What Have I Become?

I watched the Super Bowl this year.  From beginning to end.  I haven't been interested in a few years and I quickly remembered why. 

The NFL is devoid of likable players, for starters.  When they're not shooting up night clubs or running people over with their cars, they're standing around with their mouth hanging open looking like they have yet to produce even one human thought (I'm looking you Eli) on national television or marrying super models (what a cliche, Tom).  The Patriots got caught cheating.  Eli Manning is a sniveling brat.  It's hard to watch that kind of behavior being celebrated.  Plus the game was boring.  They'll have you believe that these guys are out there playing to win it all because they care about the game and the thrill of victory or whatever, but the truth is they get a huge pile of cash just for being in the game.  And that huge pile of cash is on top of the huge pile of cash they get even if they don't win a game all season.  For those of you whose memories don't go back far enough to remember the summer of 2011 (I know, that was a long time ago), this is the same humongous pile of cash that the owners and players were fighting over last year and that fight almost resulted in a strike that would have cancelled the whole season.  Whew!  Good thing they got that sorted out.  The last thing we need is for these moronic malcontents (to be clear, I'm referring to players and owners) to be less outrageously wealthy. 

And not only did I have to watch these jokers tediously sling the ball down the field for three hours, but then there were the lackluster commercials sprinkled throughout.  They weren't good this year.  But then, were they ever?  Who the hell is getting excited about commercials?  Maybe this year was worse because you could watch them all online before the actual game.  Kind of defeats the purpose of paying a trillion dollars or whatever the cost has gone up to for that thirty seconds of airtime, doesn't it? 

Then there was half time.  It was sponsored by a tire company.  Flashy.  Nothing says once-a-year, largest-audience-ever-in-the-history-of-television event like being sponsored by all weather radials.  Then an animated wax figure that sort of resembled Madonna slowly cartwheeled around the stage.  It was unbearable.  There was a middle finger hidden in there somewhere, or so I heard.  I didn't see it as I had already passed out from boredom by that time. 

C and I used Super Bowl Sunday as an excuse to eat a lot of junk food, drink beer and sit on the couch all day, which was fun.  But I just assume watch anything else while doing it. 

A couple weeks later, I watched the Grammy's.  What a train wreck.  Thankfully, it was recorded on the DVR and I could fast-forward through the parts that were terrible.  I watched Adele.  And that was pretty much it.  Beach Boys - fast forward.   Chris "Assault and Battery" Brown - fast forward (TWICE).  Sir Paul McCartney who, incidently, appears to have recently celebrated his two hundred and eleventh birthday - fast forward.  Niki Minaj's satanic cult ritual - fast forward.  The guy from Rhinestone Cowboy - you get the picture. 

Next is the Oscars.  Am I going to subject myself to that steaming pile of hog shit as well?  Probably.  It might not be terrible.  But if it is, I'm going to have to really start wondering if these events that I've never found so disgustingly unenjoyable in the past are actually getting worse as the years go on, or is all of this distaste just part of my evolution into a grumpy, constantly complaining old man?


**Update**

I intended to watch the Oscars (all 14 hours of them), however through devine intervention my DVR malfunctioned and did not record the event.  Miracles really do happen.

A (very tardy) Holiday Update: 2011 Edition

Well, we did it.  We survived.  This year's incarnation of The Holiday Season was not the most horrific on record, however it was still a challenge.  But, we persevered.  We made it through and now we can relax knowing that it will be 10 months before we have to do it again.  Here are this year's highlights:

Thanksgiving:
We did Turkey Day (I can't stand it when people call it that) Over Eating/Football Day at Mom and Dad's in Dallas.  The food was good, although in a move that shocked no one who is familiar with my family, we hand selected a $75 organic, free-range, antibiotic-free, hormone-free, non-genetically altered turkey who lived in a three story condo on the beach and received a shiatsu massage everyday of his life (until his untimely demise) and ... then we deep fried it in peanut oil. Why?  Because it's delicious.  Oh, you mean, "Why did we buy such an extravagant and expensive piece of meat when it was destined to taste like nothing more than delicious, fried deliciousness?"  No reason, really.

On an unrelated note, I turned 32 the Saturday after that fateful turkey frying extravaganza.  32.  We had a good time celebrating 32, but nothing as messy as 30.  Never again (hopefully).

Christmas:
Late December was a doozy this year; C's dad turned 65 the weekend before Christmas, so we made two trips down to the family lake house in as many weeks.  They're a nice bunch, but for some reason they refuse to use the dishwasher.

C's dad:  "Why do we need a dishwasher if we have you?"
Me: "Seven adults living in one house, eating three meals a day at the kitchen table, that ends up being  a lot of dishes."
C's dad: "Better get to work, then!"

Thanks, father-in-law.

Not that it would matter anyway.  Christmas is a time for the "Special Plates" to be used at every meal.  There are two sets of "Special Plates".  I'll let you guess how many of those sets are dishwasher safe. One set is made of pewter and the other set is older than I am.  Give yourself a hand if you guessed zero.

Me: "Why don't we use the dishwasher safe plates for, like, one meal a day?"
Father-In-Law: "It's tradition to use these dishes."

It turns out traditions are very important to the people who don't have to clean them.

So there I am, up to my elbows in everyone's food scraps scrubbing each antique salad plate and pewter serving dish three times a day.  Alone.

There is another son-in-law who you would suspect would be sharing in my sudsy agony, but he has a propensity for staph infections and can't risk having is face swell up like a balloon because he got a paper cut and then dunked his hands in some grimy dishwater.  So, because I have a fully functioning immune system, I get to wash by myself.  Hooray for being a modestly healthy, normal human with the ability to fight off minor infections!

Also, get some gloves, bro.  Problem solved.  On second thought, I'll get them for you.  Merry Early Christmas, I'm going to play Nintendo.

New Year's Eve:
I know we're getting old.  The most recent example was a conversation C and I had in late December.

Me: "What are we doing for New Year's?"
C: "Dunno.  Go out?"
Me: "Ugh, all those people.  Impossible to get a cab..."
C: "Stay in?"
Me: "I mean, it IS a single-person's holiday, but we can't just NOT do ANYTHING...right?  Right...?  Riiiiight...?"

Luckily, we were saved from our own lameness from some good friends who invited us over to their house for an amazing dinner and tons of wine.  Our delightful hostess roasted a 10 pound, bone-in prime rib and it was pretty spectacular.  We drank bottle after bottle of my friend's prized wine collection, which I felt bad about, but they were so delicious and he just kept opening them, what was I supposed to do?  It would have been rude not to chug them straight from the bottle.

We had a great time, watched the ball drop and when it was all said and done, we had stayed up later than the pregnant girl who was there, but not as late as my friend's 90 year old grandfather (who we had expected to go to bed early.)  He showed us.  And that goes to show you: you're only as old as you think you are.