Super Bowl XLIII (That's 43 For Those of You Illiterate in Roman Numerals...aka Me

I’ll be honest this blog came as a bit of a struggle for me. I know what you’re thinking, just blog about the Super Bowl. But, saying to just blog about the Super Bowl is like saying just go organize a black tie event for 1,000 people for tomorrow evening, run a marathon, climb Everest; the Super Bowl is simply bigger than me. It is such an obvious topic, but also one of the hardest to blog about.

So, naturally I kicked around different ideas. Blog about the commercials, analyze the game itself (now there’s a thought), or focus on something only loosely related to the Super Bowl: the Puppy Bowl. Essentially the Puppy Bowl is an alternative for people that enjoy pets more than watching grown men pummel each other (aka old single cat ladies). Broadcasting off of the Animal Planet, the Puppy Bowl is the Super Bowl for puppies complete with a play-by-play announcer and a makeshift mini football field. After describing this idea to my God fearin’ “no cursing in this house” mother, she replied with, “that’s retarded.” That idea was quickly axed.


Admit it, the Puppy Bowl sort of looks like fun. Photo from Flickr.com

Finally, a light bulb went off in my head and I said to myself, “Why not do something journalistically correct for once and take notes during the game so you actually have a basis for a blog?” My genius never sleeps. This seemed like a grand idea until I got a few beers into the game and taking notes went out the window.

But, I did manage to scrap together a few coherent thoughts so here is Meredith’s Social Critique of Super Bowl 43:

• Why do they make the players say their place of matriculation during the game? I mean, obviously they don’t say “matriculation” they probably word it more as, “Where did you spend a semester Majoring in Basket Weaving before getting drafted?” And what about those players who didn’t attend college? What are they supposed to say? My favorite response was the player who said “Swagin’”. Not quite sure what he meant, but I know it was amusing.

*And, on the subject of the players, can any of them articulate? I pride myself in being fairly fluent in English, but they might as well have been speaking in Ebonics because I couldn’t understand any of them.

• If the Super Bowl could be won by whichever quarterback Meredith finds most attractive, Kurt Warner and the Cards win. Big Ben looks like he’s taken one too many hits to the face and Meredith Roethlisberger just doesn’t have a nice ring to it.


Kurt Warner looking less than masculine but never the less, swoon. Photo from Flickr.com


• Apparently “fights” are called “skirmishes” in the NFL. Because nothing is more manly than getting into a “skirmish.”

• Cardinals’ Steve Breaston may not grow up to become the greatest name in football, but he will always have the funniest one.

• Highlight of the game? Half time. The appearance of Bob Costas on my TV screen was enough to send me into hysterical little girl shrieks. I was fairly certain they locked him away and only let him out for two weeks every other year for the winter and summer Olympic Games.

And just because I know you all watch for the commercials……..

*The advertisement for the TV show Chuck tomorrow night in 3D? Lame. I’m sure Chuck in 2D is bad enough.

• The Mr. Potato Head commercial. I don’t know what it was for, but I got the chills when it came on. Not because it was especially moving, but because I had a run in with Mr. Potato Head in my youth and Mr. Potato Head was almost victorious as his lips got stuck in my throat and I almost choked to death. Oddly enough in this commercial Mrs. Potato Head lost her lips. Well, she can’t blame me this time.

• Conan O’Brien Bud Light commercial? Sort of hilarious.

• The NBC promo for their Monday night line up. I love ads where actors lip sync some cheesy rock hit. Gets me every time.

Oh, and if you’re wondering why I didn’t talk about the half time show, it’s because there is no need. I’m from Jersey, Bruce Springsteen is from Jersey, and therefore Bruce Springsteen is a god. And I may not be a math wiz but Bruce is approaching 60 and looking suspiciously young. Botox anyone?


The Boss. Photo from Flickr.com

Congrats are in order for the Steelers though. Thank you for winning the Super Bowl, mostly for my former roommate Brent, one of the biggest Steelers fans I know. If it wasn’t for him making me watch the Steelers’ games every weekend, I probably would know zilch about the Steelers and wouldn’t have cared nearly as much about this game. Well, ok he didn’t force me to watch them; I was mostly in it for the savory snacks he provided. So, thank you Steelers for bringing Pittsburgh, Brent, and myself eternal happiness.


Yum junk food and sports, two of my favorite things. Photo from Flickr.com