So we’re hosting a Super Bowl party on Sunday.
As far as I’m concerned this is a get together of Matt’s poker buddies and their families.
Should be pretty simple right?!
A bunch of dudes getting together to watch another bunch of dudes play football; while us gentler persuasion focus on the commercials and the quarterbacks (who look a lot like Matt don’t you think?)
Football and Commercials! No room for drama right? Wrong! Somehow our neighborhood has turned into The Hills. (I’m guessing this is the modern day semi-reality version of the classic Beverly Hills 90210.) Bobbie Jo and Jo Jo Bob won’t come if Ginger Mae and Bubba Mac are going to be there and Bo Luke won’t come if Tootsie is invited. And of course little Daisy Dee doesn’t want to subject herself to the foul mouth of Danny Boy. What does any of this have to do with ME? Why am I being told of all these ifs thens and buts. I don’t CARE. Seriously I DON’T CARE. The less people who come, the greater chance of me getting a seat on the sofa and tasting the clams and stuffed crab that Mr. Nelson promised to bring. I feel better now.
Oh and about the kids. They stayed in their pajamas all day. (It was pajama day at school) (it really was!)
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