Living on a Prayer

When I was about 7 years old I became HUGE fan of Bon Jovi. I would go over to my best friend Myla’s house and watch MTV (a luxury we didn’t have at the Simmons household). Whenever the female lead in the video came on, we’d throw pillows at the TV because we were so in love with Jon Bon. Our next door neighbor was a bit of a regular on the hairband concert scene so to this day there are still neighborhood rumors that she had a party with Bon Jovi at her house (there were definitely tour buses that would show up parked outside her door every so often). Each summer when my mom and sisters drove down to my grandparent’s apartment in California, I’d faithfully listen to my New Jersey cassette, all the way from Bellevue to San Jose.

This is what Bill has to put up with.
This is what Bill has to put up with.

Needless to say my love for Bon Jovi has persisted through the years, so whenever they come to town I’m normally first in line to buy tickets. This year, for their Circle tour, I missed the ticket sales opening…and when I went to buy tickets it was sold out. The Jovi Gods were smiling on me though, and they added a second show. Except this time when I went to buy tickets they seemed so damn expensive I decided to pass. Luckily Bill, vying for the title of “Best Fiance EVER”, surprised me with a pair of tickets for Christmas. He even let me bring Jenny instead of him, pretty much making him a LOCK for Best Fiance EVER.

So last night Sister Simmons and I suited up for a night of the Jovi. I dusted off my leather pants (no, seriously, they actually had dust on them), closed my eyes, sucked in my stomach and prayed they’d still fit. Surprisingly they slid on with ease (but later in the night…not so much…they got all warm and sweaty. Not sure how those rock stars do it. They must have roadies dedicated to getting them out of their pants at night. ha. HA. HA.)  With a few extra swipes of lipstick and mascara, to look my Jersey best, it was off to meet Jenny for the concert.

Here's a taste of my leather pants (sorry, the plunging neckline wasn't appropriate). Not the most flattering on the ass, but still, you do what you have to do for Jovi.
Here's a taste of my leather pants (sorry, the plunging neckline wasn't appropriate). Not the most flattering on the ass, but still, you do what you have to do for Jovi.

We got down there early and secured free parking (a good sign of things to come) and headed to the bar. With a little trepidation (I mean, I was wearing leather pants and a shirt with very little fabric up top) we went to Ten Mercer and dove into two V&T’s (for regular Seattle Sessions readers, let me just tell you this guy got them right. They were DIVINE). In classic fashion, I drank mine a wee bit fast and started talking a wee bit loud, making Jenny a wee bit embarrassed (recounting the Walter Kelly story to her…it was some good comedy, what can I say?). Before long I looked at my watch and realized it was 8pm, and the opener, Dashboard Confessional (a strange, weird, unusual choice for Bon Jovi), had gone on at 7:30. We dashed to Key Arena, and found our seats (quite decent, lower bowl, near the back of the arena).

The stage set up was pretty sweet. It was set about 1/3 of the way into the arena, so even though we were at the back of the arena, it didn’t feel like my dearest Jon Bon was too far away. At 9pm, the lights went down and the crowd started screaming (Bon Jovi fans can scream. There were moments that they had the camera closeup on Jon’s face and he just looked…amazed….like it was still 1989 or something. We are a rabid group.) and out came the band. In a “I couldn’t have dreamed it any better” moment, they opened with one of my FAVORITE songs, off my beloved New Jersey album, “Blood on Blood.” I can’t imagine they play this too often in concert…it’s a pretty random song (addendum: I just checked setlist.fm and it’s really not that rare of a choice. AND I apparently missed out on them covering “Hallelujah,” which they did at the Friday show. GRR.). I was just rocking out, dancing, singing along while most everyone else in the section is looking around going “Do you know this song?”.

The hair. The smirk. The lust burning inside of me.
The hair. The smirk. The lust burning inside of me.

The concert progressed with complete awesomeness…it was a good blend of older and newer, with people obviously most stoked about the older. Still, newer songs like “Have a Nice Day” and “Who Says You Can’t Go Home” got the crowd going. Plus the songs off the new album were pretty catchy, and I’m not exactly a huge “new Jovi” fan. The guy next to me was as into it as I was (Which is saying a lot. Imagine those girls at the bar who drunkenly rock out to “Livin’ on a Prayer.” Yeah. That was me. The whole night.).  The band took one very short break between their encore, but other than that were swiftly efficient, which, now that I am old, I appreciate in a show. I was a little bummed the encore had only 3 songs, but it ended with “Livin’ on a Prayer” which was done fantastically- tons of energy, psychotic crowd, cool video background of people all over the world singing the song.

