I’m not terribly sporty. If you’ve been paying attention for longer than half a second, you know that.
Especially football. I mean really. Overweight guys falling on each other and being compensated with enough cash to rebuild Haiti’s infrastructure. No thanks.
But I live in Wisconsin, and I’m not an evil, cold-hearted person. My philosophy on the game today was that I wanted the Packers to win so that everyone would remain happy and excited the way they’ve been all week.
Also I love any excuse to drink during the afternoon (other than, you know, grad school) and dip that utilizes Velveeta, the most unnatural and tasty product ever.
So during most of the game I was kind of in and out of the room…doing work…organizing stuff for tomorrow…washing my hair…figuring out how much money I can spend at H&M without being ridiuclous…lots of Velveeta…oh, did they just score? Cool!
Until the last four minutes. I became obsessed. All of a sudden, everything about football that all the men and a fair number of the women in my life have ever tried to tell me about football made sense and I understood what was happening and WHY it was happening and even what NEEDED to happen and it was kind of like an out-of-body experience where I was watching myself getting all excited and obsessed that we win but the part of me that would rather pull off her own fingernails than watch most football games was disgusted and screaming obscenities at myself and I don’t know, it was weird.
And then we won! And Facebook exploded! And I was tremendously happy FOR NO REASON!
Then I went online and tried to figure out where I could buy a cute t-shirt to commemorate the occasion. You know, before the glow of victory and “cheese” products wore off.
So that was my (brief?) foray into sports fanaticism for the day.