Reluctant Townie: Super Bowl party with no friends, money or ideas
Today is Super Bowl Sunday, the most American day of the year. The only thing more American than the Super Bowl is John Cougar Mellencamp smoking a Lucky Strike in a sleeveless stars and stripes tank top in the checkout line at Walmart on July 4. And even then, it's a dead heat.
If you're a true red-blooded American — or a sleeper cell agent of the robot apocalypse trying to pass yourself off as American — then you've already got a place to go tonight to make bad decisions involving melted cheese, domestic beer and body paint.
Should you happen to be without such a fallback, but long for the camaraderie of intoxicated lay-abouts yelling obscenities at a television that cannot hear, let alone understand, them ... never fear. I have devised a step-by-step process for throwing your own rocking-socking Super Bowl party. Even if you have no friends, no money and no idea what football is.
Ready? Set. Go!
8 a.m. — Wake up and read this column. Note that it is Super Bowl Sunday and you have no idea who is playing. Also note that it is Groundhog Day.
8:10 a.m. — Double check to make sure you're not a meteorologist from Pittsburgh who is living the same day over and over again. If so, I suggest you try not reading this column "tomorrow" and see if it in any way alters the time-loop you are stuck in.
8:30 a.m. — Report to the head of your Robot Sleeper Cell, MDK10011011000110100, to upload progress on infiltration into human society. Streamline efficacy protocol. Kill a living thing because you are of superior intelligence and feel nothing. Remind yourself: Squirrel today, mankind tomorrow.
9 a.m. — Google search for "Super Bowl 2014."
9:01 a.m. — Bing it, too. Just to be thorough.
9:05 a.m. — Click the first link you see and skim it for 30 seconds. You will learn that the Seattle Seahawks are facing off against the Denver Broncos. The Broncos are favored to win because of Peyton Manning's record-breaking season and his previous Super Bowl victory. Congratulations: You now have a working knowledge of this year's Super Bowl.
9:15 a.m. — Further research the sports collectives on the Internet. (Optional; not recommended.)
10 a.m. — Take a shower. Change your clothes. Put on deodorant. You will have to be around real, live people today. Hygiene is a common courtesy.
10:22 a.m. — While you're eating a lavish breakfast, fall into a sudden panic when you realize you don't know what time the Super Bowl starts. Freak out, thinking you've been wasting time making French toast when you could have leggo'd an Eggo.
10:30 a.m. — Open the TV Guide app on your phone.
10:32 a.m. — Discover that the pregame show starts at 2. The game starts at 6. "The Joy Luck Club" starts at 5:30 on Flix.
11 a.m. — Begin inviting strangers to your party because you don't have any real friends. Real friends would have invited you to their Super Bowl party. Post messages on Facebook, Craigslist, OkCupid and Customer Reviews on popular Amazon products announcing your super awesomely fun Super Bowl party. Promise exciting things that you cannot possibly deliver in three hours, like celebrity color commentary by the guy who made sound effect noises with his mouth in the "Police Academy" films or a halftime performance by U2.
11:30 a.m. — Put on a plain white apron and drive to the nearest supermarket. Impersonate a checkout bagger. Offer to help the customer out to their car. Help the customer out to your car instead. Boom. Free snacks.
12:30 p.m. — Check your Facebook, Craigslist, OkCupid and Amazon customer reviews to find no responses. Fall into a brief, crippling depression.
12:45 p.m. — In the parking lot of the liquor store, help some teenagers who are trying to score a case of beer. Take their money. Buy a case of beer. Put it in your car. Flip the teenagers the bird and tell them it's for their own good. Boom. Free beer.
1:15 p.m. — Catch the matinee showing of the romantic drama "Labor Day" starring Kate Winslet and Josh Brolin. Cry twice. Tell no one.
3:15 p.m. — Troll the frozen streets for stragglers, offer to give them rides to your Super Bowl party. Visit the men's shelter — where you can only assume, given the name, there will be men who might be interested in watching football.
3:45 p.m. — Take everybody to Best Buy and set up camp in the home theater department. Buy off store security with a can of beer and a chunk of Velveeta.
3:55 p.m. — Use the appliance section of Best Buy to store your snacks and melt your dips.
4:12 p.m. — Explain to Michael Winslow that you don't actually have any money to pay him when he shows up to do color commentary after reading about your party underneath the review for an electronic beard trimmer on Amazon. Convince him to work for chips and dip. It won't be as hard as you think.
6 p.m. — Super Bowl.
6:02 p.m. — Make a comment about one of the teams "not having a chance." Dodge the homemade shiv Rusty Shackleblade — three-time felon, escaped mental patient and valued party guest — jabs in your direction as retaliation for insulting his team.
6:10 p.m. — Eat all the chips. Drink all the beer. Black out.
2 a.m. — Wake up in jail with Rusty Shackleblade standing over your cot, watching you sleep with a little too much interest. Super Bowl party success.
Ryan Jackson loves the footballs and America and commercials, and he can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.