Where Have I Been? Off Feeling Super!

Hi everybody,

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Jeez, where HAS the time gone? I suspect some of you have even given me up for dead, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Tell you what. Rather than try to come up with some lame-ass excuse for why my posting has decreased to a painful, diseased trickle, why not instead come up with an equally lame-ass post to make up for it?

I suppose I owe you an explanation for where I've been all this time since my last post. Okay, here goes: I caught Super Bowl Fever! And the only cure? (Besides MORE cowbell?) A trip to THE Super Bowl!


{{{{{{Pug Flashback}}}}}} It all started immediately after my last post. I started feeling melancholy, with a sense of loss that this most excellent of posts was no longer just in my head. It was now separate from me. Call it "Post-Part 'Em Depression" if you will. It's the same feeling I get after a date with (let's see ... who's turn is it for me to pick on ... ?) RevRee.


Anyhoo, I sensed that a change of scenery would be welcome, and though I hear London is both vibrant and tropical during this time of year, I was worried that the current exchange rate for this colonial roll of dimes in my front pocket might not adequately convert into royal "wanderlust". And so rebelliously, I decided to "live free" to pursue other "liberties".

I contemplated a trip to sunny Florida, where perhaps I could while away the hours on an adventurous picnic past the point of no return with my dear Lamby.


However, I realized that Lamby is slightly too chaste and wholesome for the likes of this Pug. And who am I to suffocate in all of that fluffy woolen virtue? No, perhaps it was time to embrace the animal within, and pay a visit to the local "cathouse".


Was I even half-way there, roll of impetuous dimes given way to nickels of passion, when I realized that this was a futile scramble from leash of reality? After all, had I not been banned from that place less than 6-months prior, for behavior so disgusting that decorum prevents me from disclosing it here?

Maybe, just maybe the answer - not unlike in a Menage a Trois - was somewhere in the middle. Perhaps exposure to professionals of a similar yet different pastime were what was called for. The Super Bowl was beckoning.


I don't know how old I was when I first developed a passion for the game. Ten? Eleven? I can't remember exactly, except that it was a lonely time, when all I had for companionship in that desolate attic were the countless stacks of National Geographics along with the occasional "Land O' Lakes" butter carton.

One crisp fall day, that Spartan existence changed. It was my very first football game. I didn't have a ticket, so I had to sneak in and find a vantage point under the bleachers from where I could voyeuristically participate in the action. It was magical. Tight end passes, getting the pigskin to receivers on a fly pattern, the occasional end-around play: it had it all! The proverbial icing on the cake was that the Cheerleaders' Section was directly above, which did anything but make yours truly want to split.


Needless to say, from that point on I was hooked on football. And hookers. Okay, just kidding about the hookers.

And so I was off. To Arizona. Never actually made it though, since as it turns out, at night it is "Bat Country".


In the end, I ended up watching the Giants upset the Patriots at home, in the sans-clothing comfort of my den. And now football season is over, and again I am feeling a sense of loss. Maybe I should get into volleyball.



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