Everybody got some last night, except for me. I was a lingam without a yoni; a Sonny without his Cher; a Catholic priest without his alter boys.
But that's okay. Tonight is another night!
Super Bowl Parties began in earnest in good ol' Houston last night, and everyone seemed to be on their best (read: worst) behavior. The drinks were a-flowin' and the breasts were a-bearin', but it seemed like no one really know what was going on. I sure as hell didn't, but it didn't matter too much.
Of course, this is a party--in the loosest sense of the word--so somebody is eventually going to foot the bill. Who might this generous benefactor be, you say? Why, that would be the kind citizens of Houston, who, perhaps unknowingly, paid for the following Super Bowl spruce-ups:
1) Washed storefronts along the ENTIRE length of Main Street.
2) An underperforming, poorly planned light-rail transit system.
3) Ridiculous amounts of overtime pay for the HPD officers who gallantly staged a massive "clean-up effort" on our fair city's streets.
4) More and more which we're surely not privy to right now.
So...you still like the Super Bowl?
Well, yeah.
I guess I do.
GOD BLESS AMERICA!
*salutes flag*