Bare and uncensored personal expression. Beware!!! |
In America it was Superbowl Sunday. As an Aussie female semi-disinterested in sport this fact almost completely elluded me except that my best friend was going to a Superbowl party. I admit I'm not the most experienced person in the world when it comes to parties. My impressions may have been completely warped by television and a lack of personal experience or an abundance of weird family experience. But... To me a party means, people, more than a handful of them, eating food that isn't good for you and drinking, be it alcohol or softies. To me a party means talking, laughing, and listening to music or watching TV. If the music is good it could lead to dancing and if the TV is good it could lead to shouting. When I pictured a Superbowl party I thought of guys, primarily guys. Admittedly there were women too, those who loved the football as much as the men and those who were dragged along by the men and really just wanted to stay away from the noise or to chat with the other women. I picture some of those men, the ones who didn't bring their unenthusiastic wives or girlfriends along being a bit rowdier then they would be if their women were watching on and some of the men who's women were watching on being rowdier because of the encouragement of the others. To me a Superbowl party tended to involve more beer then spirits, wine, or softdrinks. The softies were available (for the women, the men would claim) but the coffee table was littered with empty beer cans. Nacho chips covered in cheesy dip in big man-hand sized bowls. Big cheesy, meaty, fat slices of greasy pizza eaten straight from the box. The ladies had a couple of blocks of chocolate around the table in the kitchen and the men snuck by on occasion to garnish a couple of pieces as if the women wouldn't notice. To me a Superbowl party means voices raised, bodys moving, men turning into vibrant boys who were umpires and players and fans all at the same time. They cheer, loudly, for every yard and jump into the air hooting when their team scored a touchdown then jeered at any of their mates going for the other team. Halftime involved a mixture of guys being transfixed on the half time show, women passing to see what the halftime show was, and recounts of the best passes or tackles of the night so far in animated, energetic conversation. While the food and beer was restocked and everyone took turns taking a leak. When the game wrapped up the winners would sing their teams song at the top of their voices and the loses would boo them tossing nacho chips across the room at the TV where the winning team was shown off or at their friends. The winners would jeer and boast about being the greatest and always beating the pants off the other guys and the losers would claim it was a great game and that if just 'that' tackle or just 'that' pass had made it's mark the ending would have been completely different. And then as the stadium cleared the boys at home would be pumped up with competetiveness and the women would be happily chatting away in the other room. The boys would begin recounting the game with full demonstrations of tackles and passes with either a ball that was brought along by a partygoer or a now almost empty nacho bowl, generally glass so that when someone inevitably fumbles it crashes to the ground in a heroic display of splinters. The coffee table and the sofa were in great peril of the men displaying their prowess and skill in their slow action replays direct from the game. Eventually the women would round up their men as the energy began to fade and the beers started to slur their talking and perferably before anyone had to be rushed to hospital with concussion or a broken nose. Everyone would head home in the darkness, taking it easy on the roads that were busy with other party goers heading home after revelries as well. The hosts would then either look around and start cleaning up, or be too wiped out and leave it all till the morning. Life would return to normal. Everyone would get up for work the next day feeling a little sorry for how much they drank but remembering, win or lose, having had a great night and knowing that they'd be talking about the game for at least the next week, and the highlights for years to come. *chuckles* And there is where the problem lies isn't it? I discovered that my vision isn't really at all accurate. Or is it? I may have to go around Blogville on the hunt for Superbowl blogs that recount the actualities of what constitutes a Superbowl party. Am I being completely a woman believing this is what should happen? I know if it were us women excited about it there would be a lot of noise and excitement that would rave on into the wee hours. I know if you were Australian's at an AFL or Cricket party it would be mostly like this because we Aussies know how to have a party. So men? How do you party? Like this? Or are you doing it all wrong? |