From the Coastline to the City

The little pretties raise their hands….

And I jumped off the couch to do just that. For those of you who watched the Superbowl (and for once, it was) and saw Bruce Springsteen rock out for the first time in your lives? Well. Take that energy, multiply it times infinity because you are live and in the same space, stretch it out over three hours, and THAT, my friends, is a Springsteen show. I can’t believe that the camera man didn’t duck when Bruce did the knee slide. I know I speak for fan girls everywhere when I say that getting a face full of Bruce crotch was the highlight of the halftime show.

Now, as for the commercials, they were particularly lackluster this year, I think. Oh, sure, there was the talking baby selling e-trade. Not as funny as the clown, but amusing. There was the Budweiser Clydesdale ads, always good. I loved the horse playing fetch. The SoBe lizards were ok, even without three-dee glasses. Bob Dylan selling Pepsi? Squeed me out. Even if it was technically good, and Will.i.am is cool… Bob. Dude. I understand, but you don’t NEED the money. Victoria’s Secret was kind of nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Pepsi? Just crass sell out. And it’s still carbonated sugar water that isn’t even as tasty as Coke. Which I rarely drink, either. I’ve always been more of an UN-Cola girl, my own self. But I digress. I have no idea what Alex Baldwin was selling, but seeing the cheesy animated alien tentacle come out and adjust his tie was rich.

Did I miss anything good? Oh, yeah. The game.