This Thing Called The Super Bowl

“So I got cheese sticks, chips, dip, and various Little Debbie snacks to eat during the Super Bowl. ‘Cause, you know, calories don’t count during the big game,” I explained to Tom on Sunday.

Tom looked up from his iPad and frowned. “The Super Bowl?” he repeated.

“Yes. The big game.” I nodded.

“Do you even know who is playing?” Tom wanted to know.

He asked because I am not into sports. And here I was prattling on about snack foods to eat during the Super Bowl as though I planned to actually watch it.

“Yes. The 49ers and the Ravens,” I answered in a haughty tone. Yes, I only knew this because of my Facebook feed but he didn’t need to know that.

“What number Super Bowl is it?” Tom continued.

“Um. Thirty….three?”

He smirked. “And you plan on watching it?”

“Uh…the first ten minutes and then I’ll probably get bored and switch it over. Thank goodness you don’t want ot watch it—”

“I never said that.”

What? Tom really isn’t into sports either. Unless the Cleveland Browns are playing, which is rare, because they tend to suck. And Tom has grumbled a few times that the Ravens are just old Cleveland Browns players.

“Please don’t make me watch the whole thing. I got the foods because even though we might not watch the whole game, at least we can eat like we are,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

Anyway, we ended up watching most of the game. Well, Tom did. I was reading. But then he'd shout and carry on when a big, burly Raven scored and would startle me so I'd get distracted. Honestly, must they be so loud? When Mary and Matthew finally got together on Downton Abbey I was thrilled but I didn't stand up and scream about it.

Then the power went out at the Super Bowl and I was like, "See? Even the Universe is bored," and Tom agreed that we could watch something else--for a bit--then I had to switch it back over and he saw the 49ers were doing better and ranted that if they won, it would be this huge controversy and people would wonder if someone on their side switched the lights off so they could win and blah, blah, blah.

I just wanted the game to end.

3 minutes in football time is like 30 minutes.

Finally it was over and Tom was pleased. He kept explaining all these rules at the end. Something about how after the fourth down the ball switched teams and something about field goals and letting the clock run out...honestly, I tuned him out and went back to reading.

So that was football in our house.