Yes, I realize that yesterday was the Superbowl, and other than giggling over using terms like “Tight-end”, and “Deep penetration”, I couldn’t be bothered much with it. Especially not to blog about it. It killed all of my regularly scheduled TV watching. I was feeling downright stabby.
Now that it’s over, I feel the need to reflect on my deep and fiery hatred for all things football, and especially all things Superbowl.
Yeah, I watched part of it. I’ll admit it. I swore to the heavens that I wouldn’t, but I did; 90% for the commercials and 10% so if there was some “GAME CHANGING PASS” I wouldn’t be the only one on the planet to miss it, and let’s be honest, i’m too fucking lazy and don’t care enough to google for that shit once it’s over.
Regardless of that embarrassing fact, I still HATE the Stuperbowl. It’s not a woman thing, let’s not be sexist here, it’s a ME thing. Allow me to list the reasons why, and see if perhaps you can relate.
We will start at the beginning.
1. I was born January 30th. Before the tragedy of September 11th happened, the Stuperbowl used to occur on the LAST Sunday of ever January instead of the first Sunday of every February.
Can you guess whose birthday landed on game day every couple of years? Yep. Mine.
Cue me, sitting alone in a room with a birthday cake at an adults Stuperbowl party while no one paid a single bit of attention to me because they were too busy screaming at the boob tube. That is a recipe for some seriously bitter feelings as an adult.
2. I became a cheerleader. GASP! AFTER HATING THE SUPERBOWL?!?! Yes. Because it seemed like the cool thing to be doing and I hated every other sport and wanted to wear a cute uniform. I only lasted on the sideline for one season. Why? Because I was bored to tears and wanted to do something more challenging than watching asshole pre-teen boys run back and forth for 4 hours. After that I moved to competitive cheerleading. No more watching a game or cheering for someone else, I was cheering for my OWN damn glory. This fueled the fiery hatred I already had inside for football.
3. Holden was born. There is no denying that Holden was a FAT baby. So fat that his rolls had rolls. Any time we took him in public, any time anyone saw him, their INSTANT comment to us (or to him) would be something along the lines of “YOU’RE GOING TO BE A LINEBACKER WHEN YOU GROW UP AREN’T YOU?!”
HEY! TWATBAG! Just because he’s a BIG baby does NOT MEAN HE WILL PLAY FOOTBALL. Could you BE any more stereotypical?
As you can tell, i’m still a little sour about all the backhanded “damn you have a fat baby” comments. I take out this sourness on my already deep seeded hatred of Football.
Check, and mate. There is no coming back for tossing back and forth a ball made of pig skin and large men in tight pants slamming into each other for what feels like an endless amount of time. Not even the “Tight Ends” can lure me to like it. Not even the cute or funny, or god forbid cute AND funny commercials. And ESPECIALLY not Madonna. Sorry y’all, just no. She is the QUEEN, I realize this… but no.
I’m guessing there are some new folks agreeing with me in the form of Pats fans; which is why I still say we should have gone with my original plan of them BOTH losing.
Roads trips with Kids–Here’s what you REALLY need goo.gl/fb/yj96Mw
@selfmademummy I'd explode if I tried
"Motherhood-- the days are long but the years are short" Wrong. The days are long but the SLEEP is short.
If you enjoy working hard to prep a delicious meal only to be told "I'm definitely going to hate that" before it's served, you'll love kids.
it's what I like to call "Resting Mom Face" pic.twitter.com/DmFPcSIZjR
@Abby_NotDead My youngest looked like a cross eyed fish. Adorable now but it was a rough first few weeks 🤣
New babies look like potatoes 😂😂😂 pic.twitter.com/aCbnxRXKQq
When you told your kid they could help but now they're messing literally everything up pic.twitter.com/SgCzddoECB