Monday, February 07, 2005

Monday Stomach Aches

I mean, what can you say the morning after a Super Bowl that hasn't been said already, besides of course, "Shit, my stomach is fucking killing me?" Lame commentary on the pre-game show, the $2.4 million mershes, the halftime show, the post-game stuff, the game itself -- it's all been done and it's all been said. I got nuthin' new...

But I did attend the only 21+ Super Bowl party in America where a total of maybe half a dozen beers were drank and our three-foot sub had only three two-inch slices taken out of it...that makes me feel real manly. Turning back the clock to high school, some Jericho folks reunited on Lawn Gisland and partied like it was the first half of 1997 all over again: standing in by buddy's backyard, packing super bowl after super bowl, chuckling like schoolgirls at things that aren't even remotely funny to anyone else. My favorite exchange came as we were outside around halftime, when our buddy Berf's eyes were virtually closed from a combination of too much doje and apparent allergies to the dogs in attendance:

AGU: Dude, Berf, your eyes are closing. Hey, check out Berf's face...
YP: (after a pause, says deadpan) Yeah, he's disgusting.

Classic. So anyway, screw Nader, we clearly had the greenest party in town, even if it led to one of our members falling alseep on the couch and leaving halfway through the third quarter. But at halftime, while the rest of the country had to urinate repeatedly and watch part-Droopy, part-Jessica Fletcher sing decades-old songs, we were in the laughing mood to watch Ferrell and Kattan spoof Air Supply on the Best of Will Ferrell Vol. II. And laugh we did. Seriously, if you've never seen this skit, you're really missing out.

"It's Thanksgiving time,
I love your new blazer
Your sleeves are pushed up,
it looks pretty awesome."

Any skit that ends in Ferrell and Kattan making out is hilarious in my book, and that makes up about 67 percent of their stuff. They feign man-love very well, but that's not my favorite love story of the day. Ladies and germs, I present to you, today's real-life Pina Colada Song, courtesy of a couple in Jordan.

So, AGU and I have a fridge full of sandwich left over for dinner tonight, which ain't too shabby. Once this sharp pain in my stomach clears up (beware the pigs in blankets), I'll be ready to scarf down that fucking sammich and sides.

Finally, congrats to the much-hated but much-respected Patriots, you guys are officially the 1996-2000 Yankees, right down to the lame been-here-done-that celebration.

3 Comments:

At 10:23 AM, Blogger poophopanonymous22 said...

so after the clock ticked to zero and the joy of another title sank in, i looked down and saw i had won my office box pool, for a cool $1,000 USD, aint life grand (pun very much intended)

on a serious note, can we put mulgrew on a suicide watch, i am a lil worried about him

 
At 10:29 AM, Blogger Ace Cowboy said...

Congrats, poophop! If Harrison returned that last-minute pick to the house I woulda won $2,100. But he didn't, and I didn't. That sucks. Still, won a little playin' poker and a little in the box pool (touching boxes twice), so I came out ahead. Can't complain.

 
At 10:32 AM, Blogger poophopanonymous22 said...

thanks ace, great night all in all for the poopster, touching box rules

 

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