Remember the days when I used to incessantly bitch about Monday holidays? Yeah, those days are gone as I sit here in flannel pajamas – on a Monday holiday – sipping coffee and trying to decide if I should go back to bed or watch a movie. Life is grand.

But what’s not grand is the fact that my NFL DT’s have started to kick in. The glow of watching Peyton Manning lose the Super Bowl only goes so far. One week, actually. And I know this because it’s a mere seven days later and I’ve got the shakes. (Spare me your “Truck Day” bullshit. I don’t give a rat’s fucking ass about a stupid truck carrying stupid baseball bats to Florida. Not a rat’s ass {please excuse my crankiness – I am withdrawing after all}).

To keep my mind occupied, I have been watching a ton of Olympic coverage. The Winter Olympics is akin to putting a sports nicotine patch on my arm. It soothes the cravings but is by no means an adequate replacement. Except for figure skating. I love me some figure skating.

I’ve also been knitting like a machine. It’s soothing, I tell ya. Although, the dye from this yarn I’m working with is turning my fingers blue.

What a glorious day I had today. I took the day off, and of course, the Saints defeated the Colts last night in epic fashion.

I’m not one to brag, but last night I told my dad that the Saints were going to defeat the Colts. He said he hoped I was right but he thought there was no way the Colts would lose. No way. And for the second time in the last ten years, I was right and he was wrong.

The first time, of course, was in Super Bowl 37 when he thought Rich Gannon and the Raiders would easily crush the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Hello, their QB was Brad Johnson, for crying out loud! I, on the other hand, thought that Raiders’ coach Bill Callahan was merely running a team off of what now-Bucs coach Jon Gruden had created. There’s no way the Bucs would lose. Bucs Safety John Lynch summed it up perfectly halfway through what ended up to be a blowout: “They’re doing everything exactly like Coach said they would!”

I was right and he was wrong.

2 points Angela, 0 points Dad.

But, last night’s game was amazing. And I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, could Drew Brees be any more likeable? Geez, does that guy make me happy. I’ve always liked Drew Brees anyway, since his Chargers days and he single-handedly saved my fantasy football season when I accidentally missed the draft and was able to pick him up from the reject pool.

And Sean Payton, what a friggin game he called. I screamed when the Saints pulled that surprise onside kick. I squealed like a pig in shit. That’s how you fucking win a Super Bowl, dudes. There is no tomorrow. You pull out all the stops. It was a far cry from the pussyfooted crap the Colts pulled out of their “masterminds”. But then again, the Colts played like pussies all year long. Arrogant conservativeness. You have to go balls to the wall. Just ask the Philadelphia Eagles, who you might remember played the fourth quarter of Super Bowl 39 as if it was the first.

I don’t think I’ve cheered so hard in a non-Patriots game. My heart pounded as I sat on the edge of my seat. You can have your “pastime” status, baseball, but the NFL IS America’s Game.

Congratulations, Saints fans. You never forget your first.

This morning, my dad imparted some of his wisdom on me regarding this year’s Super Bowl. “It’s impossible to enjoy a Super Bowl after your team wins a few,” he said. He added, “I used to always enjoy the Super Bowl, no matter who was in it. Not anymore.” So true, pops.

In general, Super Bowls just don’t feel like they used to. For one, the commercials aren’t that good anymore. My dad thinks good Super Bowl commercials died with the attempted assassination of the Budweiser Frogs. Which reminds me, I forgot how totally awesome Terry Tate, Office Linebacker is:

Secondly, the halftime shows have sucked for years. Were they ever good? Does anyone even watch them? They’re too long. I’d much rather the regular 15 minute halftime and save the concert crap for the MTV Video awards or something.

At least this year has a compelling match-up… Peyton vs. Drew. I’m sure it goes without saying but in our house, we’re all about the Black & Gold tonight; the “Who Dat” crew, if you will. You can imagine the frustration I had in trying to explain “who dat” to my dad. He still doesn’t get it. I don’t really either, for that matter.

My boyfriend summed it up perfectly when he gave me his five reasons for why he wants the Saints to win tonight:
“1. I hate Peyton Manning.
2. I hate Peyton Manning.
3. I hate Peyton Manning.
4. The Saints have never even been to the Super Bowl before so that’s cool.
5. I hate Peyton Manning.”

My only hope is that it’s an entertaining game.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m anti-movie theater. I hate driving all the way to the theater, looking for parking, standing in line to buy tickets, paying an arm and leg for popcorn that is a 1,000% mark-up of cost, trying to watch a movie with annoying teenagers talking behind me, trying to stumble through a filled aisle, down stairs, and into a filthy bathroom just to pee… no thank you. So instead, I make good use of my Netflix account. But, it also means I am horribly behind when it comes to movie IQ. For example, today, I watched the modern classic “Twilight” for the first time. So, due to the fact that I am tragically behind, please excuse me for a moment but…

What a steaming pile of horseshit! Teenage girls really like this garbage?! I think my 15-year-old self would have vomited ten minutes into it. And then she would have kicked my ass for watching the whole thing.

I can’t imagine even a 13-year-old not gagging at this line: “Your scent, it’s like a drug to me. You’re like my own personal brand of heroin. ” – Edward Cullen. *violent gagging*

Suckiness aside, I did like the score and the cinematography was nice. But it can’t overcome the putrid dialogue. And acting. And plot. And headache-inducing fight scenes. Did I mention dialogue?

I have never appreciated “True Blood” so much. Oh, Bill and Eric… save me from this insipid pile of puke.

Yeah, you read that headline correctly. Hell has not frozen over, although I do feel a slight chill right now. I am rooting for the Jets today despite the fact that a win means a Super Bowl berth for my most hated team. It means some fist-pumping from Mark Sanchez and another week of listening to Rex Ryan. But I am rooting for the Jets today and you should, too. For a Jets’ victory over the Indianapolis Colts today will mean that resting your players will bite you in the ass. Roger Goodell couldn’t have asked for a better method of discouraging top seeded teams from doing so.

The Jets were cooked in Week 16. Hanging on to playoff hopes by a thin and shredded thread, they went into the third quarter with little more than a prayer. Indianapolis Head Coach Jim Caldwell answered those prayers and pulled many of his starters from the game. Under-prepared and overwhelmed, the Colts back-ups folded under a determined and inspired Jets team. The Jets’ playoff hopes were kept alive. 30-something days later, the story is vastly different.

Can the Jets do it? In my opinion, sure! Far stranger things have happened in the NFL. *cough 42 cough* I think the Jets match up very well with the Colts.

Besides, (whoever wins tonight) if either the Saints or the Vikings play the Super Bowl the way they played last week, it won’t matter who the hell wins the AFC. Those two teams look sharp!