Sunday Fun Day. Chicago is 2-0 and Bears fever for NFL Game 3 actually started the minute after last week’s win over the Minnesota Vikings. Now, at some point during the week, I realized that Da Bears have the 7:30pm Sunday night slot against the Pittsburgh Steelers. Also, at some point during the week, I realized that the Emmys are on Sunday night at the same time. Therein is the dilemma.
Now, I love my football, but I do like my awards shows. Not a huge deal, I thought. I’ll record the Emmys – better to fast forward past the commercials anyway, and watch the Bears. Simple solution, that is, except for the fact that I have reached the age where I forget 90% of everything. (So, you know what is coming.)
Game Day. My Sports Guy is wearing full Bears gear, and has been going back and forth all day about where we would go to watch the game, who we would hang out with, all interspersed with what he was going to eat before, during, and after the game.
We are out the door, on our way to watch the game, and damn – light bulb moment-forgot to record the Emmys (told you). Can’t turn back – that would make us late for kickoff – major issue. So, I take one for the team (pun intended).
Outside the bar is the usual gathering of 20-something Paris Hilton types – all with bodies the size of my arm, wearing teeny tops with skinny jeans and 4 inch heels. They, of course, will go into the bar and never once even look at the game. That’s not what they are there for. Ah youth.
But, not me…I am a Bears sweatshirt wearing, hyped up, here for the game Sports Gal…more or less. We belly up to the bar, and then I see it. Amid the wall to wall giant flat screens – way in the corner – there is one TV showing – can you believe it? The Emmys. This is great.
So, I am watching the Bears to the left, and the Emmys to the right. My eyeballs are darting back and forth like I am at center court at Wimbledon. Can’t hear the host, Neil Patrick Harris, but I’m guessing that he’s witty. Seeing Elton John, but can’t hear him. That’s OK – have heard enough of Elton. Wish I could hear Julia Louise Dreyfuss’ speech…I love “Elaine” on The Veep.
Watching this, and giving equal time to the Bears, of course. Go Defense. Time out – good. My head swivels to the right. It’s going well, and then My Sports Guy turns to me and says, “Honey, can you scoot your stool around the corner of the bar?”
“What? Why?” I am clueless.
“I don’t want to sit next to this guy – he’s a Pittsburgh fan,” he explains as if this is some sort of jinx.
I look to his left and see a burly guy in a Steeler's jersey.
“No, honey, I can’t do that because then I won’t be able to see the Emmys on that TV way over there, “ I explain.
He glances to the only other TV not blasting the Bears game, and gives "The Look" – like I am out of my mind.
“Why are you watching the Emmys – the Bears are on.” This simply does not compute with him.
“I am watching both, mainly the Bears, of course,” I say, not wanting him to question my sanity.
So, he graciously moves his stool around with his back to the Emmy screen, away from the Pittsburgh guy, and we are both happy. Until half-time.
At half-time, he suggests that we go to a different Sports Bar that is more “Bear fan friendly”.
Now, to me, the bar that we are at is like all the other sports bars – TVs all over, sports stuff all over, crowded, loud, but here I can watch the Emmys.
We have a brief discussion, I state my case, but he counters with: “You can see all the highlights tomorrow on The View.”
I concede. I admit that I am mainly interested in the fashion winners and losers, and I know that will be all over TV and the papers tomorrow.
Note: I am mainly interested in the fashion Losers. It amazes me that a predictable number of these mostly gorgeous celebrities with all the big bucks show up at an event like this with ugly, hideous attire.
Don’t they ask someone…”How do I look?” Do their “people” lie to them? Are they shocked to hear their “thumbs down” reviews…or that they looked like Big Bird or Mary Poppins?
Just saying…if I am ever on the Red Carpet, I will look fabulous. But, I digress.
Sports Bar #2: No different in my mind (except for no Emmy Awards show allowed here). My Guy is happy, he is singing “Bear down Chicago Bears” with every score, playing Bears trivia for free wings , and to back up his change of venue move, he says the beer specials are better.
Bears win big time, followed by endless post-game shows at home, as the Talking Heads go crazy with commentary.
Monday morning I am up at the crack of 8 to channel surf – checking out the Emmy attendees’ outfits that I wouldn’t be caught dead in. What were they thinking?
My Guy walks in the room – observes the fact that I have control of the remote and asks, “Can we watch the morning sports - Haven’t you seen all of the clothes by now, honey?”
“Didn’t you see the game last night, honey?” I sweetly retort.
So, we are in separate rooms watching separate TVs each of us with coffee in hand, our eyeballs glued to the sets. Monday, “Play it again” Fun Day.