Blackeyed peas and hamhocks on the stove, simmering away. But H has previous meetings today, which tells you something about certain women and football ha ha, so will miss most of my Super Bowl party of one. Well, two, can't count sketch out, especially if I sneak food to him. Actually I think there are anti-Super Bowl festivities planned hither and yon.
My most memorable Super Bowl parties were at Nobby's in the 80s. After a season of predicting games, a big Thanksgiving-like feast on Super Bowl Sunday would wrap up the year. The winner of hundreds of dollars would be announced, often a woman to the chagrin of many of the guys, and the game was usually boring but the party strong. I never did so well in these game prediction affairs. But I was damn good at partying.
I don't know why they have the game so damn late. More time to hype, no doubt. It gets worse every year, and actually I myself have boycotted the game in recent years, not caring who won, but I'm a great fan of Manning and I love the Saints story, so this is a winner no matter what turns out.
And you can watch football and practice the banjo at the same time.
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