Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time of year again.
In just a few short hours, the New England Patriots and the New York Giants will parade onto the field to play what I expect to be a pretty good game.
Of course there’s plenty of hype around the game. There always is.
The commercials are in the can with the promise of either hitting a home run or throwing a gutter ball. I’ll reserve comment until I see the homage to Ferris Bueller.
In preparation for the big event, Wifey has made salsa.
Wifey makes good salsa.
This time around, she’s changed it up a little. She normally makes a mild batch, and then segregates a portion out in order to add chipotle to it. It’s gooooooood.
Today, she’s made two batches. The first batch was chipotle. As I said before, it’s goooooooood.
So here’s the thought.
If I start digging into that stuff during the first half of the big game, I should pretty much be in the middle of an “Occupy Wall Street” exercise in the privacy of my own bathroom at the point the NFL lays an aesthetic assault on my senses and 42″ TV when Madonna performs for what the Mayans predict will be the last Super Bowl half time show ever.
That’s right people.
I would rather endure the gastronomical pain an anguish of my 43 year old systems dealing with habanero salsa than to sit there and watch Madonna play the Super Bowl. Just for the record, I’m guessing both of those encounters will create a burning sensation when I pee.
Note to the NFL. This is your last Super Bowl (according to the Mayans). Can you cut it out with the crappy half time shows please?