As we left the arena and I got back to my car, I pulled my phone out of the glove box. It was beeping with a text message. I flipped it open to the astounding message from Myla (my partner in pillow-punching Jon’s video girlfriends): “Uhh…about to go backstage at Bon Jovi. Are you at the concert?” Never. Leaving. Phone. In Car. AGAIN.

Sessionista’s Highlights: Leather pants (me, not Jon sadly), “Blood on Blood,” “I’ll be There for You,” “Someday I’ll be Saturday Night”(with a blues twist) and fab V&Ts @ Ten Mercer.

Sessionista’s Lowlights: PLEASE, as if there would be a lowlight at a Bon Jovi concert. Well, except not playing “Blaze of Glory”…Jon, you can’t do that to me. And the dude who was farting near us. AND EVEN THAT COULDN’ T KILL MY BUZZ.

Your Jersey Girl (For One Night Only),

The Sessionista

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Walter Kelly is Smashed on a Train

On Tuesday morning when I checked my email, I started laughing. “Walter Kelly is Smashed on a Train” was the title of an email from Bill, reminding me of our last day at the Olympics. Rewind 24 hours…

Bill and I woke up at Wes and Lynda’s 100% refreshed after getting to sleep in a BED. Well, maybe not a  100%. I was feeling it from my 3 generous pours (the last of which came from a box apparently). We picked up the SkyTrain and headed back to the city. We didn’t have any events but I was looking forward to walking around downtown and seeing the torch. When we got back to the house we found the house full again (always my cue to leave) so Jenny, Dan, Bill and I headed downtown to show Jenny and Dan Robson Square then to go take a look at the cauldron (it sounds so evil…).

Bill, Stealing my Limelight. I'M THE TV STAR, BILL.
Bill, Stealing my Limelight. I'M THE TV STAR, BILL.

At Robson we found the usual…crowds of people milling around not really doing anything. I did get to see some people take the zip line (hope they enjoyed those 30 seconds). As we were walking by the BC Pavillion, I saw a guy with a camera looking to interview people (ever since my famous Taco Time moment, I’m always on the look out for my next big break). When he said “Is anyone from Seattle?” Bill volunteered to speak to him. Turns out he was from Evening Magazine (um, hello, if John Curley was still doing it I’d have SEEN my chance at  fame and beat Bill to the punch). After a brief interview (which translated into this soundbite, aired a few nights later: “The activity is just incredible.” We can’t all have catchphrases like “it’s the cheese and sour cream” now can we?), we decided to walk down to the International Broadcasting Center (or IBC for those in the know) and look at the torch.

All week long my dad was bitching about how it was behind a chain link fence, which didn’t seem that big of a deal. Then we got down there. Not only was it fenced, the fence was about 100m (did you notice how all my measurements are in metric in these blogs? Totally unplanned, but apparently Canada has had an effect on me) from the torch so it just looked all sad and lonely.

Plotting it's chance to break free from prison, the torch slowly simmers.
Plotting it's chance to break free from prison, the torch slowly simmers.

Bill and I thought our train left at 6pm, so we got lunch with Jenny and Dan at Steamers, potentially the biggest restaurant I’ve ever been in. It felt like there was seating for 500. Jenny and Dan were staying another night, so after lunch they headed off to visit LiveCity Yaletown while Bill and I caught the bus back to the house. At this point we didn’t have event tickets (you ride free with an event ticket for the day) so I’d perfected the fine art of putting on my Canada mittens and covering up the event date on our old tickets every time I boarded the bus (positive that they were going to bust me, which wouldn’t be a big deal minus the fact I of course went to Canada with no Canadian money, treating it like America Deux. Then I realized the Canadians are generally too nice and probably aren’t going to kick me, who was clearly visiting for the Games, off of public transportation).

When we got back to the house we decided to actually check our train tickets, only to discover it didn’t leave until 7:40pm, which made a lot more sense. This time we didn’t have first class so we had to slum it with the poor people. Kidding. In my opinion first and regular class were exactly the same, minus the fact they didn’t give me a $3 discount at the bistro car.

