Well, I remember Alicia Keys owning the pre-game show (except for those pants. The chick in that Motorhead video was rocking those!) and other tidbits but the real reason it all seems a blur is because of Absinthe. Yup, I, in an inspired moment of genius, decided to watch the Super Bowl while chasing the green fairy and figured something awesome might come out of it. Didn't work out that way.
I took a few shots, went from zero to SHITFACED in under 60 seconds and decided around halftime I should get home. I had the Big Bitch load me into the car with Mick following (you guys are awesome) as they got me home safely.
Once inside, I dropped on the couch and passed out around the end of the game. When I awoke, I took a few more shots while jamming out to the Rentals and then pinballed (hey, straight edge kids, learn some drunk slang! Pinballing is when you are so bombed out of your mind you stumble into walls back and forth...like a real life pinball game) myself into bed. I felt a pain in Target earlier when I was shopping with my mom (yes, I told her about the Absinthe, she wasn't thrilled but when I explained my intended literary endeavor she was a little less upset that she forced me from her gash), lifted up my shirt to expose my ribs and BAM, a couple of huge fucking bruises. By the time I laid my weary head to rest, it felt like it was about to explode ala Scanners.
So, my big experiment in Gonzo sports coverage was a terrific failure. No more Absinthe for me unless I KNOW I'm gonna see lizards fucking in the lounge.