It’s that time of year again. I’m not referring to one of those over the top shopping days when people trample each other to buy all sorts of junk at obscenely low prices. Rather, it’s the time of year when people trample each other to purchase vast amounts of chips, buffalo wings, and beer. All this in preparation for the Superbowl, the big American game pitting the greatest American football teams against each other.
Historically, men have been the primary spectators of the Superbowl. American football is a very aggressive sport, requiring players to wear helmets and heavy padding. This is a game for manly men. Men who mercilessly tackle their opponents. Men who brave the dangers of broken bones and concussions. Men who pat their colleagues on the rear on national TV.
But Superbowl Sunday is for women too. Who else refills the chip bowl, restocks the beer, and orders the chicken wings? And who cleans up the spills that invariably result from enthusiastic cheering and angry shouting? Superbowl Sunday turns the most modern American woman into Donna Reed.
This year, I’d like to suggest a different way to celebrate Superbowl Sunday.
Men and/or Superbowl enthusiasts: Make your own football party snacks. There’s a whole world of food beyond the kind that’s delivered to your home in less than thirty minutes. Make tapas. Pop some popcorn. Drink some decent beer. Most people own a vaccuum cleaner. Use it. You may feel like your life has ended if your team loses, but it hasn’t. It is, after all, only a game.
Women and/or Superbowl victims: Introduce your partner to the refrigerator, stove, and local grocery store, or better yet, the farmers market. Open epicurious.com on your partner’s favorite web browser. Bid your partner adieu and go out for the day. See a movie. Go shopping. Go to your favorite museum. Do anything you can to get away from drunken football fans screaming for more Cheetos. Have fun. It is, after all, only a game—one that interests you less than Paris Hilton’s views on race relations.