Before we left the station, I went to the bistro car to get a mini haggen dazs. As I was waiting in line, there was a guy at the end of the bar asking for a beer. The bistro car guy was like “We can’t serve alcohol until we pull out of the station.” The guy started getting all belligerent and was like “What…I can’t get a beer? Man, I need a beer…” I headed back to our seats, which were in the car that was connected to the bistro car. Bill and I started up a lively game of Go Fish with my Care Bear cards (Bill won 5 games straight. How is that even POSSIBLE?). 20 minutes later the woman across the aisle starts waving at this guy who is sort of stumbling along the train aisle. She’s like “Hi Walter!” Walter plops down in the seat in front of Bill and is like “You know my name?” and she says “I’m from Seattle, of course I recognize you. They [us] are from Seattle, too, the know you too.” I’m like “Uh, no, I don’t know you…” as he’s shaking our hands and we’re introducing ourselves. When he turns around, Bill starts Googling who the hell he is as he’d introduced himself as Walter Kelly. The name sounded sort of familiar to me when suddenly I was like, “Oh god, it’s the Q13 Fox weatherman.” Bill’s Google search has by this time pulled up this as the first entry ‘”Walter Kelly is Pure Evil!”. I have to control my laughter since he’s right in front of us, and the woman is acting like Brad Pitt was sitting across from her.

Imagine sitting behind a drunk version of this guy for 1.5 hours.
Imagine sitting behind a drunk version of this guy for 1.5 hours.

The best part is Walter Kelly is also the same guy who was demanding booze all night from the bistro car. In the next 45 minutes, we are lucky enough to be treated to Walter’s life story, the fact that his wife is Canadian (helpfully mentioned 13 times). We also see him fuck around with the Customs Agent who boards our train at Blaine, who is 100% not amused by him. In short, he’s wasted and it’s relatively hilarious (although the funny factor was already over when we got to Bellingham, I would have shot myself if I had to listen to him all the way to Seattle). This is a guy who came back to his seat carrying 3 beers at once. I mean, I’ve seen someone double fist it, but 3 seemed a bit much. My favorite quote of the night, when asked about his recent move to evenings: “Man, morning was something else. Anything goes. Evening is like ‘it’s going to be 50 and cloudy.'” There you go. From his mouth to god’s ear, or whatever the saying is, Walter Kelly tells it like it is. On Q13 Morning News, anything goes (vision of him getting in front of the green screen and just windmilling his arms about screaming “Today’s weather is going to be FUCKING WILD!” or something.

So ended our big Olympic journey. It was very fun, very sleep depriving and very… Canada. Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee (well, I do, in my new Team Canada sweatshirt and mittens). See you in Russia.

Ciao!

The Sessionista

Spectating at 144 km/h

Sunday dawned bright and early at 6:00am when Jenny and Dan knocked on the front door, bringing Simmons Olympics HQ to near-bursting. Comatose, having gotten home after midnight the night before, I started muttering”Is someone knocking?” and then in true sisterly fashion failed to get up and actually open the door. Luckily my dad was up to let her in, considering she’d left Bellingham at 5:00am and drove right up to the border (all lanes open. At 5:30am. Our tax dollars hard at work.). 20 minutes after Jenny arrived (and then promptly left the house in favor of SITTING IN HER CAR. No one ever said Simmons Olympics HQ was welcoming) my dad tried to set the home on fire by incinerating his toast (let’s just say we were hoping the Brinks security system didn’t automatically call the fire department, as we frantically swung the door open and closed while an ear-splittle whistle shattered the 6:30am peace).

Realizing I was going to get no more sleep, I got showered and escaped to Starbucks prior to leaving to the luge. We had to buy bus tickets to take the Oly bus up to Whistler, and when we got to the ticket station (inexplicably NOWHERE near where you get on the bus) one of the five volunteers that were standing around helpfully mentioned that “the last bus” was supposed to leave at 9:30am (current time: 9:53am) and he was going to have to call and see if there was still a bus around to take us. As he radioed up to where you actually pick up the bus, we stuck our credit card into the super helpful bus ticket buying kiosk, which, prepare yourself for a brilliant idea, only let you buy one ticket per credit card swipe. Time-wasting at its best!). We then RAN, literally RAN up a giant hill to catch the bus and made it just in time.

