THE SUPERBOOOOOOOOOOOOWL. Yeeeeah! Go Ravens! Poor Jim! Ladarius! Jacoby Jones! Football!
I know it’s hard to tell because of all those buzz words I’ve thrown in, but I actually have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ll admit that I was pretty confused about what the Super Bowl was for a while; I thought it was Super BOWEL. It seemed strange to me that so many people were excited about the U.S. version of You Are What You Eat, but I just assumed it was because Gillian McKeith was going to be analysing Beyonce’s stool sample.
I literally had no idea what was going on last Sunday night but I LIKED IT. I don’t know what there’s not to like about the Super Bowl, it appeals to all. Men watch it for the sport and Beyonce “cutting a rug” (Destiny’s Child taught me so much), and women like it for Beyonce being all sassy and empowering and then the hunky men in lycra. In any case, it was all about biceps, bums and BEYONCE.
I’m going to say that again: BEYONCE.
I think the dialogue of men and women around the world was something along these lines:
Men: Go Ravens!
Women: I HOPE SHE DOES CRAZY IN LOVE
After that performance, the lip syncing scandal will soon be forgotten when people realise that all those Beyonces were not real. I repeat: ONLY ONE OF THOSE BEYONCES WERE REAL.
In my eyes, though, Queen Bey-Bey can do no wrong. Apparently her publicists are trying to get hold of some pictures of her making certain “unattractive” faces. I don’t know why though, I wish I still looked this hot when I looked ugly. Check these out:
This is what Beyonce would look like on a rollercoaster. Still hot.
As a mutant gangster robot. Still hot.
This is what Beyonce would look like, dancing to Beyonce, after getting really drunk on vodka and pepsi (from a can with her own face on). Still hot!
And it’s also nice to know Beyonce getting in a sneaky hollaaaa to the Hollywood Illuminati.
I think the most dangerous move was when she began dusting everyone with her hair. There was just a sea of hands desperate to grab it, as if just a touch of Beyonce’s hair meant people could give up and get trampled on by other crazed fans. They were literally able to die happy.
And just when you think it can’t get any better, Destiny’s Child return! Saywhaaaat! We all ignored the fact that Kelly and Michelle’s microphones were suspiciously quiet because Beyonce is everyone’s favourite anyway (Kelly lost all respect after appearing on X Factor, and I think I can safely assume that when rumours of a Beyonce-Kelly-Michelle reunion first surfaced, most people were like “Michelle who?”). I for one did NOT appreciate the lack of enthusiasm Michelle was putting into the Single Ladies dance. For a few seconds I thought they might have just put a cardboard cut-out on stage. But no, she was just being lazy. This is not dress rehearsal Michelle! THIS IS LIVE. ALL THESE PEOPLE? IT MEANS THAT THIS IS THE LIVE SHOW. Maybe she was just tired because she forgot to eat that day. She’s so thin! If I ever met her that would be the only thing I’d ask for; not an autograph or a picture. I would just run up to her and say “Oh honey, EAT something!” before shovelling a bargain bucket into her mouth.
In other news, I went into town sober last Saturday. It was after I’d finished serving wanky cocktails to women who will only drink through straws. (I do moan a lot about working in a bar, but it’s way cleaner than the last place I worked – where consideration from customers was filling a pint glass with vom and not spilling any over the edge.)
I’d forgotten what it was like to go into town sober. It’s horrendous – you’re so aware of things. For example, I was very aware when an old couple started using my back as a makeshift wall to get inappropriate against. This woman was getting so into it that she was sliding her back up and down mine like she was Baloo and I was the tree. And the smell of sick really hits your nostrils hard; it sinks down into the back of your throat so you can almost taste it, and you’re all like “eurgh, who’s been drinking White Russians?”
Another horrible thing about being sober on a night out, is that you can really hear that smack of girls in stupid heels falling to the pavement. It sounds like when you drop a really big cake on the floor. It’s probably as messy as that too. And people start making out in weird places, like in the toilet or the Chinese takeaway. Since when has Chow Mein been an aphrodisiac?
Lastly I would like to apologise for how out-of-sync these blog posts have been recently. I’ve been super busy with things that are really boring to listen to. But next week, I will have an ANNOUNCEMENT. So, to my tens of viewers, get your hopes up because I just put that shit in capitals! Be prepared to be disappointed!