I, fortunately, did not watch a single second of the game and was reading a great book while the half-time snooze fest was on. Holy cow. It was painful. Adam Levine looked like he didn't want to be there and his performance was less than enthusiastic. Taking his shirt off in a last ditch effort to save the show was ineffective and, frankly, too little, too late. And Big Boi? Seriously? When was the last time Big Boi was relevant? Was Andre 3000 asked to preform? Did he foresee what a dumpster fire it was going to be and wisely declined?
In other, exciting news, I ate a banana this weekend. Ok. It wasn't a whole banana, it was just a slice. If you know me personally or read my blog regularly, you know I can't stand bananas so this is really a big deal. I've hated them since I was a baby. My mother said I wouldn't eat them as an infant and have refused to eat them ever since. I like banana bread. I like pina coladas in small doses and I could propably have a few bites of banana pudding. But put an actual piece of banana in my mouth? Never. Until Sunday. Coach and I went for a long walk Sunday morning and stopped at our local smoothie place. I got my usual Mega Mango and he went for a bowl with strawberry yogurt, granola, banana and peanut butter. The banana slices were covered in granola and looked pretty good so I asked for a bite. Of course, Coach had to alert the media. Ok. It wasn't the media. He texted the girls. Same thing.
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