Toothsomewhatless

It is so very extremely fantastically wonderful to not have my wisdom teeth! My mouth feels great as long as I forget that there are two gaping holes in there. Well, by now they're hopefully two blood-clotted holes. No longer will Mr. Cuts Like a Knife over there on the right continue digging that hole in my cheek. Mr. Massive Cavity on the left will never freak me out again. And although I still maintain that dentistry is highway robbery (grand out-of-pocket total including pills was about $834 - insurance kicked in $1K), I'm so so happy that I finally went in & took care of shit. I, in fact, owned it.

Also, can I say that I love my dentist. He's awesome. My only complaint is that it's a bit difficult to laugh when your mouth is full of metal & someone's squirting water down your throat. After I posited that the drill sounded more like angry pigeons than the cooing of doves he'd promised, he made cooing noises every time he did something that I thought might hurt.

Afterward one of the techs mentioned that Scarlett Johannson was alleged to have recently had one of her wisdom teeth dipped in gold & given to a boyfriend. I said that I ought to take Mr. Massive Cavity (yeah, I looked at 'em after they were out; & yeah, Mr. MC weren't too pretty) & mail it to my ex-boyfriend with a note that says, "Now that I no longer support you financially, dental care is not just a dream". C'mon, it's funny! And disturbing. But funny. And pointless, since I didn't keep 'em anyway.

I did stay home on Friday, but I felt more exhausted than pained. Eh, the whole thing was a lovely excuse to sit on my butt all weekend high on painkillers, knit & watch crap ("Scrubs"; Blades of Glory; The Women (okay, that one's not crap, but actually pretty good, if a bit shrill)). I even broke down & got a coaxial cable on Sunday. It's not as bad as it sounds though - I'm knitting like a madman right now & require accompanying audiovisual stimulation that is not dependent so much on the visual part. Football is actually the perfect program to knit to! I shit you not. Think about it - it's 60 minutes of actual game time that takes 180+ minutes to complete. So, if I knit during all the non-game stuff, that's two solid hours of straight knit-time. It works out wonderfully - I get lots done, & I'm not bored senseless by commercials & all that standing around they do on the field.

A Football Team Is Like A Work Of Art

Last night, I went over to my friends' house to watch the late game...the San Diego Chargers against the New England Patriots.

I decided that the Chargers are my second favorite team, after the Colts. This decision was based on the mere existence of their powder blue uniforms (see previous football post) which are so! friggin! adorable! & the lightning bolts that go down the sides of their pants (awesome). And also, that team is like the GQ of the football world. Usually I cringe when the announcers do the team line-ups & show the "pictures" of the players (it's actually usually the players' heads videotaped...think Harry Potter photos, that's what it's like). Most players aren't...aesthetically pleasing. But might I say, the Chargers have an exceptionally good-looking team.

So: good looks & good uniforms make me like the Chargers.

The Patriots played letter-perfect football last night. They crushed the Chargers, whose quarterback just seemed either totally psyched out or terrified (depending on how nicely you want to put it) the whole game. I have to admit, the Patriots are an amazing team. I think they played the best football I've ever seen last night (not that I've been watching all that long). I mean, Tom Brady was sacked three times. (Which definitely helped me understand why Shawn Merriman, a Chargers defensive player, gets his own commercials, drug scandals or no.) But that was just about the only thing that went wrong for him. He was...practically perfect. The whole team was.

Which got me to thinking: why do I hate the Patriots? Because I do. I hate them almost as much as I hate the Dallas Cowboys. I mean, I've only seen them play three or four games. And they're fantastic. I don't see that they're even stoppable this year, what with Randy Moss & their other acquisitions. But I just don't like them. Are they possibly too perfect for me? Are they just too good for me to do anything but admire their abilities? Like robots?

Maybe. I also think Tom Brady is an ass. I know a lot of people think Peyton Manning is a douchebag, but you know what? Manning is out there like opening children's hospitals & shit. Brady is out there knocking up supermodels, then dumping them for younger not-pregnant supermodels. It's like the whole Mary-Louise Parker/Billy Crudup/Claire Danes thing. I just can't respect that shit.

