The Super Bowl Diary

In an homage to Bill Simmons, a.k.a. ESPN’s The Sports Guy, I have decided to keep a running diary of the female fan’s Super Bowl Sunday. So the party begins with my dusty 27-inch TV, my computer, one solitary Sam Adams Light, and a tray of little wieners.

But first let me establish that I’m rooting for the Giants for four reasons: 1.) I don’t like the Patriots because they are cocky; 2.) I don’t like the Patriots because Tom Brady is a mirror-hogging pretty boy; 3.) I don’t like the Patriots because Bill Belichick is an arrogant cheater; and 4.) I’m a Dolphins fan who is clinging to their streak more tightly than Huckabee and his presidential delusions.

And when you stop laughing about the Dolphins, feel free to continue reading.

10:39 am: I’m staring at the many hats hanging amongst my purses on the Container Store apparatus rigged to my closet door. A usually mindless decision has now become a source of consternation. Do I throw on my well-worn Sox cap and run the risk that others will mistake my allegiances in the big game? Just because you're a fan of one, doesn't make you a fan of the other, but others wrongly believe that. Five minutes later, I walk out of the door in a Binghamton University ballcap and a bright blue t-shirt.

10:51 am: I encounter the only person I will see all day in any type of Patriots garb. He glares at me from the back of the Starbucks line, but I respect him for his wardrobe choice. Note to Patriots fans: go buy some gear and stop wearing Red Sox stuff. You're giving Sox fans a bad name.

1:46 pm: Not one jar of queso remains in Our Nation’s Capital. I consider this to be a national emergency.

3:05 pm: While sitting on my front stoop, enjoying the day, I have seen three people walk by in Sox caps. I’m still supporting the Binghamton Bearcats.

3:54 pm: Just flipped on the Fox pre-game show. There’s Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet. Maybe instead of Bud Bowl, we could have Celeb Bowl. No doubt, Ryan would be the scrawny kicker who shanks it at the end and leaves the field for a cabin in Montana to hide in shame.

3:59 pm: I just found the Super Bowl column I wrote last year and check out what I wrote, “Let me establish that I am not a Peyton Manning fan. Frankly, I’d rather see Eli out there because there’s something special about the kid brother, something he hasn’t shown as of yet, but if Peyton ever gets the monkey off his sloping shoulders, then someday it will be Eli’s time.” My roommate just called me Nostradamus.

4:13 pm: Only I would find the Caribbean World Series on TV and breathe a sigh of relief on Super Bowl Sunday. Like an oasis in the desert, I tell you.

4:53 pm: Ryan Seacrest asks Samuel L. Jackson if the Patriots are the best team ever. I hate that question. There’s no way to measure that because 5 million variables go into a winning team’s season. I mean, that’s like asking if Britney is the craziest person ever.

5:56 pm: Crushing revelation. I have little wieners, but no crescents. What’s a pig without a blanket?

6:11 pm: Why is Tom Brady the only Patriot not wearing his helmet coming out of the tunnel? Is that so we can all see his pretty face? Or is that so all of his baby mamas can say, “Look... that’s what your daddy looks likes.”

6:15 pm: Kraft Foods has a wonderfully informative website. If you accidentally leave Velveeta cheese out, it will not kill you. Of course, I haven’t eaten it yet and I have to wonder if it’s really cheese.

6:18 pm: We get a close-up of Eli. Is it me, or does he look like Jim from The Office?

6:24 pm: Jason Taylor of the Miami Dolphins is the Walter Payton Man of the Year. Whaddya know? The Dolphins did represent at the Super Bowl after all!

6:25 pm: The ref doing the coin toss has been in the business for 18 seasons and this is his first Super Bowl. Makes you wonder if he’s like the Susan Lucci of Super Bowl refs.

6:26 pm: I’m officially tuning out all House commercials.

6:28 pm: Praise the Lord! Tom Brady is pain free. I can sleep tonight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say New England has a preoccupation with feet. First Curt’s bloody sock, now Brady’s boot.

6:30 pm: Suddenly I feel like John Favreau watching Rudy on the field. Eli’s so little!

6:30 pm: So glad that Bill Belichick dressed up for the occasion. At least we can thank our lucky stars that he doesn't wear cut-off sweatpants.

6:38 pm: We get our first glimpse of big brother Peyton in the box looking downright Cantonesque in his blazer.

6:41 pm: Eli and the Giants are off to an amazing start, capping off their drive with a field goal. The announcers quickly cover up the frighteningly easy time the Giants just had getting downfield by lauding the Patriots for stopping Manning and Co. in the red zone. But Patriots fans just got the uh-oh feeling.

6:47 pm: The Patriots take command of the ball, and the lovefest begins. The announcers stop just short of saying that the Patriots could defeat Jesus and the Apostles on the gridiron.

6:48 pm: Did anyone else find the Underarmour commercial disturbing in a brainwashing sort of way?

