I'm not sure what confession I can make on this blog that's worse than not liking cats but today I have to confess that this red-blooded rural American will NOT be watching Super Bowl XLV. I will be attending the theatre instead.
I'm not joking.
A few months ago my good friend and fellow blogger had a great idea to subscribe to the Broadway Series here in Dayton. How could I resist an opportunity to spend time with fun, smart women who wanted to eat at restaurants that don't serve chicken nuggets, followed by a Sponge Bob-free evening of entertainment. We bought tickets at the bottom rung of the season ticket ladder--one row in front of the high school field trip seats. So far we've seen the Blue Man Group and a comedian who talks about the Wonder Bread Years. It didn't even dawn on me that tonight's performance of 9 to 5 would conflict with the year's best night of advertising.
Like millions of other Americans, my interest in the Super Bowl is largely tolerating an NFL game while waiting for the most expensive TV commercials of the season to air. And consuming large quantities of dip.
I imagine the Schuster Center tonight will be full of stuffy, artsy women, many without their men, who wouldn't know a tailback from a tight end. Maybe there will be some empty seats. And there will probably be some men there who dare not disobey the wife this close to Valentine's Day.
I'll be there with a group of Moms who may like football and definitely like commercials and dip, but value their time together even more. And also, all the good commercials will be on YouTube by the time we get home. I'm thinking about smuggling in some dip.