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February 3, 2004 #
 Mr. PIB is a welcome friend at any party. [Teendrama] When media friends on deadline come trolling for quickie quotes about something (in this case, Super Bowl parties) you put on your no-thinking helmet and imagine having the stomach/mouth of Baltimore Colt legend and Falstaffian gormandizer, Artie Donovan. Then you feign sincerity about the holiness of football just long enough to forward-lateral a phrase like "God created gameday for one reason: food." Fortunately, food is one of the few things I can expertly comment on. I was interviewed by email for this Fox News article but the answer to the first question below is the only quip that made it in. The rest are stale, cold leftover turds. 1. Are you serving low-carb alternatives at your SuperBowl party? If you walk into my Super Bowl party carrying low-carb beer you will be promptly covered in popcorn, dry cereal, bagels, pretzels, and Bud tall boys. 2. What do you think of football fans who shun pizza, beer and other high-carb treats 'cause they're watching their waistlines? The only waistlines football fans should be watching are on the sidelines cheering and dancing retarded Rockette numbers. God created gameday for one reason: food. 3. Do you think the Super Bowl is a good excuse to indulge? The Super Bowl defines who we are as Americans, and by that I mean over-indulgent fat slobs. 4. Who are you rooting for in the game? I'm rooting for myself, I usually pass out by halftime. 5. Do you have any friends who drink low-carb beer? If so, why are they your friends?! All my friends drink Zima. Note: Of course I was never organizing a Super Bowl party in the first place and regrettably couldn't make the one I was planning to attend. So my roommate, her dog, another friend, and I half-watched the game while getting high-carbed on beer and Dominos pizza. Delivered in under 75 minutes! The "another friend" offers this post-game analysis: Report from The 125 Bathroom. Due to liberal amounts of Bud and Coors light (liberal amounts by a Sunday-night-have-to-get-up-at-5-a.m., at least) I spent some quality time in the pissoir of 125, where I went one and two (well, farting at least) every five minutes it seemed. While trying to maneuver, I read one-handed the JCrew catalog that I found atop last month's Vanity Fair, which I wisely deemed too heavy to heft with the left hand (the right being busy picking rust flecks from the heating pipe I poorly sanded a few months ago). Time spent was hot, as the bathroom roasts its occupants at a sultry 101 degrees. I found out later my urine was red not because I had a tract infection but because my eyes were melting in their sockets and bleeding onto my cheeks. (1. Other things learned: I do look fetching in a bright rouge. 2. Some of the products in there are not meant for the sphincter.) Archives "The Other Page" powered by Removable Hype. RSS. Copyright © 2003 La Otra Página, Inc. All nights observed. Feel free to email "info(at)krucoff.com" for questions, comments, stock tips, and family gossip. |
