And it's entirely possible that someone will get up and kiss the television screen at least once.
What is it that I speak of, sports fans?
It is the Super Bowl.
But not the Super Bowl in the traditional football sense, you see.
It is the Super Bowl for women. The Super Bowl of movies:
I am counting the days until I can attend a P&P Party at a friend's house this weekend. Darcy and Elizabeth in all their glory, just waiting to guide us through five hours of bliss which will culminate with Darcy jumping into the pond half-nekkid.
Oh yeah, and I think there might be some other type of Super Bowl thingie this weekend. Can't really say that I'm caring at all to watch it. Is that wrong? We did live in the kingdom that belongs to the Patriots for six years, so this means that I'm pretty much committing blasphemy.
But still. I just can't seem to bring myself to care about the football.
And I don't really care that I don't care about the football.
Maybe if Tom Brady were to don an 1800s riding suit and stare longingly into the camera my way, THEN I might care. Unless that happens, come Sunday night, you will find me doing this:
Go team Sunday nap!