The Super Bowl Party

The Super Bowl Party

I went to a Super Bowl Party this past Sunday and saw a friend I hadn't seen in almost ten years. It was good to catch up on what had happened in our lives and even though we've emailed and stuff since we last saw each other, sometimes it takes that personal meeting to give you that feeling of real connection.

And you know what? The dude is still as goofy as I remember.

This is a good thing. We all have a certain goofiness that we reveal to our close friends and family. Siblings, in particular, never let us forget the brain-headed things we did growing up. And they never hesitate to inform future wives of those times too.

Craig's Super Bowl Party had everything a Super Bowl Party should: hot wings, chili, chicken enchilada soup, beer, soda, banana pudding, plenty of smack talk, a projection TV, etc. It had plenty of different people from all walks of his life and they all mixed well. There were even some hot chicks there (all married as my luck would have it).

There was a single misfit, however, and I guess every Super Bowl Party had one.

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Stealing Our Tennis

Stealing Our Tennis

I was hanging out with a bunch of guys watching the US Open on television the other week. We were watching the women's game (no comment) between Venus Williams and Jelena Jankovic when one of the guys said, "Man, I'm getting tired of all these foreigners coming over here and stealing our sports."

I looked over at him but said nothing. He continued, "When they gonna learn tennis is our sport and we're the best at everything."

That prompted me to say something derogatory. "John," I said, "please stop being such a redneck."

He looked at me in a redneck way, throwing out redneck vibes in waves, then said, "What're you talkin' about?"

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