It's America's unofficial holiday (fuck you, Groundhog Day), the single good thing about February (seriously Groundhog Day, you can fuck right off), and the only day of the year where you can get openly drunk on a Sunday night and not face the possibility of a lawsuit, pink slip, or intervention on Monday. The Lord's Day? Not this February 7th, it isn't. No, it's Super Bowl Sunday!
As the Indianapolis Colts get set to do battle against the New Orleans Saints in Super Bowl XLIV, you've decided that never again will you watch this magnificent sporting event in a pitch black room with a half-empty bottle of scotch and loaded pistol as your only companions. Move aside, overwhelming sadness and brooding depression—this year you're throwing a party! And it will no doubt be an affair filled with good times, good people, and lots of fun for all.
Or will it?
Not so fast there, buddy. Having hastily decided to throw a Super Bowl party, you must now take the good with the bad. Who could ruin all the fun for you and your fellow partygoers, you ask, on this, the most sacred of days? Well, that would be the partygoers themselves. Here's a list of five people to keep an eye out for during your Super Bowl party.
| The Die-Hard Fan |
How to spot him:
He's wearing a Jeff Saturday jersey that's two sizes too small and allows nearly every strand of his man-fur to seep through. Also, taking the idea of a "playoff beard" eight or nine steps past the point of reason, he clearly hasn't showered since the playoffs started. He's currently encrusted in a layer of sweat, hard liquor, and—oh sweet Jesus—is that blood? Yikes.
What to expect:
Even though the game doesn't start until six, he arrives at your house promptly at noon to watch all the pre-game shows. Seriously, who the hell watches six hours of pre-game coverage? This guy, that's who.
Also most likely to be "Guy Who Blocks the TV at Inopportune Moments."That's okay, because you want to believe he'll just sit quietly on the couch and watch the game peacefully once it begins. But you're making a goddamn fool of yourself just by thinking something that ridiculous. This man will be terrifyingly intense prior to and throughout the entire game, scaring the other partygoers into a shocked and shushed horror. His delightful antics will include having to be physically restrained by other guests after he puts his foot through your Playstation 3 because the ref blew a pass interference call. You'll also find him running aimlessly in your backyard immediately following the game, unleashing a profanity-laced tirade skyward while reverting back to an animal state.
Did his team win? Did it suffer a humiliating defeat? Only the Heavens above know for sure.
| The Guy Who Has Never Watched Football in His Life |
How to spot him:
By the puzzled and delighted look on his face when he watches the big men run around after the tiny ball. He'll also probably be wearing slacks. Or a beret. And if he does get into the spirit and is wearing some football gear, it's going to be something along the lines of Aaron Brooks jersey, instantly earning the fury of every real fan in the room. "What's wrong with it? It was on sale!"
What to expect:
On the complete opposite of the spectrum from the Die Hard sits the GWHNWFIHL, also known as "The Guy Who Only Came for the Commercials." This partygoer sits silently and smugly on your couch showering the room with contempt. He considers himself your moral superior because he prefers the Tour de France to the Super Bowl, a nice glass of Shiraz to a Sam Adams, and showering every day to whenever the state makes you go to the unemployment office. Basically, that son of a bitch thinks he's better than you!
He will scoff his way through the game and express his excitement for the 2010 Winter Olympics because "that's what real competition is all about." He'll also eschew the four Super Bowl food groups (meat, cheese, salt, preservatives) and show up with some oddball dish in hand that no one would ever associate with football, fun, America, or good taste. Good job, buddy, nothing says Super Bowl like, "Hey everybody, I've got fresh baked strudel!"
| The Girlfriend |
How to spot her:
She'll be wearing a pink Tom Brady jersey (because of course she will) that she (or, more accurately, her boyfriend) bought that day not because she's a fan, but because "he seems really nice" (translation: he's dreamy).
What to expect:
Just as everyone is settling in for the big game, inevitably one of your buddies will sheepishly wander into the party silently mouthing the words "I'm sorry" to everyone as they do. That's because behind him is his girlfriend—the one who hates sports, you, your buddies, and fun in general. Despite all this, there was no way she wasn't going to show up to ruin your party. And while he'll tell you he brought her because she's really into football and will fit in with the guys, the "ugh, sorry guys. I had to bring her or else I wouldn't get to see her naughty bits for the next two weeks" look on his face tells the real story. Remember this when you're considering who to invite to that Vegas trip you're planning in a few months.
