I hate the Saints, and can more than appreciate the symbolism in that statement. I had some money involved in a Superbowl pool and came so insanely close to getting 400 bucks out of it, only to be snatch away by an interception and a forth quarter upset. I went to a Superbowl party in Williamsburg. Almost everybody was buzzed when I got there. A couple games of pong and stop pre-gammed the big game. I shook off my temporary sense of responsible drinking from the prior night, and dove into PBR and Keystone. The fanciest we got was Coors. That was saved for half time.
Speaking of half time there was a choice between honey auburn and a golden blonde. As I mentioned there was no dark beer, but I went for the lager of a woman. Most everybody was doing their own thing and I had this one served up on a silver nacho platter. We went outside and everything was still, grey, and quiet. I pulled out a smoke, held it to my lips for a moment, I decided against lighting it. I offered it off to the brunette in question, and lit it for her. She inhaled, and gave it back to me. I just waved it off. I then said I would be right back. This is when I decided to wander around for the next ten minutes before going back in for the game.
