The Aftermath

Its the day after. 24 hours since kickoff. 24 hours since the NY Giants began winning the Super Bowl and I'm still in a state of shock. I love the way Two Time Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning sounds. If I change one letter in that last sentence it completely changes its meaning and I still love it. Take a look: I love the way Two Time Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning wounds. The state of Massachusetts is in silent mourning, a deep pall hanging in the air. I thought it rained overnight cause the ground was wet when I walked the dog this morning. Turns out it was just the tears of Pats fans.
The edible spread yesterday was fantastic if I do say so myself. All that remained of the wings was a macabre pile of bones, heaped halfway to the ceiling and reeking of buffalo teriyaki flavor. Following victory, I stayed up all night constructing a crude bone armor for my dog Flexxo. He looks so badass.

Not pictured: Dog in Bone Armor

There was so much sauce that we had to be hosed down afterwards. Well the sauce wasnt the only reason we had to be hosed down! Hiyo! Sex joke! As truly slendiferous as the wings were, they were clearly not enough for the Super Bowl so nachos followed shortly thereafter.

Its hard to see because I did a crappy job but I spelled out NY in salsa on the top layer. In the future I can think of several ways to improve these nachos like the inclusion of pulled pork, more cheese and beans that have been refried so masterfully as to make the eater question if they had not been fried yet a third time. Heres looking forward to next time.
So anyway, all of that truly amazing homemade delicious flavor was tremendously enjoyable on the way in. Once in however, the combination of wings, nachos and tension has left my stomach in such dire shape that I am unable to make any more Macbeth references. Theyre in there...or are they?
But I carry on, despite my considerable gastric distress because I am a NY Giants fan and the NY Giants are champions. When a NY Giant is injured on the field he injures himself further trying to get back on the field damnit!

A partially destroyed knee joint isnt enough to stop Jake Ballard and horrible gas and buffalo farts arent enough to stop me. Super Bowl Champion NY Giants.

Countdown to Glory

Today is of course Super Sunday. Is there anything else I need to say? I'm such a huge Giants fan that when they won the NFC Championship, my mind exploded and starting leaking out my nose. Yeah, the doctor said it was hayfever, but I know how I felt man.
So of course the second best thing about Super Sunday is the food. I plan on making nachos once the game is on, complete with homemade tortilla chips and homemade salsa. You read that right. My good lady wife and I are just that good. She had wings in her sights and I am nothing if not a supportive husband. So off we went to the supermarket to get supplies, obviously wearing our Giants gear proudly. Did I mention that we live in Massachusetts, the heart of Patriot territory?
We strolled through our local Price Chopper, each wearing NY Giants hats, personalized NY Giants jerseys, and/or NY Giants hoodies. In other words, we are walking around covered in targets, insulting a bunch of probably 3/8's drunk Patriots fans. As the saying goes; if looks could kill, our bodies would have never been found and there would conveniently be no witnesses either. More than a few people said good luck. But the way they said it clearly meant "Good luck making it to your car cause theres a gauntlet waiting for you in the parking lot". Some creepy dude got on the store P.A. and started clinking bottles chanting "Warriors, come out to play-i-yay".
I am always prepared to defend both my team and my good lady wife so I made sure my impressive arms were on full display. With free tickets to the gun show being distributed liberally, we strut to the car, dodging only one would-be hit and run driver. NY Giants logo stretched across my rugged muscular chest and decorating my good lady wifes truly glorious bosom, we emerged unharmed and triumphant from our foray into enemy territory on Super Sunday.
But the glory of the day didnt end there, and the game hasnt even started yet. My good lady wife went to work immediately on the wings. She laid out and prepared buffalo and teriyaki wings. Covered them in their respective sauces, whispered encouraging things to them and put them in the oven. The love didnt stop there though. Every 15 minutes or so, she would remove the wings to flip them and reapply sauce. When the wings finally emerged, they were so chock full of delicious flavor that my mouth nearly seized. 
So now I sit, wallowing in my own crapulence, awaiting the glory that will rain upon the NY Giants and therefore myself.