Today’s immortal utterance came just a few minutes ago from the C.S.O., better known (in some circles, anyway) as my beloved wife Beth. But first, a little context.
Just in case you’ve been in a coma for last 365 days, today is Super Bowl Sunday. (I almost typed “Super Bowel Sunday,” in a classic Freudian slip.) On this day which comes but once a year, we here at the Fortress eat an assortment of foods that would not pass muster with a competent dietitian. I’m told that this is the custom in many American households on this very special day.
The kickoff of the Super Bowl is scheduled for 6:30 PM Eastern Standard Time. I’ll probably warm up the Idiot Box about five minutes before that. However, Beth has already piled the living room coffee table high with the snacks and finger foods on which we expect to “dine.” And a few minutes ago, while I was replenishing the Fortress’s stock of ice cubes, she made her bid for entry to the ranks of the immortal epigrammatists by calling out in a loud voice:
Words fail me, Gentle Reader. On this day of all days! Oh, the pain, the pain…
2 comments
Or as the ornitholigically inclined like to call it, “Superb Owl Sunday.”
LMAO