Sure I might whip up some wings and maybe a taco salad or some potato skins, but for this woman?
I'll be parked in front of the television for all four quarters of the game.
Eating, yelling, burping and maybe even a little fart or two. Just for effect.
Most likely I'll be wearing my cow pants, sans the cow slippers. Unfortunately they passed on a month or so ago. I cried. I miss them still.
My hair will be mussed and unless I keep on the makeup I wore to church, there won't be any of that either.
I asked the Kitty Princess if she was going to watch the game with us. Here's how that conversation went.
Me: Are you gonna watch the game with us Sunday?
Her: I don't know who does Dad want to win?
Me: The Giants.
Her: Who do you want to win?
Me: The Pats.
Her: I'm going out.
It'll be fun and games in the Riley household Sunday for sure!
|Not me on Superbowl Sunday.|
|Me. Superbowl Sunday. Except with more non-equipment type padding.|