Sunday, February 01, 2004

Super bowl XXXVIII, Mini-journal, last entry (probably)

Finding a super bowl mug proved more of a headache than expected. I foolishly assumed we could stop by anywhere to find one. One Walgreens, an Eckerd, a Randall’s, and two Kroger’s later one finally turned up. Six dollars and ninety-nine cents. A measly three remained on the display shelf. The girl at the check-out let it hang loosely from her forefinger while announcing my total. I pictured it crashing to the floor. The grocery store was stuffed full of fans securing a surplus of chips and beer. We gave in to the buzz of excitement and bought baby carrots, hamburger meat, and fudge brownie mix. We would have plenty to eat while flipping by the game. Stopping to check the score and view the wacky commercials every so often. On the drive home from the grocery store I secretly wished we liked football. That we loved football and had tons of football-loving friends and cases of cold beer to enjoy it with; a feeling which last only minutes. Ironically, the neighbor across the street has all of this. In fact, a large assortment of his friends is assembling in his garage right now. I stepped out onto our balcony to sneer at them, commenting loudly on their taste in beer. I briefly poked my head inside for a taste of freshly made brownies. After burning the roof of my mouth I returned to my bird’s eye view. The garage door is now shut. I guess they didn’t appreciate my heckling. These are wealthy grown men for crying out…oh wait, it’s open again. I wonder if they actually thought shutting it for five minutes would work. No matter. I’ve just been informed that I’m not allowed outside for the remainder of the evening.

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