Monday, February 2, 2009

Super Bowl Weekend Recap

I went into this weekend with much hesitation and an extreme lack of interest in all things sport related. Accordingly, I had numerous chores planned to help me pass the time. However, I was very pleased with what we got from the world of sports in general from this weekend. Let's go over some of the big stories from the weekend that was.

First, we have the smoking gun (pun intended) that shows Michael Phelps smoking pot, err, inhaling from a marijuana pipe, at a college party in November. I have pretty much come full circle on old Phelpsy. I'm pretty sure I thought he was Australian until this year's Olympics for some reason. Then when he started racking up the gold medals, I thought he was the man even though several unnamed sources that had interacted with him before told me that he was a big wet flapping douchebag. I gave Phelpsy the benefit of the doubt and just thought that those unnamed sources were stupid. Then came all the commercials, and the horrible acting gig on Saturday Night Live; very painful indeed. I still cringe when I hear him say "I told you guys, under a minute." on the Rosetta Stone commercial. I've seen better acting by the old woman by the lake of the commercial. Now, with this photo I have come to detest old Phelpsy. He is a piece of dog shit who thinks he is the man. Let's take a look at this photo. What does it tell us? The Bud Light bottle in the back tells us that Phelps definitely drinks beer. Congratulations Phelpsy, you are making 18 year olds everywhere proud. To quote Todd Haselton's favorite movie Step Brothers; "I remember my first beer."

The next big story of the weekend came while cleaning out my mom's basement. I found a bunch of my old cassettes and cds from ages ago. My reward was being able to listen to classic cds such as Cranberries "Couch" (not really sure what its called) and Santana "Supernatural" on the drive home. Unfortunately I also found out that my cassette player is broken, so anybody that has an extra please let me know. It was also a joy to listen to my old CD-Rs and try to place myself back in that time. What was I doing on March 2, 2002? What about the mysterious CD entitled November 13? What year was it? Where was I? Simpler times indeed. These cds provided the background noise for the next sporting event of the weekend. The Stupid Bowl.

I went into the Super Bowl with minimal expectations; I was merely hoping for a good game. Before I knew it, I was cheering on "Fitzy" like he was the pale Irish kid from down the street. I don't know if Simmons already has him in the Troy O'Leary All Stars, but Fitzy definitely belongs. What a great game it turned about to be and I'm glad abandoned my earlier plans to be the only person not to watch the Super Bowl. The highlight of the Super Bowl for me by far though was Bruce Springsteen's halftime show. It was not the music that made it so memorable, but Bruce's soon to be infamous sliding crotch bomb into the camera, followed by a sheepish smile letting the fans know that his balls were crushed. Was Bruce a little over amped? Or did some jokester add a second coat of grease to the stage. Either way, that moment will be remember in Super Bowl lore. Another interesting sub plot in the Super Bowl was Kurt Warner's wife. She actually looked pretty hot. Was she wearing a wig? What happened to the spiky, gray haired little spark plug that roamed the stands many years ago? If she can attribute that all to the Arizona sun, I think we have found a new fountain of youth. The old fountain of youth of course being porn star Rocco's urine. He is a sick, sick man.

Super Bowl 43 has come and gone. Big Ben Roethlisberger has established himself as an elite quarterback with his second ring; Fitzy is no doubt going to be the first wide receiver off the board in fantasy football drafts next year, and the Steelers have their 6th Super Bowl championship. It seems so wrong, considering there are teams out there with none. Regardless, now we can look forward to the Spring, the warm weather, and the return of baseball. For now, we can enjoy the rest of the hockey and basketball seasons, and wait until photos of Michael Phelps dropping acid surface.

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