End Of The Season Football Round-Up And Super Bowl Guide: “There’s Always Next Year*”

27 January 2009

*Unless you’re a Bengals fan, in which case, there’s not.

This was bound to happen when the Hindenburg switched from a 3-4 to a Cover Two.

This was bound to happen when the Hindenburg switched from a 3-4 to a Cover Two.

Remember when you were a kid and August rolled around, and you knew that Summer was almost over?  So you’d try to enjoy the remaining free days of vacation, but you’d still have a little sadness over the fact that you’d soon be returning to school?  So your dad would take out that rubber hose from his dresser drawer and beat you with it to really give you something to cry about?  And then your mom would console you by saying something like “You really shouldn’t test your father like that, he already thinks the wrong son died in that river”?  Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel every year at this time when my beloved NFL is only two weeks away from leaving me for another interminable hiatus.

I love the NFL, and the off-season always marks a desolate, lonely, depressing time in my year.  No more excuses to start drinking at 9:00 a.m.  No more being able to let off steam by throwing remote controls and punching holes in walls and innocent bystanders.  No more having to curl up in the fetal position, crying myself to sleep after another Bengals loss.  Ah, how I’ll miss it…   But, much like that fifth grader who tries to squeeze as much enjoyment as possible out of those last weeks of summer, we still have the Super Bowl to look forward to.  As everyone expected at the beginning of this season, Super Bowl XLII will feature the Arizona Cardinals and the Pittsburgh Cheating Cocksuckers Who Also Probably Don’t Believe The Holocaust Happened.

"Can you believe this is my life? Will you pity me when you're back in your funky New York apartment and I'm still in Shittsburgh? I need to get more glamorous films."  I couldn't have said it any better.  Unless I was I said it while my mouth was buried between your boobs.  Then it would have been better.

Sienna, matron saint of Pittsburgh hate, sez: "Can you believe this is my life? Will you pity me when you're back in your funky New York apartment and I'm still in Shittsburgh? I need to get more glamorous films." I couldn't have said it any better. Unless I said it while my mouth was buried between your boobs. Then it would have been better.

Like most right-thinking Americans, I hate Pittsburgh with a raging intensity that makes even my boners jealous.  This, of course, is going to mean that watching the Super Bowl will be insufferable, especially since I’m pretty sure the Steelers will be adding another ring to their collection.  They can put it right next to the one they got in ’05 after insidiously taking an ACL-crushing cheap shot against Carson Palmer in the wild card game.  I’m picking the Steelers to win this game, mostly because I looked in-depth at the stats surrounding both competitors and discovered that the other team in the game is fucking Arizona.

There's really no point to this picture, other than the fact that it was inexplicably present in a Google Image search for "Kurt Warner."  You're welcome, readers' penises.

There's really no point to this picture, other than the fact that it was inexplicably present in a Google Image search for "Kurt Warner." You're welcome, readers' penises.

Pittsburgh’s inevitable collection on some pact it made with Satan notwithstanding, the Super Bowl, regardless of the teams involved, offers an opportunity for one last Sunday of gluttonous snack food consumption and wonderful booze drinking.  Whether you’re at home, alone, making the commute to Black-Out Island, or at a friend’s house, trying your hardest to ensure that you get every ounce’s worth of free hootch, the Super Bowl truly is a great booze holiday.  But it’s not just about the sauce, my friends!  No, there are numerous fatty snacks to wolf down, as well.  Because, let’s face it – when else are you going to make pigs in a blanket?  If you said “every Tuesday evening before Gossip Girl,” you’re my kind of person.  And a homo.  What follows is a humble list of some of the spirits, snacks, and other accoutrement that will be sure to make any Super Bowl party a success.

Potato Skins

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There's something almost subliminally sexual about this picture, right? No? Just me?

I don’t know what brilliant son of a bitch invented these things, but I hope he’s now somewhere in heaven, punching Robert Atkins in the face.  When I was a little kid, I held T.G.I.Fridays in the same esteem  I currently hold such restaurants as The French Laundry, merely because I considered potato skins to be the height of the culinary arts.  Oh, sure, is the combination of carbs, cheese, bacon, and sour cream a bit gouche, in reality?  Aren’t potato skins merely bar food?  Yeah, they are, but they still rule your face, so shove it.

