As I have mentioned previously, the Super Bowl is by far the greatest holiday in the history of all mankind. I can say with great certainty that my personal Super Bowl experience was far superior to that of anyone else.
I had not been outside for 2 days so it was more than a great surprise to find that I had not sorted my mail from Friday and I had more than a few epic pieces of mail to sort out. First, the new Victoria's Secret. It is the Swim 2009 issue highlighting the wonderfully skimpy bathing suits that makes my large heart swell and palpitate and my man parts stiffen like lumber. I cradled the magazine and made a b-line straight back to my bedroom to have a private session with my new found catalog and best friend. However problems quickly arose when I realized there was no tissue paper near my bedside. I was aghast with terror and almost in anaphylactic shock from the thought of having to re-tie the waist strap on my grease stained navy blue sweatpants and make a wheezing 5 minute journey down the hall to procure a few squares of toilet paper for my private enterprises.
As I made my way down the hall I felt my face turn red and a warmth spread over my entire body. The warm sensation made my hands clench and my blood pressure spike. My legs felt tense and all of the colorful bathing suits, the images of tiny g-strings and perfectly shaped breasts hugged by glorious Victoria's Secret bathing suits flashed through my mind. The perfect models were my true objects of desire at that moment, more than any food no matter how deep fried or scrumptious it was. I grabbed against the wall and let out a moan and with that, I no longer had to go to the bathroom to procure the toilet paper. I felt a sense of relief that I had a satisfying experience without having to actually do work. My sweatpants were ruined for the day, but I had other pairs.
I was now relaxed enough to concentrate on getting my foods ready for the big game. I unwrapped my cheese trays and began boiling water for my canned cheeseburgers. I began to arrange my mozzarella, fried mushrooms and roasted peppers on my party size tray and I ate an entire pizza while doing so. I placed the MOUNTAIN DEW on ice and preheated the oven for my cheesesteak strombolis. My couch had never looked so inviting after the nearly impossible 10 minute task of unwrapping my food trays and preparing them for consumption.
The pregame Super Bowl shows I found boring and lacking insight. The endless drawl coming from the pregame host's mouths was nearly intolerable, so I started doubling up and eating twice as fast. This caused a shock to my system which caused me to black out a few times, and pass out just once or twice, but I drank a few dozen glasses of Mountain Dew which would sharpen up my concentration just in time for the game.
Personally I was hoping to see the wonderful Arizona Cardinals win the game because I have more than a few gripes with the horrible and primordial city of Pittsburgh. The quarterback for the Steelers has far too many letters in his last name and Troy Polamalu really needs to cut that silly, mangy warrior hairstyle that he so proudly sports. Santonio Holmes is slow and has poor hand eye coordination and Hines Ward has laughable skills at best. Bryan McFadden can only be described as asinine and James Harrison is a witless mongoloid.
Now if you want to hear about some true American heros, let's examine the Arizona Cardinals. Kurt Warner is the epitome of an American Hero. He is more grizzled and experienced than a firefighter with the strength of two Peyton Mannings. I once read that Warner hit himself in his own dick with a hammer on purpose. Now THAT, ladies and gentleman, takes true courage and American spirit. Take Larry Fitzgerald; faster than a cheetah but with the grace and style of a panther. Is there a more pefect name is all of sports than Anquan Boldin? I get chills just thinking about it. Anquan. Boldin. BOLDin. Here's another American hero for you: Edgerrin James. Need I go on? Let's recap, Arizona Cardinals: most perfect team in all of sports. Pittsburgh Steelers: clearly lacking in skills and prolificness.
Now I have made it a central theme to talking about American freedom on my greatest of blogs. There is no reason to make an exception when talking about the SuperBowl and the referees. We are living in a land where freedom is king of course. The referees are entitled to make their calls as they see fit and keep the game of football organized and fair. However, it seems to be a problem, perhaps even unconstitutional, when the referees knowingly and purposely make blatant horrible one-sided calls. I felt as if the Cardinals were being discriminated against in the most holy arena in all of sports. It was a travesty that the referees threw flags at nearly every opportunity that by my calculations were clearly benefiting the Steelers and punishing the Cardinals for no reason. I have started a draft to the Commissioner of American Football describing my distaste and anger and outlining a set of policies that should be enacted to keep the game fair as well as a list of people who should be fired for botching up too many calls in Super Bowl 43.
It was a shameful that the Cardinals lost, but I do not feel any more anger. What is done is done, except for that which is done and can be changed. There is no reason that Super Bowl 43 should not be played again under more fair conditions, perhaps in the state of Arizona where the weather is more suitable to the game and the fans aren't a bunch of rabid, foaming pathetic Pittsburgh, unPatriotic third generation immigrants.
My food was hot and delicious, and quite honestly, very distracting. I tried to focus as much energy as I could on the game, but who can when I had deep fried mushrooms, pizzas, FREE-TOH pies, various PIES and cheesesteak strombolis? I consumed enough sodium that day to kill a sheep.
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