It hit me suddenly a couple of minutes ago.
The most boring blog entry I could possibly write?
Live-blogging the SuperBowl.
I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate the men in tight pants. (Although to be fair, that's not one of the things that really does it for me, as a woman.) I enjoy football. It can be pretty entertaining. But I know just enough about it -- meaning, mostly not a lot at all -- that my commentary would be absolutely unreadable.
I'm almost tempted to give it a go, just because.
Eh, never mind.
In other news, this is one of the best reasons I've seen in a long time to want to be a nationality other than American. I'm all for us working fewer hours and taking more rejuvenative vacations, but lobbying for a national holiday the day after SuperBowl Sunday because of -- and let's be honest here -- hangovers?
Sure, my birthday is occasionally granted holiday status for, uh, essentially the same reason. But that makes sense. This? Is inane.
Then again, perhaps I'd feel differently if I had to be at an office at 9 a.m. tomorrow...
...but really? Not so much.