Wet and disgruntled, we arrive at Luge.
Wet and disgruntled, we arrive at Luge.

I took the opportunity to nap on the 2 hour bus ride to Whistler which made the trip go by VERY fast. Once there, we went straight to the luge track, marking the only time I’ve been to Whistler without seeing the village. I was a little doubtful of luge- first, someone DIED there a mere 2 days prior. Second, it didn’t seem like a good spectator sport. These guys are moving at over 140km/h at the end of the track. My head does not spin that fast. Plus when we got there it was a total deluge, even on the mountain. Just pouring rain. So we went to the warming hut for a few minutes and the rain lessened before we headed up to the track. We found an awesome spot at turn 14, where they’re going plus 120kmh, and immediately started a competition as to who could snap a picture of a luger first (Bill). Then the sun came out and we wandered around and found different spots along the course and finally settled for awhile on a spot AFTER the finish, where they were braking. Which allowed us to get pictures, wave, throw pennies on the track (kidding about the pennies, but it did make me nervous how easily a child or evil adult could chuck something on the course…). Bill had to keep elbowing some guy out of the way who spent the entire time talking on his cellphone and smoking. Dear sir, please go ruin someone else’s Olympic experience (side note: we saw the same guy walking down Robson the next day. In a city with millions of people we saw the same irritating guy. Amazing.).

Good thing Dan stuck his Flip Video into my shot. See? Lugers. Close. I kept waving my Oly mittens in their faces.
Good thing Dan stuck his Flip Video into my shot. See? Lugers. Close. I kept waving my Oly mittens in their faces.

After luge we saw Bill’s mum for a few minutes and then caught the bus back to Vancouver as Bill and I were meeting up with a group of friends from my days at SonShip. In a true nod to my “worst guest ever” status, we were approximately 3 hours late getting there. This time on the bus ride home, I was lucky enough to be treated to a Cultural Olympiad video that was on a loop. Curious how long the video was? 15 minutes. The bus ride was over 2 hours. You do the math. Percentage of people who wanted to kill themselves when they got off the bus? 100.

Bill and I caught a break on Sunday night- after arriving 3 hours late to Wes and Lynda’s, Lynda still loved us enough to invite us to stay at their house for the night. It took me approximately 1.5 seconds to agree to that idea. A bed? A private bath? PRICELESS. After 3 glasses of wine and a massively good time with old friends, I slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep preparing for my last day at the Olympics…

The Joy of Victory, The Agony of Defeat

On Saturday afternoon, Bill and I headed over to Pacific Coliseum to watch what was turning out to be a premiere event…short track speed-skating. As usual, it was raining so we bundled up for the 1.5 mile walk to the Coliseum which was really a mere .25 miles from the house, sans the intense, crazy, people-wrangling system VANOC had set up. After walking opposite the venue for 20 minutes we finally found our way to the security line, where we stood in line another 20 minutes, before being examined by someone who looked like they were pushing 18. Lucky Bill got a special little “massage” when he kept setting the sensor off.

Is this the face of Olympic terrorism? That's what one volunteer thought.
Is this the face of Olympic terrorism? That's what one volunteer thought.

Venue problems continued once we found our way into the Coliseum. Question: How do you get to your seats when the access point for your section is entirely roped off for accredited people only? Answer: Enter 3 tunnels away and crawl over 100 people. This was actually the volunteer’s response when I asked how she expected me to get to my seat: “We’ll just need you to pick a row and start making your way over. We’re working to resolve this.” Apparently somehow NO ONE managed to notice this little issue prior to the venue opening? Really? THEY STAGED AN ENTIRE GAMES AND DIDN’T NOTICE THIS MASSIVE LOGISTICAL PROBLEM? Not one to make waves, I carefully slid by everyone’s toes, clutching my food, muttering “I’m REALLY sorry about this…”. One section through, I saw a whole free row of seats (Miracle! I won’t have to trod on anyone!) and started walking across this blessed seat tundra, only to hear a furious, clipped Eastern European-accented voice start berating me, “You can not be here! Stop! You are breaching security!” I looked around to find out who the hell was yelling at me, and saw a stern-faced volunteer (the only volunteer that I encountered, in the entire 96 hours I was there, that was not dripping smiles and sunshine. It’s like they gave them happy pills along with their turquoise volunteer jackets.). I said, “Well, I’m seated in section 8, so I don’t know how you expect me to get there.” To which he delivers this lovely Eastern-block response of “That’s of no concern to me. You can’t be there. You’re a security risk.” Yes, me, in my fuzzy red Olympic mittens, holding two pork sandwiches, is quite the risk indeed. I stand there, looking incredulous, watching him steam with irritation until he furiously mutters “Just move! Just keep walking!” Which I do. All the way to my seats, which are about 4 rows shy of the ceiling.