And I guess the Colts & the Patriots are kind of rivals.

But the thought occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, football teams are like works of art. Some you respond to. Some you don't. There are certainly nameable reasons for this, but push comes to shove, it's an emotional response more than anything else. The Patriots are kind of like Andy Warhol to me - not inspiring. Not creative. Lacking in certain innate human qualities. Sometimes technical perfection is perfectly boring. I mean, probably you don't want a Jackson Pollack team or anything. But flawless renderings can just be so dull.

All Autumnal

FOOTBALL! FOOTBALL STARTS TODAY! FFFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTBALL!

I'm excited. My team is playing the New Orleans Saints. God, how I've missed Marvin Harrison's mustache.

EDIT: Here's what I'd learned by the conclusion of last night's game:

1. My secret fears that I might have stopped liking football in the off-season were unfounded. I'm as loud & belligerent as ever. Last night in particular involved a whole lotta yelling about "ass-munchers". In fact, I found myself contemplating whether I shouldn't try to get some channels on my TV at home so I can watch more games. (So not doing it, though.)
   
2. Enormous Superbowl ring effigies are TOTALLY lame.
3. John Mellencamp is scary-looking! And I can't believe he's still singing that small town song.
   
4. I think Tony Dungy saw a dermatologist during the break. Also, I was surprised that they only mentioned the fact that he's the first black coach to win the Superbowl like once the whole night.
   
5. "He's a tight end in name only - he can really flex his muscles." Heh. Oh, John Madden, how could I forget that you are a wondrous source of unwittingly dirty bon mots?
6. Dude! The Colts' defense wasn't a post-season fluke! They ROCKED. Sadly, though I egged him on the whole game, Dwight Freeney never quite managed to "officially" sack Drew Brees, the New Orleans QB. (I know. I'm evil for rooting against the Saints. A downtrodden & devastated city's sole source of hope, etc. But I really just wanted to see a sack, & obviously I couldn't yell for the Saints to sack Manning.)
   
7. I forgot a lot of technical stuff. Like what a "blitz" is. Or what a "left tackle" does, though I remember that it's a really important position. At least my fondness for the concept of "special teams" continues unabated. Also, I still can't manage to watch the entire field; my eyes will always just follow the ball, so I miss all the cool stuff that the other guys do, unless the announcers do a replay & describe what happened.
8. But other than that, I discovered that I could easily be an announcer. They pretty much said all the same stuff I was saying (i.e., that the Colts' defense got appreciably better once Bob Sanders recovered from last year's regular season-killing injury. That it's really scary to have Joseph Addai as their only "real" RB.) Stealing my lines, the filthy bastards.
9. Sometimes I don't like that I have a "team". I get way too involved, not to a dangerous extent - I mean, it's not gonna ruin my whole day if the Colts lose - but still.
10. I know now what it feels like to piss girls off because I wanna watch the game.
11. Marvin's still got the mustache. I think I might die a little inside if he ever shaved it off.
    

Prince = God

The glory of my team's victory made me almost forget about the fantabulous halftime show. Not having seen any Superbowls before, nor having felt particularly inclined to seek out clips (read: Jackson nipple) on YouTube, I don't know how it ranks in comparison to others.

But I do know this: I *heart* Prince.

There Will Be No Boogers in the NYT

The Colts' Bob Sanders intercepting a pass. This picture reminds me of a commercial often shown during football games, which posits that "some things just aren't meant to go together", using a football musical as its example. I would totally go see a football musical. Good lord! That would be so, so fantastic.

I WON!!! I WON!!! Colts won the Superbowl!!! Hee hee. Although not as thrilling as the AFC championship game, this too was a damn good game. Admittedly I felt a bit dejected after Hester (whythefuckwouldyoukicktoHester,Vinatieri?!?!?) took the opening kick all the way down for a touchdown. But things evened out - the pouring rain was a great unifier - & the game had a close score nearly throughout its entirety. Personally, though I know the Peyton Manning MVP win was a gimme, I thought Joseph Addai &/or Dominic Rhodes would have been more worthy. Although, really, as one article I read put it, this truly was a team effort. (Gag, choke.) I mean, seriously, the Colts defense? I remember during the regular season, it took four of 'em to drag down one dude. And when they actually did it, they were all as excited as any college freshman. I don't know what happened, but the fact is that their performance in every single playoff game was simply stellar, & did not slack off in the bowl.

