So another Superbowl took place on Sunday night. The roman numerals, XLI, originally had me thinking that Sir Ivan's dad invited a bunch of us over to him and mom-to-be (March 18!) Roxanne's apartment for a gaming tournament. Well, turns out, DUH, that Wii=NintenDogs and XLI=big men running around crazily in the rain (also somewhat like dogs? Discuss.)
Since my experience as a high school cheerleader left me with zero understanding of sporting rules, I watch the "Big Game" mostly for commercials . And the possibility of an excuse to eat baaaad food. Oh, and also to watch Prince prove how sexy never left.
I guess two out of three isn't all bad for a Sunday night.
Immediately after kick-off, the SuperBowl suddenly gained the excitement of a giant game of hot po-ta-to. WOO! This is my only observation from the first half. Oh, and that I ate a bunch of buffalo wings, which were conveniently the same shade as Butterbean's shirt. Then, finally, FINALLY, the moment came...for sexy to arrive.
Fake lightning (or as Bobby called them, "Prince Thunderbolts") shot into the air, enormous sparklers lit, the stage illuminated into the giant androgonous symbol that, uh, was Prince for a few years there, and then, THEN, out strutted Sexy...in...a...do-rag?
Hmm. Now, if the Artist-Again-Known-As-Prince wants to appear at one of the biggest televised sporting events of the year looking like he's gonna wipe down the floors, well, I'm not one to judge. After all, the man in purple is one of the most prolific singer/songwriters of contemporary times, having released over a thousand songs both under his own name and through other artists. Maybe he was afraid of frizzing out, who knows? Hair is a very personal and touchy subject.
After a rousing "Let's Go Crazy," Prince played a few more, including a cover of "Best of You" by the Foo Fighters (nice touch). But, I gotta ask...did the FCC censors see this part, a segment I'll label as Erotic Silhouetted Guitar Solo...
D-d-does anyone else think the guitar, um, STEM looks like a scary demontic peni? EEEK!
I'll end the official Blogorelli 2007 Superbowl Post-Game report with that slightly risqué observation and the worst victory newspaper headline ever: "Colts Reign in the Rain".
To which I say: the purple rain? Tee hee.
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(Condolences to The Polish Princess on Chicago's unfortunate loss. Prince photos courtesy of PrinceFams.com)