My husband is watching the Superbowl. That's to be expected I suppose. Still, I want nothing to do with it, yet he wants me to just hang out with him in the same room and watch the commercials, which cost like 4 million dollars a spot.I arrived during the half-time show, just in time to see a singer named Katy Perry change into a lot of different costumes. At one point she was surrounded by dancers dressed as pieces of fruit. For the finale she was elevated over the crowd and carried around the stadium on some sort of platform like Peter Pan on acid while fireworks exploded around her. I wished so much she would fall. Not die or anything, you understand, just make it stop.
Now the game is back between the Cheaters who deflated the footballs and the Other Team. Apparently it is exciting, although my husband says he doesn't really like either team and so he doesn't care who wins. "Although we are in Patriot territory, " he adds. I have never understood why you are supposed to root for a team just because you live in that city or even only near it. I still love the Yankees even though I live in Maine now and we are in Red Sox country.
I'm just a rebel I guess.
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