But the Commercials Were Pretty Disappointing

February 9, 2007 at 1:28 am | Posted in football (american), whitney | 1 Comment

Even though they represent the same things and consist of mainly the same activities, I enjoy the Super Bowl way more than Thanksgiving. For one thing, the occassional uncle and grandfather will show up, but it’s nothing compare to the cousins-under-six fest that makes up the screaming-that-they-would-rather-have-ham-and-take-those-purple-things-out-of-the-salad Thanksgiving crowd. Two months later, come Super Bowl Sunday, we’re ready to celebrate some psuedo-America Pride while stuffing our faces with food that isn’t necessarily good for us, minus all the pretensious bullshit. To me, the Super Bowl represents something far more American than pretending we’re thankful for anything but a chance to sit on our asses and eat dip. I’m the black sheep in my mostly overweight but insanely active family because no matter how hard I try, I really just don’t care at all about football (as evidenced by my previous posts), but I join them for the Super Bowl.

I used to think it was because of the food. Contrary to rational thought, we never have junk food in our house, so growing up this was one of the only days we could indulge on things like Ruffles, seven layer bean dip (even though olives are so sick), and red vines. OMG. That shit’s great. (In similar fashion, my roommate’s family eats shrimp cocktail every year and even though they hate football, they look forward to this ritual). But this year, we didn’t have time to make it to the grocery store after our trip to the cabin, so in order to avoid walking more than 50 paces on the Sabbath, my mom desparately whipped up some Crystal Light lemonade and dried apricots and called that junk food?

But I watched the entire game. My sister wanted me to help her film her high school morning announcements and I threw a little fit about getting back in time for kickoff. (worth it, actually)

I’ve decided that this is because of my 20-something desparation for tradition and ritual. I don’t participate in much of that. I don’t wrap my Christmas presents, or wear green on St. Patrick’s, or do the whole church thing, but I love Saturday morning bowling, and evening trips past five other gas stations to get soda at the Chev. Pulled out of all other family ritual, I like grabbing onto something distinctly American and participating in the frenzy. Yes, Prince was sort of silly and played cover songs and oh man is he a tiny little guy, but, as a country, we can eat that shit up. Not because it’s necessarily entertaining or excellent or anything like that, but because of ritual. The Super Bowl seems to have an aspect of carnival, as players are permitted to slam into each other, dance after touchdowns, and kind of make fools of themselves, and the rest of us can dress up in ridiculous costumes and forget about our jobs and school and whatever. Of course, we do this while sitting in rigid class structures, but…whatever. I like it. That’s all.

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  1. I never thought about the Super Bowl being another version of Thanksgiving, but it’s so true. Only everything about Super Bowl Sunday is better than Thanksgiving: better food, better football, and more enjoyable family time. It’s my real Thanksgiving.

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