Super Bowl Sunday

Wow. Superbowl Sunday. I don’t know HOW I managed to make it through the entire year for this one day.

I had a great time making the snacks for my dear husband and his friends who just had to come over at noon time to begin the ‘countdown’ to the superbowl. You’d swear it was the Emmys or the Oscars, the preparation was so important and detailed. I laughed and giggled through all the tiny orde..oh derve………whatever you call those pre-dinner treats.

I was tickled pink by all the cases of beer that adorned my fridge, the bags of Cheetos and potato chips that lined my cupboard – not to mention the hundreds of peanuts in several bowls.

Yes. Superbowl Sunday. The day where grown men (and not so grown men) decide they will celebrate a sport they perhaps watched all year round – or, in my husband’s case, only watch that one day of the year. They pat each other on the back when the team they ‘bet’ on gets a touchdown, and scratch their ba.. bellies and open their pants as the day wears on.

By the time the game began, the ‘boys’ were so ‘full’ (and I’m not just talking about the food) that they were too busy farting, groaning, and heading to the bathroom every five minutes to worry about the game.

Yes. Superbowl Sunday. I have to say it was a great day. A fun day. A day I can’t wait another year for it to come around again. Now I have to go because the house is waiting for me to put it back together again.

Oh joyous day……..oh happy day………

Oh GOD give me a break

Bonnie