there’s all this fuss about an upcoming super bowl. there are hundreds of tweets and blogs talking, frantically, about impossibly-tiered, overly-handled, football-themed food goods to serve to your enthusiastic and clearly, soon-to-be-obese guests. i saw a stadium constructed entirely of sandwiches. cupcakes akin to pom poms. helmet-shaped relish sculptures. really, the way some of these hostesses go on and on, i have to think: was gloria steinem just a mirage? didn’t we get past this? is a sheet-cake smeared with treacly-colored sugar stripes really what the epitome of pleasing your man has come to?
call me anything, but mostly, a proud super bowl bore.
as we know, i’m clueless as to what makes this such an americana moment. that’s what thanksgiving is for, right? and the 4th of july?
instead, i’m always amazed at the advertising dollars spent, the ad-man creativity saved for, this particular day. and each and every year, admittedly, as a fan of hollywood (who does consider the oscars worthy of this type of adoration and adulation), the only part that slightly, partially intrigues me are the bits when some mega-star performs at half time, and when iconic stars cut it up in some funny commercials.
and i can watch those, by bits and pieces, with the fine tooth comb known as youtube.
no, on super bowl day (with sincere apologies to my only son), the tv is either off or glued to my favorite sunday night line up, or off entirely so that i can savor some settled-in winter evening with a book and tasty dinner. which, incidentally, is not mangled into the shape of something nfl-worthy. 
m wood pen 