Super Bowl Hangover Anyone???

I blew off writing yesterday because I was a bit hung over. Or, as my Spanish girlfriend’s mother says… hanging over. I got up to clean my place and do my laundry and ended up on the couch watching Netflix movies, so today I am going to make up for it by posting twice, the second time being the wedding that I got to style back in January. But for now, I word about Super Bowl Sunday…

I love any holiday that gives us lazy, yet hardworking Americans an excuse to party and drink. We have more “Holy Days” than the English and Irish do combined. Maybe that is because most Americans are English or Irish (or have a little of each in them??) We have all sorts of ‘Holidays.’ Of Presidents and  great orators, religious days, not so religious days ie; Memorial Day and Veterans Day and my personal favorites, Cinco De Mayo and St. Pat’s or course! We get a lot of days off to sit around with family and friends, drink beer and tell tall tales. Now we all know that most of these days are not holy in any way whatsoever. But alas, there is the Superbowl.

The Superbowl is the holiest of holy days to a lot of Americans. Just not my guy. He’s by far the proudest American I have ever met. He’s an Arkansan via Texas, an ex-marine and he loves women. Oh wait, that just makes him a man…

I like to call this man, “The Redneck.” I love this man with all my heart. He’s fun and funny. Loves to party and go out to dinner. He’s romantic and treats me like a queen. People love this guy too, he can make friends anywhere he goes, but he can’t stand sports! As a matter of fact he is the “dumb blonde” of sports. He gets a home run confused with a touchdown, seriously! So this weekend the girls at the new salon invited us to their Superbowl party. I didn’t want to ask The Redneck if he wanted to go because I could just imagine the look on his face, but I did because I really wanted to go. I said sheepishly over a lot of wine, “We got invited to a Superbowl party and if you don’t want to go I understand, but think of it this way, its just another excuse to sit around and drink… so it will be fun??” And he replied with a steady, “My love, if that is what makes you happy I’m all for it.”

We brought booze with us which wasn’t needed because believe me, these girls know how to party. We ate, we drank, we were merry. I introduced The Redneck to a few of the guys there who didn’t really give a shit about football either and they talked about other things. The Redneck is good at small talk. But my favorite part of the night was watching him jump every time a fumble or touchdown was made. That poor man jumped OUT of his seat every single time! We were in a house full of men and women who really do think that Superbowl Sunday is the holiest of holidays and they were all huge Packer fans… it was LOUD!  I thought it was a good game even though I’m not a fan of either team. I like sports and know enough about most sports to hold my own. I grew up in a household where every time a foul was called or a fumble made, my father would slam his hand down, shout obscenities at the television and stalk off for a cookie. Then he would calmly come back and continue to watch the game. So I know how incredibly silly people can get when they are rooting for their team. Not my guy. He just doens’t get it. He’s not a pansy by any means. He just grew up drawing and hunting and listening to music and thats Ok with me because at the end of the day he opens the car door, whispers sweet nothings in my ear and always makes me feel like the most important girl in the world. When The Redneck got off work yesterday he came by to let me know he had a hangover all day and that was music to my ears, at least I know he had a good time.

I can’t wait for baseball season to start…


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