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My Reputation Will Be Ruined This Super Bowl Sunday

My Reputation Will Be Ruined This Super Bowl Sunday

I’m not one to brag or anything, but I have actual plans for the Super Bowl instead of just sitting at home eating mac and cheese and rolling my eyes at all of the football tweets. You can find me:

1. Getting so fucked up I don’t even know what sport I am watching
2. Petting a stranger’s dog that is nowhere near the TV
3. By the chip bowl hogging the guacamole
4. In the liquor cabinet drowning my taste buds every time boys yell, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???”

Most girls would argue the worst part about the Super Bowl is, well, the football part. If it weren’t for the halftime show and dope ass commercials, all of us would rather claw our eyes out than watch it. But I will argue that the thing I dread the most is the destruction of my dignity and reputation.

You see, I will be around a shit-ton of testosterone. This means there will be way more hollering in each other’s faces, shotgunning, football talk, and other things I’m not good at. So instead of hating my life completely, I’ve decided to surpass all of the guys in their absurd drinking habits. When the dudes start chugging beers, I am going to chug two. I need to focus on something, anything, to keep myself entertained for nearly six hours, and clearly watching men flinging around a ball isn’t going to do the trick. I will allow for this Super Bowl to hold a chunk of my liver. However, this is likely to harm my reputation due to whatever embarrassing shit I do during the game. Am I going to shadow Lady Gaga’s every dance move on stage? You bet your ass I am. Will I try to turn the Super Bowl into a strip game even if I am the only one playing? Probably. And there’s no doubt that I will be yelling at the game whenever the boys break into an outrage. Granted, I won’t know what to say, so I will just stick to, “OOOOOHHH! GET HIM!!” and, “COME ON REF!” and of course, “TOUCHDOWN!!!” Basically whenever I hear shouting, I am going to put my vocals to use too even if I am screaming for all of the wrong reasons.

Plenty of chicks believe the sacred tradition to getting their boyfriend to put a ring on their finger is threefold:

1. Understand the game of football
2. Wear a jersey to support their (boyfriend’s) favorite team
3. Make a bunch of Pinterest Super Bowl themed shit.

Not I. There is no way in hell I will be painting mason jars to look like footballs, nor will I make a plate of veggies and dip in the form of football field just to make a man swoon. No fucking way am I going to put all of that effort for an event that I couldn’t care less about. Does that make me a bad girlfriend? I don’t fucking care. Will the haters judge and question if I really am a female? Probably. My ulterior motive here is not to prove to others that my life revolves around my boyfriend and his interests. If I show up to the party that should be enough to prove I like the dude. My goal on Sunday will, however, be to get as inebriated as I can to forget why I am there in the first place. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

I might lose some respect from others for being that obnoxious roaring drunk girlfriend who didn’t make nachos. But I’m not going to be a whiney little bitch and throw hissy fits about attending the event either. Anyone who has a problem with that can kiss my ass.

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Kellie Stritz

Kellie, spelled with an "ie," practically resides at Starbucks even though they have yet to spell her name correctly. She's obsessed with the color pink, Elle Woods, and Bitmoji's. Her biggest accomplishment is breaking the record within her sorority for how many standards hearings she has had without getting kicked out. She spends her free time trying to stay tan (i.e. sunburnt) and stalking people on social media.

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