Friends, Food, Football

We're not big football fans but we always watch the Superbowl. We whip up some heart-attack food and chill some beers and try to act like the rest of America. Several years ago we watched the Giants tear the heart out of the Patriots. That was especially rewarding since we lived in Rhode Island and enjoyed seeing Boston teams (or in the case of the Pats, New England) lose. It made up for all the boorish behaviour we were subjected to regarding our love of the Yankees.

Mariel watched that game with us. It was the first time I'd imbibed beer with her, a rite of passage of sorts. We watched the game on the "big" TV downstairs on Mark's level. We ate junk. We commented on the commercials. Did the half-time show involve wardrobe misfunction that years? All I know is the Pats lost and we won, not that we really cared.

Last year, Marty watched the game in New York at a friend's house. He had just started working there. I must have watched it alone, or maybe with Harry. I honestly don't remember. This year, we decided to have a party and invited three friends to our apartment where we ate traditional food (wings, salsa and chips, hot dogs in pastry) and unexpected fare (steamed dumblings, salad and chicken shu mai, whatever that is. The best food of all was a key lime pie baked by our friend Roxi. Yum.

We all agreed the game was interesting, but the commercials were not unusually pithy. The half-time show was so-so. I think they shoud stick with acts that appeal to multiple generations like the Stones or Paul McCartney.

I was in bed by 10:30. Marty was washing dishes at 2 am, but I think he'd napped some before that.