A victorious Ohno shows goes all American on the Canadian crowd.
A victorious Ohno shows goes all American on the Canadian crowd.

We settled into our seats and watched short track speed skating which is super fun since there are bound to be tight races and crashes. Plus, both Ohno and J.R. Celski, both from Seattle, were on hand. In the marquee event of the night, the men’s 1500m finals, we got to watch Ohno wrestle his way to near the front of the pack, only to be bumped by one of the Korean skaters. Luckily he caught himself, but lost precious seconds, leaving him back in 4th place. On the last turn, in a pure “Oh my god, this is why sports are so awesome to watch live” moment, the 3rd place Korean, greedy to pass his teammate in 2nd place, loses and edge and takes both himself AND his teammate out, leaving room for both Ohno and Celski to cross the finish line in 2nd and 3rd. Yay America!

After speed skating we took the bus downtown to try and see Wilco at LiveCity Yaletown (one of the major Olympic entertainment venues). We found a 45 minute line, so we ducked into a little restaurant serving “the best mexican food in town.” Except when we got there at 10pm, they were only serving drinks because according to the proprieter, they ran out of food at 6pm! And it smelled SO good. I slammed a Growers (hard core, i know) then we headed back downtown to Robson St where they had roped off the streets, turning much of the popular city roads to pedestrian-only. After standing behind the CTV local news booth, waving and cheering and doing the “look at me! look at me!” thing that everyone does when they’re in the background of a shot, we ate some street meat (GOD, i can’t even BELIEVE i did that) and then went back home, exhausted and looking forward to getting to sleep past 4:00AM.

Mmm...nothing like a good street dog.
Mmm...nothing like a good street dog.

Oh, Canada.

For the sophisticated patrons of the Bellingham port station.
For the sophisticated patrons of the Bellingham port station.

Last night Bill and I caught the train from Bellingham to Vancouver to spend a weekend at the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics (If I was fancy I’d whip out the roman numerals and the official title. But I’m not.). We thought we were being all stealth and cool by driving to B-ham, grabbing the train and beating all the poor bastards stuck at the border, only to discover, as we chugged by at a cool 40mph, that the border had no wait. Literally, there were two cars making there way across the line, meaning that we’d just spent $180 and an extra 1.5 hours to avoid a traffic nightmare that never developed (damn you, media, for invoking fear!!). I was only appeased (ask Bill) by the fact the house my parents are renting didn’t have space for more than one car.

(Sidenote regarding the whole train thing: I’m not a fan of public transportation, but the station was pretty nice, and most of the people looked normal. But as I went into the bathroom I heard the sounds of someone who sounded like they were trying to hack up both their lungs. I did my business and on the way out shared a look with a fellow patron (mine saying “I want NOTHING to do with what is going on in that stall.”) who looked slightly concerned. Later I saw the Offender, who looked like she was dragging a New Jersey landfill behind her. I looked at Bill and stated “This is why I fly everywhere.”).

We made it to the house in time to catch the U.S. coverage of the last hour of opening ceremonies, since NBC is kind enough to tape delay, by HOURS, an event that is happening a mere 140 miles north of Seattle. I’d say thank god for Canadian coverage but Canada, in its infinite wisdom, is broadcasting its primary coverage on cable. Yes, cable. CBC, I loved you so…

The benefits of watching the local feed, though, made themselves clear when I saw Jean Enerson doing a live post-Ceremonies feed dressed in a dead bear. Apparently she thought Vancouver was in Siberia. Meanwhile Dennis Bounds, her co-anchor, was wearing a suit, with no jacket. It was like there’d been a massive pre-on-air fight with Jean screaming “NO, I won’t give in to this weather, by god, it’s the WINTER Olympics and I shall dress for it!” whilst Dennis just shrugged and said “Fuck it, I’m wearing a suit and looking good.”

