Saturday, February 5, 2011

Super Bowl, stupid bowl...where's the food table?

This weekend is the Super Bowl. It's on Sunday. And that is about the extent of my knowledge of this event. Who is playing? Which one is it? I have no idea, and I do not care one bit.

What I do care about is that it is a good excuse for a party. Mama loves a good party.

Sunday, my husband will gather with friends somewhere other than our house. I told him this year that I will not be joining in his macho football watching debauchery, so he is free to grunt and pound his chest and make other rude noises. He will gather with friends who are all married to my friends, so there is a good chance that there will be some female hating going on as well. Whatever floats your boat boys, so long as you're home by midnight. It's a school night. And take your shoes off on the tile, I just swept!

Anyways, I am having girlfriends over for the Super bowl.  But instead of watching foot ball, we are going to eat awesome tail gate foods while flipping between the Puppy Bowl and Netflix seasons of Sex and the City. I am so excited. About the food especially, because it will be a veritable buffet of white trash awesomeness.  Chicken wings. Little smokies. Rotel cheese dip.  Be still my heart.

I love these foods. I do not eat them too often, mainly because I need to fit through a door frame, and the ingredients in most of these dishes could survive a nuclear fallout.  Cheese that you can leave out for 5 years and still eat is probably not too good for you.  But Sunday, I erase these sorts of things from my mind and get down on some nuclear fallout, while watching Mr. Big be an ass to Carrie for the 1,394th time.

And the puppies will be cute, too.

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