I have never, not once EVER in my entire life voluntarily watched a football game. It has never interested me in the slightest and though my entire family is full of REAL fans (my Dad happens to be king of the NY Giants tailgaiting), watching a game has always elicited a giant "this is sooooo booooooooring...whateeeeeeeeever" sigh from me.
I have no idea what happened to me last night, but apparently I channeled some kind of ancestry and watched the Superbowl at 12AM here, complete with French commentary (try THAT on for weird sometime). Maybe moving to Paris has made me nostalgic for anything "New York" but last night, I heatedly turned into a real, die hard NY Giants fan. Complete with a tear in my eye for the national anthem and outbursts like "BABE, I'm trying to watch the GAME HERE!" and "JESUS CHRIST PEOPLE! PICK UP THE BALL!!"
Maybe there's hope for me yet, Dad. I am a GIANT NEW YORKER after all. You can get me the beer tumbler for my birthday, ok?