In my last post, I said I saw MacBeth with what’s-his-name. I meant the actor. I actually went to see the movie with my bestie, who is far more important than a what’s-his-name title.
SO, there’s that.
So, some super evil malware attacked every single website I had on my hosting plan and we’ve been spending MONTHS sorting that out so I haven’t been blogging and the Salinger site is still blacklisted by Google and there’s a whole thing I have to do to get it to work but this site is backup and I’m committed to blogging on it. Apparently with run-on sentences.
I’m freelance writing again, have been since 2013. I got married in May. I’m working sometimes with a rockstar who is an eCommerce arbitrage merchant. And by rockstar I mean a bona fide one. But he’s a super nice guy and a good boss so who cares about all that rockstar business?
I went to see the new MacBeth, with whats-his-name. It was pretty good. Ima blog about it soon. It wasn’t perfect.
I am going to write on this blog pretty often.
I realize that the news that I am freelancing and that I got married come as a surprise to anyone who doesn’t interact with me personally since I never blogged about working full time instead of freelancing OR getting divorced, but we’re skipping all that in the interest of it’s not stuff I want to blog about and moving on to the now.
So that’s all for now. I was embarrassed that my last post was Super Bowl 800 years ago, so here’s something fresh with all the run-on sentences you can digest.
muah, readers. Let’s have some fun.
The title of this post is what I considered for a Facebook status update today, because I like to joke about my sportsball ignorance and general obtuse approach to all things sport-related. HOWEVER, it is Super Bowl Sunday and lots and lots of people have told me that, so I can’t pretend not to know. I mean, the PREACHER at CHURCH mentioned it last week. That was actually the first I’d heard of it, other than the being alive 37 years and living in America.
But, just in case you find yourself facing a Sunday in February and NOT knowing that the Super Bowl is on that day, here are some great ways to know that it is, indeed, Super Bowl Sunday.
1. Your Social Feeds are Full of It
You avoid the feeds if you DVRed your show, so if you’re looking to NOT know it’s Super Bowl time, avoid the social media world. Because in addition to people just casually mentioning it, there are people (believe it or not) who actually CARE WHO WINS. They’re, like, rooting for teams and stuff.
2. The Grocery Store
- Frozen chicken wings
- Raw chicken wings (some people are ambitious)
- Tortilla Chips and Salsa
- Hell, who are we kidding, all the chips
- Solo cups
- Paper plates
- Soda pop
- BC Powder
- Bleu Cheese Dressing
If your grocery store is out of these things all at the same time, there is a good chance, it’s Super Bowl time.
3. They Talk About It On Legitimately Newsy News Outlets
It’s on GMA. It’s on CNN. It’s all over the other networks. There’s a human interest story on cnn.com. NPR had something snarky to say (http://www.npr.org/2015/02/01/383036419/super-bowl-day-ready-for-17-and-a-half-minutes-of-football0. They’re all talking about it. But you know that second, because you checked Facebook first. It’s not like it’s a fake plane crash or a Bigfoot story. Super Bowl time is really here.
4. You Can’t Get A Drink in A Bar
Whether you’re a social person who goes out to be social in bars or a person who randomly thinks, “hey, it’s totally uncharacteristic of me but I think I’ll go get a drink in a bar,” Super Bowl Sunday is problematic. Unless you’re going to watch the game, you go way early, and you have a DD who won’t mind if you sob into your wing-stained fan jersey later in the night – either because of your team’s loss or because you just don’t understand that Katy Perry person. You’re really kind of relating to those Russell Brand interviews, so you just sort of wonder what’s wrong with her. If you’re just going to a bar for a drink? Pick another day. The bartenders and waitstaff are stressed to the max, rabid sportsball fans are experiencing extreme mood swings, and the smell of cheap beer, Buffalo sauce and despair are thick. Just stay home.
So, happy Super Bowl to those of you who care about the sportsballing. For those of you who don’t, I hope you’re not in the mood for wings.