• Mood: groggy

Post Superbowl recovery

It was a good game, even if the Panthers didn't win. Aw heck, it's tradition. We always root for the losing team. But there was much drunken shouting at the television, complete with swearing and cries of jubilation. Much fun had by all. Hobkin occasionally hopped off my lap in disgust during some particularly boisterous exclamations, but he'd always come back when things quieted down again. Overall, he seemed utterly unperturbed by all the excitement going on around him. He did chase Kristin up and down the hall a few times, to the mutual delight of both of them (Hobkin likes Kristin!). And he also got to nibble on a few pretzel ends (with the salt rubbed off) and got an extra large dinner (so he wouldn't go after our pizza). So on the skunk scale of things, I suspect it was a good night for him.

Re: the game. I was thoroughly confused often. Again, that's par. But all the yellow flags and what they meant required me to query dude_the often. Were there more flaggy things this year than usual? It seemed so. dude_the's explanations got less coherent as the game wore on and he got more and more booze into him. Mmmf. But I'm pretty much clear on the whole End Zone and Downs concept, which are really the salient bits.

The half-time show was . . . interesting. The musical entertainment was terribly lackluster, downright uninspiring. But Janet Jackson's boob as revealed by Justin Timberlake was a nice bit of titillation (pun, sorry). Kristin's sister has a TiVo, so after the flash, she called her so we could get a slow-mo/close-up description of the event. Silver pasties. Pffft.

Waking up this morning did not top my list of fun things to do, though. I wasn't hung over, because I didn't drink all that much, but I was quite groggy. The whole going to bed late paired with the Clonazepam conspired to making the morning a rather fuzzy-headed blur. So I took a few hours off work this afternoon.

But now the fun weekend is drawing to a close. dude_the is flying back to the Midwest this evening. Pook.

Writing stats:

If Max hadn't called about his theatre project, I would have accomplished nothing this weekend. So I'm waving around "Icarus Exult" as my badge of productivity.

This week, back to the grind, dammit!