Over the next three hours, she'll refer to at least one team (or both) as the "Indianapolis Celtics," only stop talking to her girlfriend on her cell phone about the latest episode of Jersey Shore long enough to roll her eyes at you and your antics, and get upset when people don't want to discuss Avatar with five minutes left in the fourth quarter of a three-point game.
On the plus side, she'll bring her hot single friend to the party. The hot friend who wears the form-fitting jersey of a defensive lineman and who can spot a holding call before anyone else. She'll also be the one who suggests everyone go outside and toss the football around at halftime, even though it's 25 degrees outside (that's right, I live on the East Coast. If you live on the West Coast, where you can go play touch football at halftime in 75-degree weather, well, you can go to hell. You can go straight to hell). So you go outside and you play football, where she gets flagged for a 15-yard penalty. A 15-yard penalty for excessive sexiness.
Oh wait. I'm sorry, that girl doesn't actually exist. Sorry to get your hopes up. You're going to die alone.
| The Compulsive Gambler |
How to spot him:
When it becomes apparent that the spread won't be covered, you'll look at him and think to yourself that you've never seen someone sweating so much in your entire life. And then, that maybe you should take a second to hide your valuables.
What to expect:
For some, the excitement of the game itself isn't enough. For some, including at least one of your guests, the excitement of the Super Bowl comes from only one source: a sketchy Korean bookie. In between complaining about his fantasy football team's playoff loss three weeks ago and the $500 prize that went to the winner, he'll be talking about how stupid the Saints were for going for a field goal when he needs a touchdown to win his "squares" pool this quarter.
He also has detailed charts on every player, which walk the thin line between "informative" and "creepy," leading to this exchange:
You: I think the key for the Colts is getting their tight ends involved early. The Saints have trouble covering tight ends.
Him: Not gonna happen. Dallas Clark has a high ankle sprain that's been bothering him.
You: What? I didn't hear anything about that. How do you know?
Him: He doesn't close his blinds.
You: Oh. Wait, what?
Him: (ignoring the question, focusing on TV) Brees throws for another 63 yards in this quarter and I'm up two bills!
You: (terrified silence)
And don't think he's only betting on the game. No, he's also freaking out about the prop bets he made. Two days ago he was convinced he'd be moving to Cabo with all his winnings. Now he's in tears because the coin toss came up heads and The Who didn't include "Sister Disco" in their halftime set. What happens when some of his bigger bets don't pan out either? Ever see a grown man scream "Noooooo! They're gonna take my thumbs! They're gonna take my thumbs!" as he weeps uncontrollably in a bathtub? Well, you have a front row seat for that spectacle this Sunday. Again, hide your valuables.
| The Guy Who Clearly Confused "Super Bowl Party" with "Party" |
How to spot him:
Well, for starters, it's 5:15 on a Sunday night and he's drunk. Not just buzzed, flat-out, Wolfman drunk. Still not able to pick him out? Okay, fast forward to the third quarter. He's the guy sitting in a puddle of his own urine. Think you can pick him out now?
What to expect:
Who cares that it's Sunday night and everyone has work in the morning? This guy came to party! He doesn't understand why you can't just turn off the TV and put on some tunes or why his pleas of, "Hey guys, let's play a few rounds of beer pong," are met with scorn.
It's two hours before the game and while everyone else is drinking soda, he's drinking beer. It's the second quarter, people are drinking beer, and he's switched to hard liquor. People want to do a couple shots to celebrate their teams' stellar season after the game and he's no where to be found because he just snuck into the garage to mix a little cranberry juice and gasoline. You know, just to take the edge off. Not only will you have to clean up for all your sober guests, but you'll also have the pleasure of finding this drunk—now most likely shirtless (or worse)—passed out in your bed after he drinks himself unconscious. Have fun with that.
You know, on second thought, maybe booze and a firearm aren't the worst companions in the world for the Super Bowl after all.