Man, oh, Manning

I think we were halfway through the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl (can I say SUPER BOWL in a blog? Or do I have to say THE BIG GAME?) when Liam pointed out that I could win a bunch of bucks in my dad's pool if New England got the ball back and ran a touchdown but didn't have time to kick the extra point.

BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.

I can't stand the Patriots. I used to like them, but I think any team (coach) that has a perfect record and CHEATS is not worthy of anything but a t-shirt that says in big block letters: "I WENT TO THE SUPER BOWL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS T-SHIRT."

Bill Belichick has so little class he thought (maybe?) he was doing a noble thing by walking on the field with seconds left in the game, but he left his team high and dry while they had to go into formation while the Giants knelt for the last play. The damn coach left his team. I hope Belichick eats some tainted lobster tonight and has the runs for a week. Fucker.

If there were any other team in the Super Bowl, I probably couldn't have cared less. But when I see that guy's mug, I want to ram a heavy 35mm camera body into his head. light. Yeah, into his headlight.

We made pizzas tonight and the kids had a good time. We were all up later than usual, but it was worth seeing Plaxico weep on national television.