Superbowl baby

I'm in the car right now driving back from Detriot. That's right I was at the Superbowl. Some of you know and some of you don't know that my boyfriend Jack used to work as a scout for the Pittsburgh Steelers. This was before he left for foriegn lands to do good works, which was before he moved back to the states to be with me forever and ever and ever. Anyway my most delicious man still has friends at the Steelers organization who hooked us up with superbowl tickets. Jealous? Granted it would have been cooler if the Superbowl wasn't in Detroit, but I'll take it. I'm also a little drunk. The champaigne was the good stuff, not that crap you find at the dive bar on New Year's Eve. So I drank alot of it.

Don't worry everyone was even Coach Cower who got tipsy and started weeping and begging Jack to come back the organisation. I told Cower, "We can't right now. And dude get off your knees you're gonna scuff your pants."

Mrs. Coach Cower is great lady though not as much of a drinker as her husband or me. She and I partnered in a Pinacle game. We kicked Jerome Bennis and his daughter's asses. He might be able to run a football a but when it comes to cards he might as well be in the band.

I ran into Hasselback after the game. He looked glum. I told him it could be worse he could be his brother who's a back up quarterback for a team that didn't make the playoffs. Then I offered him a ride to NY to party and hang with his brother. He just sniffled as Jack profusely apologized and dragged me back to the party. I was like, "What are you apologizing for? I was trying to cheer the dude up. I was being very neighborly-- I offered him a ride to the city." Jack said something about me being obnoxious. I don't know. All I know is somehow I'm in the passenger seat of some car. I don't recall how I got in the car. Jack is driving, I'm drunk, typing a blogpost, and trying not to ravage my boyfriend so we don't die in fiery crash.

Happy Superbowl everyone.