Woke up this morning at 4:00am when my dad’s friends’ alarm went off. Why could I hear it? Because I’m sleeping on a blow up air mattress, with two other people in the same room and another two people sleeping above me in a loft. Welcome to the Olympics! With 3 hours of sleep under my belt, I joined everyone in getting ready for a day at “normal hill” ski-jumping. One small problem: 7 people and only 6 tickets.

Since we’re based in Vancouver, we had to take the bus up to Whistler Olympic Park (poorly named since you don’t get anywhere NEAR Whistler when you’re there…) so we tried to do some international ticket scalping at the bus lot (after driving in squares, trying to FIND the lot. Zero signage, ZERO. Oh wait, there was one 20″x24″ sign with 18 point font stuck to a stop sign. Tres helpful, VANOC.). Driving into the lot, I KNEW we were going to be, in the words of Canada, hosed. There was a small trickle of people waiting to get on what seemed like 100 buses. People looked at us blankly as my dad held one finger in the air (a symbol recognizable to ANY U.S. sports fan….but potentially a rude gesture in some cultures…) and I half-heartedly chirped “One ticket, we’re looking for just a single ticket….” while holding MY pointer finger in the air (except it was clad in one of the awesome official Olympic mittens so you couldn’t really tell).

My Olympic experience so far.
My Olympic experience so far.

After 15 minutes we gave up. Following a spirited argument about who would stay behind, with me volunteering (secretly knowing I’d get to go back to sleep and have the house to myself for 6 hours…)…I headed back to the house (thank god I’d made copious mental notes about HOW to get back to the house), where I proceeded to pass out on the couch for 4 hours, then watch ski jumping from the warmth and comfort of  Simmons Vancouver HQ.

Note- I just jumped out of my seat and ran across the room to see Sweden score first on the Canadian womens’ hockey team. Yes, this is why I love the Olympics. Women’s hockey, a game I couldn’t care less about, just had me running.

Bill and I are headed to short track speed skating tonight to see if Anton Apolo Ohno can secure his spot as the most decorated American Olympian with a win in the 1500m. So while we only officially got one set of tickets to the games, at least it’s for what is turning out to be a major event! And it’s 3 blocks from the house.

Ciao!

The Sessionista

Super Bowl Running Diary: Sessionista Style

Welcome to The Sessionista’s Super Bowl Running Diary. Which means there will be a lot of comments on commercials and clothing choices, with a sprinkle of football.

3:15pm: And we’re off! We’ve just switched on the TV and Queen Latifiah is fiddling with her monitor which can’t be a good sign. “Ufh.” Fiddle fiddle. Good thing she’s singing “America the Beautiful” and not the “Star Spangled Banner.” Was that grunt just to prove she was live? After that performance I bet she’s wishing she was pre-recorded.

3:21pm: Carrie Underwood is dressing like she’s still on American Idol. Those white pumps are making me cry. She is clearly not a fan of the whole “no white after labor day” thing.

3:30pm: Emmitt Smith fumbles the coin toss. Nice.

3:38pm: For the record, I am rooting for the Saints only because of Katrina. I know, I’m quite the fan.

3:42pm: Indy 3, Saints 0. Oh well. You know what that means- commercial time!

3:42pm: Bud Light “beer can house” commercial: Not funny. Snickers: The Betty White thing is creepy. And such an easy mark.  Ok, wait WHAT? Second tackle in a commercial in a row; this time it’s Tim Tebow tacking his mother. GOD, I hope this isn’t a sign of how bad the commercials are going to be.

3:45pm: HA. Hyundai SONATA. And they’re playing famous sonatas. Get it? Ha. Ha. Ha. Boost Mobile: If i knew more about old football players this may be more funny. Doritos: Evil dog with anti-bark collar. Funny, mostly because the dog reached behind its head and unhooked its collar with some very fake looking paws. So far the commercials suck arse after two breaks.

3:49pm: Ooh! The Who are performing at halftime. Yay.

3:50pm: Did Drew Brees play for Purdue? Hmm. Looks like he still does.

3:53pm: Ok, i have to admit i am excited about Robin Hood. Although why is Cate Blanchatt Maid Marian? Hasn’t she already been every major female historical character? Can’t she SHARE? Bitch.

