The Super Bowl

Bored by the pop mediocrity of the halftime show, I averted my eyes and started yammering. In the middle of my exuberant diatribe, I witnessed, in slow motion, the jaws of my guests drop as they lifted their arms with forefingers extended. Unbeknownst to me, they were pointing to the boob of Janet Jackson. The next few minutes were dominated by vigorous debates about the boob, the unveiling of the boob, the glistening shimmer that adorned the boob, etc. I, however, was unable to participate in the debates, having witnessed only the reactions to the boob, and not the boob itself.

I had hoped the panthers would win the game, too bad they kept going for the 2-point conversions.