So…it’s Super Bowl Sunday. We are at my friend Kimmie’s house right now, and the Ro-Tel dip and piggies in blankets and 7-layer dip are aplenty. So much fun. And I think that the Falcons are playing the Heat. Actually, I’m really not sure who is playing as you can probably tell. That’s how much I follow professional football these days. I’m not really boycotting, but the fact that I read a very informative article about the sheer stupidity of playing football (especially at the younger ages) because it ruins your brain definitely factors into my interest level. I mean, all these dudes are gonna end up in twenty years being complete messes. Their brains will be mush from being knocked around like balls of pizza dough, and they will drool and experience horrible pain and fits of anger and not remember their kids’ names and perhaps end up offing themselves which is completely sad to me.
The only thing I really love about Super Bowl Sunday is the food and the betting charts. I am an intense better. I love winning. I like to bring as much money as I can and write my name in those squares and just wait for each quarter to end with my fingers crossed. Tonight Brad got here an hour before me and took up twelve spots, only leaving me three to sign my own name in…which is NOT OK because I’m the one who brought the cash. So if his name is called, I am totally going to fight him for the prize. I’m not kidding. IT IS MY WIN.
Speaking of being in a fighting mood, I think it’s a perfect time to share our latest Rap Moms video with you. Stacia argued that it’s really not rap; I think it qualifies. I don’t know. That could be an interesting debate. But I’m in charge, so who cares. I do know that our new video totally fits in with Super Bowl Sunday – you know, wanting to just knock the shit out of someone and getting some aggression out. Not that any moms but me are ever aggressive. I’m sure they never want to punch a hole in the wall like I do when the cat barfs all over the new carpet. Or want to start twitching and shouting out profane verbal tics when someone leaves a big pile of wet stuff on the laundry room floor and then three days later the room smells FUNKY. BAD KIND OF FUNKY.
So here is my aggressive Rap Mom song – you know, we aim to please just about everyone. I hope you enjoy. And if you grew up in the same years as me, you will completely remember this song. You may even know all the words. I just wanted you to get your bad-ass swagger on. Do it. Please. Get your swagger on.
PS – I am taking all the credit for how awesome Stacia looks. Like a beautiful, violent, blonde peacock. I did her hair and makeup.
PPS – Pause that ticker on 2:41, Stacia. 2:41. YOU TOTALLY HAVE CLEAVAGE.