Super Bowl in Nashville

I watched the Super Bowl in Nashville, Tenn., at Road Dawg’s uncle’s
house. He’s been throwing a Super Bowl party for 12 years. You know what that means: Road trip!

The party was crazy. I figured since the house was a
mini-mansion, we’d be hanging with a bunch of pretentious buppies. I was wrong. It was as if someone had brought the regulars at Coyote Joe’s here.

After the game ended, the music started. One guy wanted to hear Bobby Womack-style slow songs all night. An older lady boogied to T.I.’s “Top Back.” That was funny. I caused a minor uproar when I told a touchy-feely girl to stop touching my head. She stomped out of the room yelling Jesus Christ. That was funny, too.

After the real bartenders left, I learned how to make a Buttery Nipple (Butterscotch schnapps and Bailey’s). I perfected my pomegranate martini. Oh, and I discovered that apple martini’s should be green,not clear.

It was my kind of party.