Monthly Archives: January 2012

Superbowl Survival: How to Cope With Sports A.D.D.

I was born without the sports-watching gene. Without a father figure or brothers around during my teenage years to nurture a passion for football, baseball, or anything in between, something in me failed to thrive. I’ve always played sports, but I can’t sit down and watch them, or keep track of what is going on.

Boston is a die-hard sports town. There’s no room for people like me; we either buy a bunch of Red Sox apparel and try to blend in to the screaming crowds, or keep our mouths shut, for fear that some sober person at the game will notice we really have no idea what we are doing. I truly want the Celtics/Sox/Patriots/Bruins to win. I feel the love, but I just… can’t… care.

I’ve tried to educate myself. Most of my attempts revolved around the guys I was dating at the time and what sports they were into. When I was dating an American, it was baseball. A Canadian, hockey. A Mexican, soccer. I learned terms, favorite players, and which teams to despise. I promptly forgot all of these things within several weeks of the relationship ending. Nothing sticks.

After many years of feigning interest, I’m finally comfortable admitting to friends that I have Sports ADD. The Patriots are going to the Superbowl next week. I will watch. I will try to find space in my brain to understand what a blitz is. If you share my affliction, and I hope someone out there does, this might help get you through Superbowl Sunday:

The Food: 

Invest yourself in the food. Offer to make something. Offer to make TWO somethings. People will be so in love with your 27-layer dip they won’t even notice that you asked what team Tebow plays on, in your quiet I-don’t-know-anything-about-football-but-I’ve-just-had-three-beers voice. You can hover over the food table as long as you want cause you don’t care if you miss a few plays. You’ll hear the outcome eventually. That guacamole is not going to eat itself.

Find a Friend:

If you are watching with a group of 5 or more, chances are there is someone else in the room that is on your level. Find this person. Move closer. You can share what limited knowledge you have of the sport with each other. Once that runs dry, you can laugh together at how funny the players look in slow motion re-runs, with their muscles jiggling all over the world. No one else is laughing about that.


Don’t need to say much about this, they are always the best. Most of my passwords in high school and college were based off of quotes from Superbowl commercials. If there was a Superbowl Commercial Bee I would be so into it.


If your team loses, heaven forbid, your friends and family are going to be pretty broken up. You may feel a tinge of sadness, but these feelings will dissipate once you realize you may have to spend another hour or more in a room full of depressed people. Put your expendable energy to good use and be the party pep squad. Have a great game on hand, I recommend Telestrations. Or have the next rendition of “Shit Girls Say” buffered and ready to go.

And remember, when you are cheering for an interception two seconds behind everyone else, you aren’t alone.

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Awkward Discoveries: The Everclear T-Shirt


I went to their concert when I was 15. It felt very badass, which I clearly was not. Their songs were about drugs and depression and California. I took one look at Art’s white hair and heroin-chic face and thought, I want to marry a musician………..……….


I’m also pretty sure I wore this shirt to school, which makes me shudder to think about.

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5 Best Things About Being Born in a Third-World Country

The official sociological term for us is “Third-Culture Kids,” people raised in a country and culture that is different from that of their parents.  According to Wikipedia, 90% of us feel out of sync with our peers, our divorce rates are historically lower, we get married later in life, and 80% of us feel like we can get along with anyone.  While I don’t know much about this, here are a few things I do know about being raised overseas:

1. I learned valuable life skills long before I should have.

I’m fairly sure I learned to drive around age 7. And the dietary needs of scorpions in captivity soon after.

2. The TB arm scar is both disgusting and awesome.

A dime-sized dent in my shoulder, makes me recognizable as someone born 3rd-world style. In America, it’s kind of like a calling card to a secret club.  I’ve been approached by two people in my time here, and asked where I grew up after noticing my ugly arm hole. I have to imagine that people with bigger, nastier, even more noticeable scars get asked this question more often. Also, people like to poke it and it’s a fun conversation piece.

3. I don’t have to [probably shouldn’t] give blood.

The list of Mad Cow-infested countries is long and boring. I just assume I have been to one of them and/or had a childhood friend from one that might have infected me.

4. My “rough” stories might top yours.

Your dog ran away when you were 5? During the Gulf War my dad used to send my terrier, Rocky, outside after Iraqi air strikes to test for chemical weapons.

5. I can never be President. Thank God.

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