Last night I went to a Superbowl party at the Harry Buffalo across the street from my old tenement. It was held as a fundraiser by the Cleveland Iron Maiden’s Rugby team. A friend of mine is on the team so the least I could do was drop my last twenty bucks for some wings and beer.
Unfortunately there were no wings. I made do by chowing down on some pizza, little spicy potato poppertots and nachos. Damn was that football game boring. I’m glad that David Givens [and ND alumnus] caught a TD pass and I’m glad the Pats won because their offensive coordinator is going to be the new ND head coach. The commercials were pretty lame too. So was the halftime show and the pregame and all that jazz. In fact, the whole televised aspect of the Superbowl this year was about as engaging as gumming a dry sock.
Thankfully I had the company of some other coworkers and the antics of the rugby team to keep me entertained. I also discovered that I can now stomach cheap and digusting beers without wanting to yarf. The Bud Light was free and it tastes like cold sweat, even to the point of leaving a salty scum on the back of the throat; but at least I didn’t want to puke. But there weren’t any wings.