I killed a 1/2 bottle of wine and two Margaritas while watching the massacre on the football field of the Steelers and the Packers. Right at this minute, the game is in the last minutes of the third quarter so there will be no chest pounding from either the husband or myself. He is an NFC fan. When it gets down to the Superbowl and his favorite team is not in this battle, then it comes down to the conferences of the teams playing.
I didn't realize why he suddenly was a 'Cheesehead' until I made note of the conference thing.
I'm wiping the sauce from the chicken wings off my lips. This is the best part of football. I can hang out on the sofa with my laptop open, eyes on the game, a drink in one hand while he cooks. What's not to love about a football Sunday? I think our roles might be reversed? At least I know who should be drinking the beer and it's NOT me.
Game score final. The Packers have accepted the Vince Lombardi trophy.
I'm going to wobble off to bed. I perked a few cups of coffee to halt the party in my head. I'm done.