In the spirit of full disclosure, here's an invitation I sent to my friend Nibble Mark, who had been sick of late.
Feeling better? Bettered? Battered? Buttered?Well, he should be here any minute now. The hockey game's starting. My money's on the Habs, of course. Smart money will stay clear of this one.
It's Super Bowl weekend, which means it's legal, just for one day, to overindulge in fatty, sweet, salty and poppy foods and drinks to the point of heart-attackism - and, on Super Sunday, it's illegal for your heart to attack! (from what I have gathered through 42 years of watching the Big Game and having seen it evolve from a sporting event into one of ultramegasuperconsumerism - and from the way Homer behaves on any Simpsons Super Bowl Specials)
This takes place around suppertime, 5 or 6-ish, and lasts until 8 or 9-ish because the Half Time show will likely feature some has-been showing us a bit of skin to try to outsell Britney Spears (I'm hoping for Tina Turner, would settle for Beyoncé, praying it's not Sting - last year was McCartney, John Lennon's old retarded chubby friend)
Not to be left out, Les Habitants battle the Bruins at 2PM to make it the Ultimate Couch Sporting Event of the weekend. Which means I'll be making some spicy chicken wings and/or purchasing fried chicken from a place I love. Doritos might try to come in my house as well, but I'm not sure the Tostitos-mozzarella cheese-actual Mexican salsa combo who are picketing in front of my oven waiting for execution will let them. There are rumours that squishy candies will make an appearance, but this has yet to be confirmed by their PR commitee.
I just thought it could be a good time to come see your new TV (still awaiting your manly touch in my basement) and mooch some food so I don't gain a thousand pounds (of muscle) from this Sporting Event. Bring a friend - I have none myself.
This being that, the Invitation is now lauchned into cyberspace, cowboy. Let me know if you're interesting (as the Chinese say).
Le Seb
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