a foot on the cane-holding old man, but the little guy wasn't backing down. Nothing ACTUALLY happened, because my favorite bartender got in the middle and tried to calm the agitated elderly gentleman down. But, the old sourpuss he was, he kept calling the taller fella a "cocksucker" and a "faggot" and berated him for walking away like a "pussy" when the other bartender suggested it would be a good idea. I was SO hoping that he'd take a swing at someone with his cane. Just one! It would've made my year; I could've died right there had that happened. As it stood, he was simply escorted out of the premesis.
Oh yeah, and the game was pretty good too. That first quarter had to be, by far, the greatest quarter of football in Super Bowl history. Kickoff for a touchdown, a long bomb for a touchdown, a long run leading to a short touchdown, four turnovers ... and it took about nine and a half hours (seriously, I was already on Beer 5 with a minute left). The rest of the game didn't quite keep up that frenetic pace, but I was happy with the outcome. Bears fans in the bar were cheering at random first downs because their team was so pathetic, it was great. I was boisterously, of course, rooting on the Colts.
Which brings to mind the idea of Sports Bigamy. Obviously, I'm a Seahawks fan through and through, but over the years other teams have captured my interest for one reason or another. In my teenage years, I really liked the Atlanta Falcons. They had cooler uniforms, Deion Sanders before he was an annoying superstar, and Jerry Glanville, the coolest southern bigot coach in the last 25 years. More than anything, though, the Falcons were exciting. They didn't win a whole lot of games, but their offense was high-flying and you were almost guaranteed a close finish at the end. My interest in the Falcons has waned with the advent of Michael Vick and the Seahawks moving to the NFC, but that just opens up my renewed enthusiasm for the Colts.
I've liked the Colts since Jim Harbaugh nearly completed a hail mary pass that would've either tied or won the game against Pittsburgh in the year that the Steelers lost to the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. That's why I've had that Indianapolis Colts sweatshirt all this time. The Colts, like the Falcons for so many years, have been underdogs while posing a potent offensive threat. Even with Peyton Manning and all his oversaturation in commercials, I don't really mind the Colts. Until this year, they'd yet to get over that Patriots hump, so that made them endearing sort of. Now that they've won it all, ehh, I don't think I'll tire of them just yet. If they go on to become some fucking Dynasty though, you better believe I'll be rooting my ass off against them, no matter how much Tony Dungy looks like Dumbo.
By the way, show of hands: how many of you ejaculated in your pants during the Prince performance? Come on, be honest! That was, by FAR, the greatest Super Bowl halftime show put on by the NFL that I've ever seen. He. Fucking. KILLED.
But, more than anything, I'm just glad the Bears lost. All their whining about Not Being Respected and people Not Believing In Them, it was all bullshit. Yeah, you know why no one was taking you seriously as winning this game? Because you suck! When they tried to pull that crap in the Seahawks game - even though they were 9-point fucking favorites at home after a bye week - I gained a newfound hatred for this pathetic excuse for a football team. They're now up there with the Raiders, Broncos, Rams, Cowboys, Steelers, and whoever we're playing That Week. Fuck the Bears, fucking pussies.
And finally, allow me to finish by declaring my unwavering adoration for the aforementioned Favorite Bartender at The Black Sheep. Here's my reasoning: sure, she's pushing 40, but she's still got a really good body; and what's a man's number one concern entering a long-term relationship? Will she be able to NOT get fat as she ages! Well, she's aged, and she's damn fine. Plus, she's a football fan - and not one of these girly fairweather female football fans who just SAY they like football, I get the sense that she actually means it - and she deals with alcohol, along with breasts you're looking at three of my favorite things in life. Throw into the equation she's already seen me hammered in public and doesn't appear to be put off by it ... all I gotta do is make a move. Come on, young stud like me, she'd be a fool to turn all this down! Yeah, I should become a creepy regular who just goes in there to make small talk with her. She's gotta be a demon in the sack.