Super Bowl Weekend Review

February 4, 2008 at 12:55 pm (The Easy Chair)

I always feel better right after calling in sick. Maybe because the pressure is off?

I tried, dammit. I spent the whole weekend in bed, or sitting up next to it. It gave me lots of time to watch videos, movies, sporting events. I would have written more, but I was shivering so hard it took forever to type anything. After being up half an hour, I called Grinder and begged for mercy. He was understanding. “It’s been going around.” I promised to try again tomorrow, although if I don’t feel better by then I’m going to the doctor.

All this sick talk is getting me down. How about we discuss some of the things that occupied my mind while laying there, sweating/shivering in the dark…

Might as well start with the big one, the Super Bowl. Although I was rooting for New England, New York deserved to win. Their defense smacked New England around, containing the freight train. Tom Brady probably looks like a ripe apple run through a clothes dryer, and little brother Manning has bragging rights for the year. Good for him!

Commercials? I wasn’t that impressed, but did enjoy the Fed Ex one with the large pigeons. The Macy’s Parade floats fighting over a Coke was good, too.

I saw a few movies.Too lazy to fish out DVDs, I made use of OnDemand, Encore, etc… I watched an Indy Channel documentary about extreme sex in cinema, which featured a lot of my favorite movies. (Gee, imagine that.) Everything from Woody Allen to John Waters to Catherine Breillat.

I saw Quiz Show, about game shows in the ’50s. As much as I wanted to fall asleep, I kept one eye open through to the end. Another one I’m surprised I hadn’t seen before.

I saw Welcome to LA, a film produced by Robert Altman. I saw this at Cinemagic when I was about 15. I had the soundtrack, with Keith Carradine and Richard Baskin. (With all that whining, I’m surprised ‘something’ didn’t happen to that album. Mom had patience, sometimes…) Lots of Southern Comfort, a shirtless Sissy Spacek, a full-on nude shot of Geraldine Chaplin, (that’s no Hitler’s mustache!) Denver Pyle as a dairy mogul who looks more like a movie agent, and Harvey Keitel, blonde and repressed, as his heir-apparent. It captured the self-importance of the ’70s, but I kept waiting for something to happen. They hook up, go their separate ways, life goes on. I spent two hours watching this- why?

Of course, there was the spectacular Blazer game against the Knicks. I saw the rerun of this a couple times. I was watching the background for one of my regular readers and his buddy who used to write for the Portland Tribune. They had a boy’s night out, and were supposedly seated behind the team benches. Every time the camera would pan, I would get a blast of vertigo trying to do facial recognition. It might help if I had a better idea what they looked like.

And now, I’ve been up about an hour. I think that’s long enough. Time for another nap.

Figures. I finally take a Monday off, and there’s no Monday Night Football. I guess there’s gotta be some penance…

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