Speaking of defense - somehow, it was during yesterday's opening Colts defense roll call that I discovered there is a Colts member who willingly allows others to call him "Booger"...Booger McFarland, that is. He is a defensive tackle. I can't say as for certain, but I'm guessing that means his job is to hit people. Anyway, it appears the New York Times ain't down with the Booger love. In their picture showing his sack of Rex Grossman (I maintain that Grossman slipped of his own accord), he is named only as "Anthony McFarland". C'mon guys. You gotta give the Boogs some respect.

Although I rather meanly said last night that Rex Grossman was now my second-favorite quarterback (after he slipped & fell twice in a row), he actually did a decent job. I just think that, all things being more or less equal, a lot of it came down to QB experience. Manning has it in spades. Grossman doesn't.

And, push come to shove, although everybody was sloppy as shit out there, the Colts were just a little less sloppy.

But let the good sportsmanship not detract from this simple fact: COLTS WON THE SUPERBOWL!!!!!!! Hell yeah.

Also, if you ever wondered, as I did lo! just last night, whatever happens to the loser's "Superbowl Champions" t-shirts, well, here ya go.

And finally, one of my own personal favorite-things-about-football, amply illustrated - the post-game man-love:Sigh. It's so...sweet.

Game On!

(This game-winning TD is brought to you by Joseph Addai.)

Well, I said I was gonna do it, & I did it: the Indianapolis Colts have made it to the Superbowl for the first time since 1970, when they were still in Baltimore, based on the sheer force of my will. I dumped Gatorade on myself last night. Go, me!

Seriously though, last night's game against the Patriots was flat-out, bar-none, the most fantastic game I've ever seen. Granted, I've only been watching football since November. Indeed, a friend told me last night how lucky I was that "my team" made the Superbowl in my first year of fan-dom. The concept of "my team" is a very odd one to me. Unless a team becomes "yours" based arbitrarily on geography, how can it be anything but an even more stunningly arbitrary choice, particularly given the amount of emotion people invest in teams & the possessiveness with which they speak about them? I mean, the Colts became "my team" because I like QB Peyton Manning & his cornpone accent, receiver Marvin Harrison has this awesome Boogie Nights-worthy porn star mustache, coach Tony Dungy looks like a nice guy, there are a lot of "8"s on their jerseys & I like their helmets. That's it. Oh, & Joseph Addai is a damn good running back. (Look! I'm starting to finally know the positions! Hee hee.) And yet, like any other fan for any other reasons, I found myself emotionally invested in last night's AFC championship game. It wouldn't have ruined my night if the Colts hadn't won - but I totally, insanely, wanted them to. & was seriously fucking excited when they did. There was screaming. And lots of high fives.

But, come on - they were down by 15 friggin' points at the half. Against the Patriots. And Manning always chokes in the post-season, right? I thought it was true. The first two playoff games didn't bode well for him - the defense won 'em the first game against the Kansas City Chiefs (the! Colts! defense! holy! shit! - as an Indy sportswriter said during the regular season, the only reason they're 32nd in the league is because there aren't 39 teams) & the combination of defense & kicker Adam Vinatieri led them to improbably defeat the Baltimore Ravens. And the first half against the Pats looked to be more of the subpar same for Manning, who, again, just didn't seem to be getting the job done in the crunch.

I figured, at the half, that they were probably gonna lose. Yes, I almost lost faith in my powers. Almost - but not quite. I left the window open. And they did it! And Manning was fantastic in the second half, especially on that last 7 play, 80 yard drive, which led to Addai's touchdown, the Colts' first lead of the game (with 60 seconds left in the 4th quarter) & ultimately, after Marlin Jackson's interception of a Tom Brady pass, sweet sweet victory. I can't really recreate the events & feelings, but suffice it to say I was pumped like I was full of steroids.

I'M GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL. Well, maybe not me exactly. But, you know, my team. And we're totally going to hand the Bears' asses to them on a platter. Because I said so.