Are You Ready For Some Football?

Sunday is the one day a year that I watch football. It will probably be the longest stretch of live over-the-air television that I will watch all year. Young Master Fussy has somehow gotten into the spirit of this quasinational holiday of mass consumption. He’s dismayed that the game happens on Sunday and that he has school the following day.

I explained to him that he wasn’t alone.

In the past, my carnival of excess has led me to say year after year that I’m too old for this shit. Monday mornings I’ve felt terrible. Actually, last year I felt terrible for the whole day. Heck, I felt terrible on Sunday night. But I kept on eating and drinking anyway.

It would be wrong to say that I haven’t learned anything from past experiences. I have. It’s just that the lessons I’ve internalized do nothing to solve the ongoing problem of my body being less and less able to recover from gastronomic abuse.

The lesson is tater tots.

Technically, I want to eat chicken wings while I yell at the screen, drink beer, and watch commercials. But I don’t want to go out to a bar. I don’t want to go to a party where people will talk over the game. I don’t want to go to a party where people will talk over the commercials. I don’t want to order wings and have them delivered. I don’t want to have to cook wings and be distracted from the game.

Frozen tater tots, on the other hand, require almost no attention to crisp up into crunchy tender nuggets of starchy bliss. And it’s easy enough to make your own Buffalo sauce with Frank’s Red Hot and butter. While it may not be wings, Buffalo tots really do scratch the itch.

Sadly, Trader Joe’s was out of tots.

On the upside they did have frozen hash brown patties, which are pretty much just giant, smushed tots. You know the old saying, don’t you? A giant, smushed tot is better than no tot at all.

Ooh. Maybe now that I’m thinking about it, instead of simply making the hash browns, I can make a Hoagie Haven style sandwich with eggs and bacon. I think I saw some pork roll at Whole Foods. If I recall correctly, that would be The PATH. Oh no. For that I would need a fried chicken cutlet too. Man, I miss that shop. It’s a shame I don’t have the right rolls, but it’s probably for the best.

The children are requesting barbecue Pringles. But we’ve got hot dogs, and plans to eat dinner in front of the television. I think our preparations are pretty much set.

Now all that’s left is to learn the name of the Seattle quarterback. Because if I’m going to be rooting for them to beat New England, I should at least know one of their players.