...because I am not watching.
Because I don't give a damn. Because right now, on my Facebook page, my six hundred "friends" are taking turns posting about how the "Black Eyed Peas are butchering a song" during the halftime show. Sorry, but not only do I NOT listen to mainstream sludge like the Black Eyed Peas, (I realize that sounded horribly snooty but I don't) I also don't like professional football. And why would I voluntarily watch a show where a song gets butchered? So I can join in the Facebook feed?
I WILL however, admit that I watched the Saints kick ass last year. It's mostly because last year, the superbowl fell on my birthday, and the Saints are the home-team of my two besties, Jenny and Joy. They threw a lovely party at their house, so I went.
This year, I'm plum not interested in the two teams. I also can't really drink mass quantities of beer the night before I have to teach. Yet, all day long, I've dealt with people asking me "where I'm going to watch the superbowl," and whether I "want the Packers or the Steelers." I just tell everyone that I simply am not interested.
Instead, I've spent the day having a yummy brunch in front of a sunny window, writing an article about local chocolatiers, admiring a pelican from a dock in Mount Pleasant, reading Carson McCullers' novel Clock Without Hands, reading fashion tips in Glamour, enjoying a steak dinner with all the trimmings, and writing this blog.