On Sunday night the missus and I went to a Superbowl party at Bekka’s sister-in-law Lex’s apartment on the Upper East Side. Pretty good game, I have to say. Though I kinda wanted the Cardinals to win. Don’t the Steelers win every year?
The party itself was a complete food bonanza, though things got a little tense there for a moment. Crissy got the hostess bristling by bringing a couple dishes that had guests swooning over the food like a Pizza Hut Tuscani Pasta commercial.
So just to get Crissy back, the hostess busted out about 17 consecutive dishes, carefully staggered out through the entire game, which she practically fork-fed each guest from her knees, asking what they thought of each bite. And I couldn’t lie (because we would have been asked to leave), it was all pretty freakin’ good.
Other highlights from the night included this conversation:
ME: “It smelled like spring today.”
HOST: “I hate the smell of spring”
And a raucous, fist-pumping chant of GO! GO! GO! GO! as the dog demurely shit on the floor.
We had a damn good time. Thanks for the invite, Bek.
1 comment:
but did they make a baconator?
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