Super Duper

Sunday, February 1st, 2009, 12:01 pm

Super Sunday. Two weeks sitting on pins and needles and kickoff is just seven hours away. I’m ready–the lid on my emotional kettle is rattling, my hatred for small, inoffensive woodland birds at a fever pitch. I’m gonna go to the gym, have a nice little workout to further stoke the furnace, and get ready to watch my beloved Steelers battle for the ultimate prize.

I’ve chased my tail the last few days trying to get my karmic ducks in a row–do I wear my black Polamalu jersey that has stood me in such good stead the past two games, or go with my white Parker jersey since the Steelers are wearing the road unis? Well, one good thing about this playoff run is that most of my superstitional pointers have been off the mark. The Steelers have rendered them irrelevent. I’m hoping that’s the case today, but of course I won’t take that chance. Whatever powers I may have that will aid the effort I’ll marshal for the cause.

It’s a beautiful day here, the sun shining for the first time since…well, for a long time. The icicles are melting off my gutters and falling to earth, making a terrible sound like…big chunks of frozen water hitting asphalt. It’s all very beautiful, very serene. Nothing like the bubbling cauldren of hate and rage and bloodlust that is my exultant soul.

Let’s Go Steelers. No need to shout. We’ll save the shouting for the game.

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