Super Bowl XLIV

As a young girl, pre teen, et al, I was dragged, by my parents with Jedi Catholic Italian guilt tactics, to a Super Bowl party with my father's college buddies and their families, every year. It was pretty brutal, and I am sure much worse in my memory than it actually was. But I was the only girl my age among a bunch of boys. Thinking about that now, it should have been much better, but I was not interested in them and they were not interested in me and even if they were, my brother did a fine job of making sure that there was no fun for me.

Today we went to a party, where there were no children and it didn't seem to phase Natalie in the least. Perhaps no other kids is better than other kids who want nothing to do with you. But those are my issues, not hers. But for me, that stigma is still attached to Super Bowl Sunday and football in general, and I find it all painfully boring. I don't care about football, and I certainly don't care about the Saints or the Colts. And living in a state that just hates teams because the quarterback is the brother of the quarterback who beat the Patriots two years ago in the Super Bowl really makes me uninterested in football.

But Dan likes football-- he has made great efforts to get Natalie interested in football, and I like a reason to drink beer and eat Fritos and Doritos and extremely unhealthy dips that I would not make in my house and Super Bowl Sunday offers this to me. It is like a black hole in eating healthy. Everyone is doing it, so it makes it ok somehow.

So cheers to Super Bowl Sunday and Go Giants!