11:00 a.m.: I wake up and am immediately greeted by 15 texts asking me if I am “excited” for today. I am extremely confused.
11:01 a.m.: I realize that today is the Super Bowl.
11:01:15 a.m.: I realize that Seattle is playing in the Super Bowl.
11:01:25 a.m.: I realize that I am from Seattle.
11:01:45 a.m.: I blackout purely from panic.
1:00 p.m.: I come out of my anxiety blackout covered in pizza rolls. I think my housemates attempted to feed me but in my catatonic state the rolls just fell out of my mouth and onto my body. I often wonder why I have not been offered a modeling contract yet.
5:20 p.m.: The English language seems to have escaped me. I have nothing but my anxiety and a burning love for the Legion of Boom. I decide that maybe listening to “Here Comes the Boom” by Nelly will help calm my nerves.
5:45 p.m: Apparently playing even the most classic of Nelly jams 24 times is “too many times.” Whatever, guys.
6:15 p.m.: I arrive at my friends’ house, entirely over-dressed for the situation. It seems no one else felt the need to put glitter glue on their face that will probably rip off skin and leave you looking like Harvey Dent post-oil-explosion-that-Batman-probably-could-have-prevented-but-didn’t. I find myself wishing I were surrounded by the 46 year-old man who preemptively got a “Super Bowl Champions” Seahawks tattoo and the people who named their child “Cyndee Leigh 12th Mann”.
6:35 p.m.: Kick-off. We immediately score. This makes me, if anything, more nervous. In case you don’t understand why, I recommend you search “Seattle Sports Heartbreaks.” A minimum of 1,458,456 articles will immediately appear. Google will break. But really. We haven’t won a title in ANY SPORT since 1979. And that title was won by a team we no longer have. I really hate Oklahoma. I have been petitioning to force the state of Oklahoma to secede from the Union for the last six years.
8:00 p.m.: I find myself wishing that Bruno Mars had more exciting nipples.
9:13 p.m.: The Seahawks win their first franchise Super Bowl in history, and their first title in 35 years. I have coincidentally made 35 death threats to the guy sitting next to me who seems to think “that was obviously what was going to happen.” I’M SORRY, GUY NEXT TO ME IN YOUR STUPID SWEATER. I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU KNEW THE FUTURE. Excuse me while I force you to come live in my closet so I am always dressed appropriately for the weather.
11:59 p.m.: My responses to the win have been as follows: complete composure, sobbing on the floor, shotgunning a beer, running through the THs screaming, getting naked, “doing my readings,” eating more pizza rolls, and collapsing. I can’t believe it.