Margaritas

That's either a tiny hot chick, or an enormous margarita.  Either way, I'm horny.

Gulliver wasn't long at the bar before he found Lilliput's town hussy.

Most booze has a built-in deterrent in the form of the treacherous and insidious hangover.  Margaritas, the nefarious bastards, also like to mix in their own special kind of evil in the form of wicked, unrelenting heart burn.  And they’re fucking worth it!  No superbowl party is complete without a giant pitcher of margaritas (tequila, triple sec, and lime juice), ice, and salt.  Not only will margaritas get you so fucked up that the mere sight of Hines Ward no longer makes you want to fire bomb that Vietnamese Soul Food restaurant down the street, but, in addition, the dames will flock to them like the salmon of Capistrano.  They’ll probably get so drunk that you can save your roofies for next weekend!

Nachos

If I were the head of Peta and wanted to woo people to vegetarianism, I would simply use as a slogan “Vegetarianism: You Can Still Eat Nachos!”  Boom!  Everyone’s a vegetarian.  Nachos (or, as I like to call them, “Mexican Bruschetta”) were invented by some dude with the eerily similar-sounding name “Ignacio,” in 1947.  Some white guy was going to invent them first, but Ignacio did it for half the price.  While there are many ways to make nachos using myriad cheeses and sauces, I like my nachos simply with a demure drowning of cheese product – you can save the real cheese for your viewing party when Milk comes out on DVD, Liberace.  For our purposes, drown the chips in fake cheese, top with jalapenos, and then, all of a sudden think to yourself: “Holy Fucking Shit…  What if we made these nachos with…  Doritos?!?!?!?”  No need to thank me when you win the Nobel Prize.

Not Jagermeister

Are you going to trust a booze with a crucifix on it?  Plus, that deer looks down-right shady.

Are you going to trust a booze with a crucifix on it? Plus, that deer looks down-right shady.

its_a_trap2

Seriously, it's a trap.

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I have drunk about everything known to man, in my time: absinthe, mescal, actual moonshine, the blood of my vanquished enemies, sweat from a Japanese girl’s underwear that I bought on-line…  But nothing has offended my palate quite like the unholy union of anise and ass funk that is Jagermeister.  I honestly don’t get it when a guy brings a bottle of this swill to a party and expects everyone to be grateful.  “Oh, thanks, Jared (they always have the worst names), good to see you brought the Jagermeister!  And I was worried that we were all out of emetics!  What?  What’s that?  I can’t hear you when I have my foot on your throat.”  Seriously, is there any reason to like a person who likes the Jag?  I’m not going to say something derivative like “You know who else likes Jagermeister?  Nazis!”  But, seriously, people who like Jagermeister probably want to kill Jews and burn their corpses in ovens.  Then lose a war because of bad strategic decisions made in Berlin, rather than allowing those decisions to be made close to the front lines.  In other words, they’re a lot like Nazis.

Miscellaneous

Another great excuse to brave the douchebag menagerie that occupies most Super Bowl parties is the myriad dips that most assuredly await you.  Hummus, french onion, salsa, and hummus are all delicious additions to any party buffet.  As are those little cocktail franks one sets afloat in a sea of smoky barbecue sauce.  Finally, if you don’t have one of them big ass sandwiches from the deli at your Super Bowl party, it’s a known fact your favorite team will go at least four games under .500 next season.  Way to go for the last 18 seasons, Bengals fans!  Finally (Part II), I have omitted Buffalo wings from this list, because their inclusion in it should be self evident.  If you don’t have Buffalo wings at your house this Sunday, you should immediately kill yourself.  Do us all a favor and take a Steelers fan out with you.  Or five.

I hope you're taking notes, Goodell.

"Fifteen yard penalty - 'Sexy Hands to the Face'." Have a fun Super Bowl everybody! Except Steelers fans, of course. Go get fucked, Steelers fans!

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