Oh, that wasn’t such a good idea.

So. After a day at Megan’s cheer competition – by the way, how CUTE are little cheerleaders? – we decided to come home and celebrate the Super Bowl the old-fashioned way: by drinking a lot of alcohol and eating a lot of junk food.

I went to King Soopers with Ryan and filled the cart with pizza rolls, buffalo chicken balls (yes, balls, not nuggets), spinach artichoke dip, THREE bags of chips, and a box of taquitos. Oh, and oreos (Ryan’s request). Ryan decided she wanted to have breakfast for dinner, so she was having eggs and toast while Mom and Dad were having crap. “Crap, Mom? That’s gross,” was her response. Oh, my dear…you have no idea.

We put down the chicken balls with lowfat ranch, about half the chips, all the dip and Jess polished off the pizza rolls (I have a thing about those, a hatred rooted deep in my shitty childhood) and we didn’t even touch the taquitos. Mix that with the four glasses of chardonnay, and well…my tummy hurts. Should I be surprised?

Jesse has already alerted me to the possible impact on any intimate time later – “uh, you really don’t want me on you right now” – so I’m not sure how the night will end. All I know is this: I’m a bit bummed about the Arizona loss, I’m happy that the game was interesting, tomorrow my student teacher takes over three of my classes (wheeeeeeee!) and that the $5400 deposit from the US Treasury that will appear in my bank account in 8-14 days will be so difficult to pay bills with… don’t we need another vacation?!?!?

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