Noone's Perfect

Forgive me if I'm too gleeful in the loss the New England Patriots received last night in the Super Bowl.

I'm a closet football fan. I didn't even watch the game. I don't watch the games most of the time, because it sends my nerves spiraling into chaos, but what I do watch is the score, and that I watch every 3 minutes.

Last night was a killer.

However the outcome was just as I wanted it to be.

Several of those last 18 games played by New England were won by last minute luck. Well their last minute luck ran out last night.

So if you don't mind, I'm still doing a happy dance, and if I hadn't consumed my one beer, Sam Adam's Cherry Wheat, at dinner, I would have broken open my last Purple Haze in celebration last night.

Nope, I don't like New England at all.

I do however have one nagging thought. What loving set of parent's names their son Eli? And why do I have that stupid Three Dog Night song stuck in my head. Oh you know the one I mean. Eli's Coming!