I was thinking this was all one piece of writing. However, as I delved into my archives, I found it was actually two pieces, I guess melded together in my memory because I hold a fondness for both in my heart and they are both exclusive to this time of year. The Superbowl piece is definitely from 1999... the Valentine's piece, I think, is a few years later.
Sunday, January 31, 1999
8:19PM
The Superbowl is over for another year. The kick-off wasn't until 1:20p or so. The Atlanta Falcons made idiots of themselves
while losing to the Denver Broncos . Only makes sense (doesn't it?) that if you
match up some birds against some horses, the horses will win.
I have decided that the MAIN reason that people watch
football is so they can bounce up and down in their La-Z-Boys and shout and
drink beer and have a wild time with their buds and have a valid excuse to do
so... they are sports fans, are they not?
No one can glare at them for behaving boisterously because they are
SUPPOSED to act like that... it's totally acceptable. I actually did watch quite a bit of the game
and, while I was not shouting orgasmically at every play, I must admit that I
did find myself rather amused at times.
I found the part where they stand in their little lines and
start each play especially attention-getting, rather like when you're playing a
computer game and it looks the same at the beginning each time, but as soon as
they start running around, they always go in different directions than they did
the time before. I am pleased with the
players who embody those slippery-as-an-eel qualities, sliding past their
opponents and ridding themselves of the pigskin at the appropriate moment so their
pal down there at the end of the field can catch it and score some points. He who catches the ball and achieves the
touchdown also scores my admiration.
As
for those fellows who just hunch over and stare each other down while in the
little lines , I don't care much for them and
find little interest in watching them.
Oh sure, they're necessary and all, bouncing off each other and
defending the eel-man and his end-zone friend, but it seems to me that they are
the goons of the game... the thugs protecting the Big Boys.
Also entertaining do I find the pleasant six-tone bell tune
which is played periodically to alert those who have wandered away that the scores are now being
displayed on the screen. How civilized
and how very amusing that such a manly game uses such a girly-type method of
getting the fans' attention. I laughed
the first time I heard it. I mean, this
tune sounds like something off a soap opera.
Perhaps the authorities feel that this feminine melody will attract the
attention of our macho footballers effectively simply for the reason that it IS
so feminine. And then, when they're going
to commercial breaks, they play the pumping band music to generate energy and
excitement... what are the beginning notes?
You guessed it... the tinkly girl tune... almost unrecognizable at this
point.
I was disgusted, however, at some of the commercials
selected to entertain the predominantly-male viewing audience.
Topping my Most-Offensive list:
the Victoria's Secret Internet Fashion Show reminder, followed closely
in repulsivity by the new Extra-Spicy Doritos commercial. "THESE LARGE-BREASTED WOMEN CAN FULFILL
YOUR EVERY FANTASY. FLAT GIRLS NEED NOT
APPLY." That was clearly the point
which was being driven across to the crazed and woozy fans.
Valentine’s
Day... again...
When you were a
kid, Valentine's Day was nothing short of WONDERFUL. Ahead of time, you spent time in class
decorating your little paper bag to hang on the front of your desk... you had
the glue, the construction paper, the stickers... whatever it took. On February 13, you did not leave until you
had affixed this bag to the front of your desk.
The next day,
Valentine's Day, the atmosphere in the classroom was filled with excitement and
anticipation. Love was in the air. There were usually heart-shaped cookies to
eat, or maybe cupcakes decorated accordingly, and some red punch to drink. Everyone, and we're talkin' EVERYONE, got
valentines. Whether you were liked or
despised, you got valentines. No one was
left out. If you REALLY liked someone,
you could get there early and slip them a special valentine anonymously. Whether they had a thing for you or not, you
got an extra little blast out of receiving THEIR card... even if it was the
same one they gave to everyone else in the class (including their bitter
enemy).
Now I'm an
adult.
Sadly, when you
are an adult, you've learned that grade school shed quite a twisted slant on
what awaited you in the Real World. I
guess they felt you shouldn't be mentally scarred until a little later on in
your development. Now, unless you're
practically engaged to someone (or have some fresh long-term shack-up situation
going on), or perhaps your current swoon thinks this is the little
"in" he can use to finally get you in the sack, you can just forget
any feelings of inclusion or happiness on Valentine's Day.
Brace yourself
for rejection, because it lurks just around the corner. It's waiting for you on Valentine's Day, and
there are NO detours. To get to February
15, you MUST first suffer February 14... like it or not.
SMACK!
[Disclaimer: Valentine's Day can actually redeem itself... eventually. In retrospect, this does sound more than a little bitter... but I was really feeling it!]
