The Things We Do: Superbowl Edition II

As I mentioned before, drinking beer all day has long been one of my favorite parts of Superbowl Sunday. And, being the eminently responsible fellow that I am, I am usually placed in charge of securing the beer for Superbowl Sunday.

Now, beer for a football game, sounds easy right? Not on Sundays in Minneapolis. For those out there who have not lived in the great state of Minnesota, it is illegal to sell offsale on Sundays. Why? I haven't the foggiest. Minnesota isn't particularly religious, it's denizens LOVE football AND beer, and yet, for some reason, no dice on buying it on the day when the Lutheran God rests, kicks up his feet in some Minnetonka moccasins, cracks open a cold Premium Grain Belt and watches the Vikings lose. That is, assuming he didn't drink the last of 'em on Saturday night.

In fact, one year I was actually responsible for HIDING a case of beer so that we didn't drink it before the Superbowl. But All Superbowls' Eve was a little too much fun and...

I failed.

No beer, Superbowl Sunday morning, what's a boy to do? Well our only option was to drive to Wisconsin, so, in the freezing cold of early February, we bundled up, packed ourselves into my car, turned up the Metallica and headed for the border.

Roughly an hour later we were back in Minneapolis with a casefull of the Champagne of beers, and Superbowl Sunday was complete.

In honor of this journey, today I am shoving a beer can in a chicken and cooking the hell out of it.

Beer Ass Chicken

1 Chicken (Imagine that!)

1 can of delicious, delicious beer.

Salt&Pepper

Olive Oil

Garlic Salt

Preheat oven to 375

Take long, satisfying drink of beer.

Open can of beer, take long, satisfying drink of beer (leave about half the can full)

I am experimenting, crushing up garlic and putting it in the beer. We'll see if that works.

Oil that sucker up, rub it down with some salt, pepper, garlic salt and any other seasoning you think might make the tasty meats.

Stick-'er on in the oven for an hour to an hour and a half.

Now we'll see if I pulled this off in about a half hour... Updates to come...

The Things We Do: Superbowl Edition I

The Superbowl has always been a great day of celebration for me. Any excuse to gorge myself on crap food, drink beer in the middle of the day and sit around with the top button of my jeans undone, basking in testosterone, making Tim Allen noises at the screen is my kind of day.

Now, here are two things that, if you have never watched football with me, you might not know:

1) As manly as I am, I really don't know that much about football.
Yep. Watching football has always been more of a social occasion, hang out with the boys, watch some guys smash the hell out of eachother for a while. That's about as deep as I get in to the whole thing.

2) I love to shoot my mouth off about things I know nothing about, particularly if I have been drinking beer all day.
Also, true, although beer is not necessary. I really like pretending I know what I'm talking about, even if I have no clue. This tendency is magnified by the amount of beer I have consumed.

Oh boy! Such a winning combination. One particular Superbowl which was, I believe, the last Superbowl won by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, I found myself loudly declaring that (Bucs placekicker) Martin Gramatica was a son of a bitch and a hack. From where this animosity towards the Brazilian placekicker came I can't say. Nonetheless for at least the second half of the game I was adamant that Martin Gramatica was an asshole and couldn't kick for shit.

Ah memories.