A Confession

I have to confess to being triggered yesterday!  Of all days!  Superbowl Sunday hasn't been a drinking day for me in over 20 years.  Sure, in my last couple of drinking years I drank on Superbowl Sunday but hell, I drank EVERY damn DAY then so it was nothing new or special.  Other than that, Superbowl Sunday (even when the Redskins were playing...oh...wait...that's been over 20 years too) hasn't been a real party hardy day for me in a very long time.

But "back in the day" we used to party very hard on this football day of days.  In the beginning we either had a party or went to someone's house where we all sat around and whooped and hollered at the game, laughed at the commercials and drank way too damn much and cried when Whitney Houston sang the Star Spangled Banner.

In later years, we started a HUGE football pool that was $1000 per square.  At first we just paid out the entire lump sum to the winner.  Then we decided to split it up by quarter and take some of the cash to throw at ginormous Superbowl party at a local restaurant for anyone who was in the pool.  Since a lot of people bought squares together, there was usually a pretty big crowd.  Not gonna lie...it definitely made some memories.  As part of the founding group, the hubs and I would get there early with some of our other friends and start the festivities (translation...start drinking before everyone else got there).  Then we would eat and drink and watch the game on a huge screen TV (WAY back before everyone had one).

In a word...it was fun.

But that was a long fucking time ago and I was sick of it 20 years ago!  The hubs and I had kids and after that, we needed to be home on Sunday's to get ready for the next week...Superbowl not withstanding.  In fact, I remember one Superbowl Sunday we spent in the emergency room with a 2 year old Brian who had gotten dehydrated from a stomach virus (thank God I wasn't drinking at home back then).  That was one of the time's I told the doctor he didn't know shit from shineola and followed my own gut instinct...I was right.

But I digress...

So if I was all past the drinking and carousing of Superbowl Sunday, why in the name of fuck's sake was I consistently thinking about those parties and what a cold glass of White Zinfindel would taste like?  White Zin?  Really?  I haven't like pink wine since about 1990!

Hey Sherry...they 80's called, they want their wine back.

ANYWAY...of course I swatted those thoughts away with a smirk, a WTF and a shake of the head.  After all I'm used to them and they don't bother me any more, but whenever they come around I'm left thinking what the hell caused them?

Was I tired?  No.  In fact I was energized from a beautiful day.
Was I depressed?  Nope...I'm medicated for that.
Was I hungry?  Hardly.  It was Superbowl Sunday yo.
Was I angry?  Only at the Broncos...but that doesn't really count since they aren't the Redskins.
Was I lonely?  Nope...even Matt was home for dinner.

Oh well.  I'll just chalk it up to "one of those things".  Like a snap that flies over the head of the quarterback and shifts the mojo of a game in the first three minutes. 

You know...one of those things.

Namaste