6:51 pm: The new world has arrived. We can now watch all of the Super Bowl ads on MySpace during the game. The entire West Coast just asked, “So then why are we watching the game?”

6:53 pm: Glamor shot of Brady’s ankle. Gag me.

6:57 pm: I’m now trying to figure who’s duking it out at the end of the 1st quarter in my Super Bowl pools. Suffice it to say, it’s not me.

6:59 pm: The Doritos girl who got a record deal is now on. See also: Michelle Branch.

7:00 pm: We’ve had only 2 possessions in the 1st quarter which is a Super Bowl record. I really wish they would cut away to the statisticians the way they cut away to the director’s booth at the Oscars. I want to see smoke coming from the ears of the guy whose job it is to look that up.

7:13 pm: A high five between a Dalmatian and a Clydesdale ranks high on the cute scale.

7:17 pm: I can’t wait to see Leatherheads with the U.N.’s Messenger of Peace. Anthony Edwards just hurled something at his television.

7:23 pm: By far the worst time to eat dinner. First commercial… a heart leaps out of a woman’s chest and heaves itself across the floor. Next... a pack of reptiles dance to Thriller. I’m repulsed and try to down the rest of my blanketless pigs staring at my feet.

7:26 pm: Brady sacked twice in a row. I haven’t seen anything that funny since I watched the Sarah Silverman/Matt Damon song on YouTube.

7:27 pm: Time to multi-task. I just started a Scrabbulous game.

7:32 pm: Revelation #2 of the night: if the score is 14-3 Pats at the half, I win a portion of my pool. But I’m torn because I hate the Patriots like I hate the Yankees... okay, well maybe not that much, but close.

7:41 pm: Is it even necessary to have Justin Timberlake do anything in his commercials? He could be reading an Ikea manual in a spider hole and all of America would still stop whatever they’re doing to hang on his every word. Save the money on the production values, guys.

7:41 pm: The Doritos mouse commercial is infinitely funnier if you’ve had mice in your house recently. Cake works just as well, by the way.

7:56 pm: We remain locked at 7-3 at the half, so I don't win. Izzie just texts to tell me that she did.

8:18 pm: I have now rejoined the game after laundry, a conversation with my Mom, a bathroom break, a heating duct check, a tantrum for not winning the pool, and a Scrabbulous move.

8:29 pm: I just made the world’s worst queso with salsa and Velveeta. I dipped one Tostito and nearly wretched, so then I dipped another just to make sure. Then a third. I can now confirm that it is in fact the worst queso ever. If Ryan Seacrest interviews me, I’ll tell him that.

8:34 pm: Did Belichick just do “The Sprain” while demonstrating how the Giants had 12 men on the field? I think he did.

8:53 pm: Full-scale Scrabbulous action now, and I’m hoping to get lucky in the pool.

9:00 pm: The Patriots are killing me. I just needed one touchdown at the end of the 3rd, but no. Izzie informs me that she won again. I’m happy for her. Really. I am.

9:01 pm: Phone-a-friend about Scrabbulous. I’m tired of her short words that get her 24 points. My competitive rating is now at a 9.

9:07 pm: Mothers everyone swoon as Peyton cheers for his little bro.

9:10 pm: TOUCHDOWN GIANTS! I’m definitely not winning the pool now.

9:17 pm: Fact: Week 17, Pats regain lead with 11:06 left. Tonight, Giants regain lead with 11:05 left. Cut to the stat booth. C’mon! Just one glimpse!

9:19 pm: FYI... the punter for New England is bow-legged.

9:39 pm: NOW the Patriots score. I crumple up my pools and serve them like volleyballs across the room.

9:44 pm: I find the “Do not attempt” disclaimer amusing when the guy attaches jumper cables to his breasts. Sure... for a good time, call 1-800-TOWTRUK.

9:45 pm: Who knew Ben Roethlisberger liked Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain?

9:50 pm: Manning and Co. just pull of the most unbelievable play ever! Eli escapes the jaws of death and launches a bomb to Tyree. You know Peyton just turned to his mother and said, “I told you beating him up would pay off in the long run.”

9:53 pm: Eli Manning is the definition of scrappy tonight.

9:55 pm: TOUCHDOWN GIANTS!!

9:57 pm: We haven’t seen Peyton this excited since he pegged that kid in the back with the football.

9:59 pm: Brady sacked AGAIN!

10:01 pm: Cue the montage of the 1972 Dolphins. Don Shula and Larry Csonka just popped open a bottle of champagne.

10:02 pm: GIANTS WIN!

10:03 pm: Wait… there’s one second on the clock, but everyone except the band is on the field. And Belichick is... leaving?

10:04 pm: Final play of the game and the announcers note that Belichick is already in the tunnel, presumably ripping off the rest of his sleeves.

10:05 pm: Let the celebrating begin in New York and South Beach.

10:11 pm: Pitchers and catchers report in 12 days... in case you were wondering.