Super Bowl XLIII

Sick as a dog this Super Bowl Sunday with messy and unladylike symptoms.  Damn breakfast at greasy spoons.  Good to be alone.  But I'm watching the game on the television I haven't turned on since, well, last Super Bowl Sunday.  NBC isn't streaming it.  The commercials are fun.  Star Trek is coming out in May.  I may have to unass the house and see it.  And G.I. Joe.  (Yay to my girl who follows Cobra Commander twitter.)

SGWhiteinFla at Smooth Like Remy predicts 34 to 21, Steelers.  I dunno.  It's down to nearly 10 minutes in the 4th quarter and it's 20/7 Steelers.

Oooohhh!  Lookee what I found.

Of course, my job NOW doesn't make me feel this way, but God knows I have punched a steering wheel or two while shrieking behind rolled up windows.  And also...I may have wept constantly going to and coming from work for perhaps a year or two IN THE PAST.  

And word of advice.  If you're crying over horses falling in love, it's time to find a lovah.  What?  I'm not crying.  Don't be silly.  It's HORSES for chrissakes.

Here are all the ads.