3:54pm: AGH! The guy from the Dharma Initiative! IN A BUD LIGHT COMMERCIAL! Still wearing a lab coat i see…

3:55pm: With 4:17 left in the first, the Saints looks like they’re really not interested in winning. I wonder if I switch my allegiance to the Colts it would help them…

3:56pm: Ahh..the Doritos Super Bowl Today Halftime Report…that really rolls of the tongue. Thank god they added the “today,” I was confused about when it may be…

3:59pm: Penny hates football and has alternately run upstairs to the bedroom and hidden under the couch.

Too bad this wasn’t on NBC so I could see promos for the Olympics instead of NCIS.

4:00pm: Uhh.. i just got a quick peek at the Colts cheerleaders and they look to be wearing chaps. And it’s not flattering. And I want to point out we’ve gone one whole quarter and not a single grratuitous (or non gratuitous) Kardashian shot.

4:01pm: Oui, oui Garcon….nice TD reception.

4:02pm: Oh Coca Cola…I always love your commercials. you can even make Mr. Burns happy! Oh GOD, more godaddy.com commercials… Do they spend ALL their money on SB commercials?

4:02pm: I’m ashamed to admit i actually want to see Undercover Boss.

4:03pm: Apparently Doritos and Bud Light are the only companies with cash for commercials this year…Wait, BEAVERS! my fave so far since i love animatronics!

4:07pm: In case you re curious it’s 10-0 Colts. I am sort of watching the football part of the game, too. 🙂

4:08pm: Um…another commercial??? This time with Shamu, apparently a shameless rip off of The Hangover.

4:11pm: 10 pts is the biggest super bowl comeback ever. So if you’re a fan of stats… the game is apparently over one quarter in.

4:14pm: I am totally making hot dogs during the halftime show.

4:15pm: Bill is wrestling with the dog, which is more interesting than this game.

4:17pm: And even though Brees tried to prong it in,  the Saints are on the board…10-3 Colts.

4:19pm: Um…The Budweiser human bridge is no Clydesdales playing football…Bring back the horses, Budweiser.

4:20pm: leno\oprah\letterman on a couch having a Super Bowl party…See, it’s funny, because they all hate each other. But they are having a party together. So it’s funny. Get it?

4:21pm: Back to back pants-less commercials for Career Builder and Dockers? WTF is going on? Was that random? It sure cuts down on the first one’s funny-factor. And why the eff is Dockers advertising during the Super Bowl?

4:22pm: Ok, at least Favre is finally making fun of himself.  Like we all are. And apparently shilling for Hyundai.

4:27pm: I’m going to say it again. The commercials suck this year.

4:31pm: Well, the Saints look a lot better. But what’s up with the guy on the sidelines with the big red coat that says “SAFE”?

4:32pm: …And then they lost 7 yards on a really poor reverse.

4:33pm: …And then they make it to the 3 yard line. It’s like when I talk shit about them they do well.

4:34pm: EXTREMELY creepy shot of Peyton Manning with a Hannibel Lecter-esque grin on his face…

4:38pm: Something tells me most men are not going to make their “last stand” with a Dodge Charger. Ooh! 2 minutes to hot dog time!

4:41pm: FINALLY. Some midgets. Damn, these commercials were missing midgets.

4:42pm: Too bad the play Sean Peyton “really believes in” was also the play the Colts were really ready for. So still 10-3 after all that.

4:43pm: OOH! Mike Hart of Michigan! There he is…not getting the 1st down…

4:48pm: At least the Saints are finally making this game slightly more interesting.

4:50pm: 10-6 at the half.  I’m going to make hot dogs, so if Pete Townsend flashes his nipple during the halftime show I’m going to miss it.

5:18pm: And we’re back from my halftime hot dog hiatus.

5:21pm: Bill is calling for an onside kick to start off the half.

5:21:05pm: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! They just kicked one!!! Bill totally called it! He’s spitting chili dog at me screaming “I just called that!!!!”

5:22pm: Kendra Wilkinson’s husband should have actually had that onside kick recovery, but looks like the Saints finally wrestled it away. Cue shot of disappointed Kendra…? No. This Super Bowl is apparently a celebrity-free zone. Wait, did I just call Kendra Wilkinson a celebrity?

