I'm Gonna Defend a Supermodel

I have really ignored this year's Super Bowl. I despise both teams and didn't know who to root for/against and I didn't like the overall negative feeling the whole hoopla brought out in me.

And then the Giants won.

And so I was pleased for friends and neighbors who are fair weather fans. At least I was until my neighbor called out to me this morning "so Di, how many Super Bowls have the Jets won?"

I really hope that wasn't his mailbox I smashed as I backed out of the driveway. Accidents happen. Oopsie.

So I was watching some post game coverage and I saw a clip of Tom Brady's wife, supermodel Gisele Bundchen, losing it. Apparently an over stimulated Giants douche fan yelled at her "Eli Manning owns your husband" and she steeled herself for a moment and then shouted back "my husband can't ****ing throw the ball and catch it too"

Oh no she didn't!

Bad form. Overly emotional. Breaking the unwritten rule of never attacking the team.

But ya know, she's his wife. And if she wasn't a hot mess celeb no one would have even noticed her leaving and the douche fan would have needed to wait until he could punch someone in the parking lot to make his dick feel bigger celebrate.

I hope she just owns it and explains that she was pissed and sticking up for the man she loves.

Considering that both she and her husband are shallow pools in two oceans of meaningless commerce it probably won't happen.

Thank goodness they have their looks to fall back on.

You never see this sort of behavior at the Puppy Bowl. No one yells out "score you ball-less bastard" and no one says "the bitch could have done better"

Just wait until my Jets win the Super Bowl. I'm going to be so obnoxious gracious.

Now Dat Was A Super Bowl

Congratulations to the Saints. To their fans. To the city of New Orleans. To the whole Gulf Coast.


Nothing like a little fanfare and coming up and out from underdog to make you feel good and hopeful.


As silly as it may seem sports makes folks feel better. feel pride.

I love the Super Bowl. Especially when I have a team I can outright root for with passion. I enjoyed this year’s extravaganza.

Queen Latifah did a beautiful job with ‘America’. She looked and sounded like a class act. The children’s choir had lovely voices and the cameras caught one young boy making faces. When he realized he was on camera he switched to an angelic pose faster than Glenn Beck can switch moods.

’America’ is such a pretty song. I think it would be a better national anthem than ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ which is impossible to sing and often impossible to listen to.

I was impressed that the NFL chose a downtrodden corn husking whore to sing the national anthem. I assumed they plucked her from the back fields of LewEaseEAnna. Bless her heart she only had her good Saturday night working girl outfit to wear on TV. I was worried she’d fall off her white platform heels and land on a flag pole. As her voice whined and cracked I felt for her – at least the silver chains hanging off her white vinyl jumpsuit were sparkling.

What? That was Carrie Underwood!? Oh good heavens – Jesus Take The Mic


The game was exciting. I loved the start of the second half. As all those players were piled on top of each other scrambling for the ball and shoving refs away I was yelling Who Dat! Who Dat! Who Dat dat got dat ball.

I don’t dislike the Colts. Hell my father is related to Archie Manning so I guess Payton is a cousin. To think I could have married him had we stayed in the south. Imagine the box seats.

I just love New Orleans.

I wasn’t impressed with the commercials. I will admit I like the talking baby. And WTF!? Dave and Jay together? That Oprah can make anything happen.

There were a few commercials that burned my ass. The usual 50s style trite BS about what ball busters women are. Are we ever going to get past that stereotype? It is as offensive as blackface shuffling tap dancers. There was the car ad showing all the dead eyed husbands declaring all the things they won’t do to annoy their ball and chain as long as they get the car they want. And a fake injury report on a spineless man forced to go shopping with “his woman”.


Ya know – if this country would let gay people marry it would open up a treasure chest of creative ads. Get behind that Madison Avenue.


I loved all the Saints touching and kissing the trophy as it made its way to the podium. The old dude carrying it – yeah I know he’s famous – looked a bit startled. New Orleans feels things and it shows its feelings. With style. With passion.

So once again – congratulations to the New Orleans Saints.

And while there is all this fuss and attention and all these billions of dollars flying around on ads could we re-build please. Fix the homes. Get rid of the trailers. Have some real engineers test the levies.





Since life imitates sports let’s make sure the real underdogs come out on top.