By Mike Pound
Well, we had our usual wild Super Bowl party Sunday evening.
My wife and I have been throwing wild Super Bowl parties for years now, and each year the party threatens to get completely out of hand. This year, our guests, as they have been since my wife and I started our Super Bowl tradition, were my mother-in-law (whose name I am contractually forbidden from using) and my sister-in-law, Anne.
By the way, whenever my wife mentions that her mother is coming to our house, I always say the same thing: “Do we have enough tequila for her?”
Those of you who know my mother-in-law probably appreciate the humor in that question. See, my mother-in-law is not much of a tequila drinker. Neither am I, actually. I know that I should be, what with the whole Jimmy Buffett “Margaritaville” thing, but I’m not.
As usual, my wife started making her Super Bowl party plans two weeks before the game. My wife tries to begin her party planning at about the same time the TV sports morons start their Super Bowl pregame show.
Sportscaster: “Boomer, we’re just 334 hours away from the kickoff, and I can tell you the excitement in this empty stadium is palpable.”
The first thing my wife does when planning her Super Bowl party is to come up with a main dish. Once the main dish is decided upon, my wife then begins planning the side dishes.
This year, the main dish my wife decided on was smoked pulled pork, from Cloud’s Meats. The way I saw it, smoked pulled pork was the perfect Super Bowl party dish because:
No 1: It is amazing.
No. B: Someone else already did the smoking and the pulling.
My wife also chose to serve baked beans from Cloud’s. I liked that choice for the same reasons I liked the pulled pork choice.
About a week before the Super Bowl — and halfway into the pregame show — my wife began going over the entire party menu. I wouldn’t mind my wife going over the party menu so much if she didn’t go over it with me. But she does, so I do.
“OK, we’ll have the pulled pork, the beans, and I’ll get some slaw. We’ll have chips and corn chips, and French onion dip and cheese dip, and salsa and ... Are you listening to me?”
“Of course not.”
“Sigh. Now I have to start over. OK, we’ll have the pull ...”
You get the idea.
The day before the party, my wife begins adding to the menu.
“OH MY GOSH. I FORGOT DESSERT.”
This, of course, calls for a last-minute run to the large, 24-hour retail store in our town. A run that I have to make with my wife. On the way to the large, 24-hour retail store in our town, my wife discovered that she needed to pick up approximately 2,498 other things.
“We need to divide and conquer,” my wife said.
“Great,” I said. “I’ll drop you off at the large, 24-hour retail store, and I’ll go to the liquor store.”
“That won’t help,” my wife said.
“It won’t hurt,” I said.
My wife was able somehow to convince me that it would hurt, so I joined her at the large, 24-hour retail store in our town.
An hour later, we were heading home. When we got home, my wife started going over the dessert menu while I watched Kansas University get beat. Oddly enough, my wife’s dessert menu was better than the basketball game.
On Sunday, my wife started showing me where everything on the Super Bowl party menu was going to go.
“I’ll put the pulled pork here and the beans here,” my wife said. “That way I can put the chips here and ... wait, should I put the beans here and the pulled pork here? What do you think?”
I told my wife I didn’t care. I told my wife that I was reading a story about the two teams playing in the game.
“Game?” my wife said. “Who cares about the game?”
I started looking for the tequila.
DO YOU HAVE AN IDEA for Mike Pound’s column? Call him at 417-623-3480, ext. 7259, or email him at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow him on Twitter @mikepoundglobe.