5:27pm: TOUCHDOWN SAINTS! Bill is now screaming “go for two,” trying to prove he’s Madam Cleo. Wow. It’s 13-10 Saints. 13-0 run!

5:30pm: I can’t believe it took VW this long to make a punch buggie\slug bug commercial. Ha! Stevie Wonder is a nice touch. Alright, I like the Denny’s Free Grand Slam commercial too…Like I said, I love animatronics. Fake chickens! Fun!

5:32pm: Apparently there is some confusion about how many onside kicks have happened during anything other than the 4th quarter. We now have the announcers calling each other out on the accuracy of their stats. I mean, as if Jim Nance just came up with that off the top of his head. Hello, blame the stat guys and the producers feeding him this shit instead of calling out your fellow broadcaster, Phil.

5:37pm: Colts are driving down the field…so for all my poo-pooing, this is turning out to be a decent game, minus the 1st quarter. And it’s 16-13 Colts.

5:38pm: Um, did the Colts cheerleaders lose their chaps in favor of loincloths?

5:40pm: Apparently Lance Armstrong drinks Michelob Ultra. And chats up men at the bar.

5:42pm: GREAT, the talking baby from E*trade is back. I have to admit, i try and resist it but it’s kind of funny. “Milkaholic.” I mean, that’s kind of funny.

5:46pm: “I see a guy that looks concerned about his ankle.” Priceless sideline reporting, as usual.

5:49pm: And Harkely makes Super Bowl history with 3 FGs outside of 40 yards… 17-16 Saints

5:51pm: The long awaited Google commercial is pretty good- showing us something we all know and recognize in a cute, new storytelling way.

5:52pm: “50 years ago was the first time the Goodyear blimp debuted”… “Are you SURE Phil? SURE it wasn’t 53 years ago???” I think Phil and Jim secretly hate each other.

5:58pm: The NFL is using the “Where the Wild Things Are” song for all their commercials…”Woooahhhhh ohhhh ohhwoahhh ohh ohhh…”

5:59pm: Acura has taken to advertising concept cars? Seems a bit of a waste.

6:00pm: Would this game be better if I actually REALLY cared who won? It’s a one point game and I’m not exactly on the edge of my seat, which can be illustrated by this conversation between Bill and I during the game:

Bill: “The poop bag used to say ‘poop happens.’ Now it says ‘whew… I’m pooped.'”

Me: “No, I think each bag always said different things.”

Bill: “Really? I thought they all said ‘poop happens’…Are you sure?”

Me: “Noo…”

6:05pm: And the FG is no good… 17-16 for the Saints still!

6:06pm: Man, where did the great “lemme upgrade, lemme lemme upgrade” Beyonce DirecTV commercials go? Those were the days…Unintentional comedy that could elicit real, honest-to-god laughs.

6:07pm: And we have the stupidest commercial so far: Emerald Nuts/Pop Secret, with people acting like dolphins and doing tricks for nuts and popcorn.

6:13pm: OK, I have to admit I was browsing Netflix for the last 5 minutes. Touchdown Saints, 22-17 after the bobbled 2 point conversion.

6:17pm: CLYDESDALES!!!! And a baby cow!!! I’m going to like this one, I can tell. Jump, baby cow, jump!

6:18pm: We have our first replay moment of the night… I think they’ll keep the play as called on the field. And….looks like I was wrong. Call reversed, 24-17 Saints. Apparently I’m no Bill with my psychic-ness.

6:21pm: Ooh look! Honda is actually producing the car that is merely a concept for Acura…

6:23pm: P-Manning just bunny hopped across the field for 30 seconds and still found an open receiver.

6:27pm: Wait, this Charles Barkley Taco Bell commercial may suck more than the Emerald Nuts commercial.

6:29pm: There it is. The pick. It’s been almost happening all night long and it finally did. I bet people in N’awlins are happy tonight! Big man 74 isn’t going to catch Porter. 31-17 New Orleans.

6:30pm: Peyton looks like he’s going to cry.

6:37pm: Not going to lie, I’m really a fan of the Denny’s screaming chicken commercials.

6:39pm: Please don’t let this game go into overtime.

6:43pm: C’est tout! The Saints are going to win! YAY! Final score, 31-17 New Orleans… 1st time champions, according to the helpful graphic on CBS.

And I’m signing off, and going to watch Undercover Boss once the halftime wrap up show is over. 🙂