While making other plans

Leigh invited me to her place to watch the Super Bowl this weekend. I wasn't originally planning on watching -- my boys aren't in it, and fuck the Steelers, and Seattle? Seriously? -- but I'm always up for a little social sports watching. Especially with Leigh and Jeremy. "Jeremy said he likes watching football with you, and I said, yeah, but so does everybody else," which was her sweet way of saying she thought I'd already have plans. But I didn't, because, as it turns out, not that many people actually enjoy watching football with me. I don't know why. Perhaps it's the screaming? The expletive-laced dialogue with a noncommunicative television set? I don't know. Because I rarely throw things any more. And I can't hit you after a bad play if you're not within striking distance.