Me and football don’t really go together. I tried to make it work for years and years until I finally just accepted that I don’t give a shit. Doesn’t mean I can’t get into a good game, but I’ll be just fiiine if I miss it. The only reason I look forward to watching games is if it’s in party-like gathering — an excuse to socialize, drink, and chow down. I remember back in college my ex wanted to watch the Super Bowl at his friend’s house (I barely hung out with these people), while I wanted to watch it with MY friends. He won and I was dreading it. One of my arguments for not wanting to go is that I wouldn’t be able to snack at will, or snack freely, as I coined it during the heavy discussion of where to go. Being at a party with people you do not know or feel comfortable around makes the chips harder to grab and the dips harder to dive into. I don’t want to be judged when going for my 5th pig in a blanket. I don’t want to squeeze in on the periphery of some conversation and feel obligated to chit chat when all I want to do is reach over and dip a chip. I want to go to a place where I can double dip and not worry about people being disgusted because we’re snacking on the honor system. Don’t DD even if you’re a little bit sick. Gross. I want to be cozy with my pals. I want to take my jacket off and stay for a while. I want to snack free as a bird, flitting around a buffet of 7-layer dip, buffalo wings (double dipping wings isn’t acceptable — go ahead and place an extra dollop on your snack plate), and spinach artichoke dip. I think of that one Super Bowl every year and how starved I was when we left (and drunk because I pretty much only had 3 chips). Thankfully, this year I was able to snack freely in an easy-grab zone with a comfortable ratio of close friends to strangers. The pictures below illustrate what I’m talking about, kinda. Note: I’m still wearing the brace/splint, but it didn’t stop me from stuffing my face.