I was asked in the café yesterday if we were having our annual Superbowl party. I was almost unable to speak, the Vikings’ loss still haunting me. No, unfortunately, we didn’t because, well, that would have profoundly affected my football trash talk with my son (who rooted for the Saints, the little traitor). And, I would have had to clean my house.
Okay, okay, I did clean my house. And I cooked homemade pizza and nachos. And we had a couple people over.
Maybe we’ll have a blowout next year. When the Vikings are playing, donchyaknow.
But, because no one really had a horse in this race, we decided to rate the Superbowl ads. By far, they lacked originality and fun of previous years. But here are our favorite, according to quarter:
The Betty White commercial. Technically, this started before the kickoff, so it wasn’t an “official” commercial. But to see Betty White going out for a pass, getting tackled – yeah, well, there were a few shouts of, “Hey Mom, that’ll be you someday!” (Hey, I catch better than Betty, thanks). It set the right tone for the game.
Quarter One:
Of course, we had to love the Tim Tebow commercial. I’m just trying to figure out what all the fuss was about? And the old people in the room (from the 80’s) had to rise off the sofa and start chanting the Superbowl Shuffle (yes, we know it – our son Peter made us all relearn it) after seeing MacMahon and the gang roll around in their motorized scooters. Wow, do I feel old.
But our favorite commercial in the first quarter had to be Playing Nice – the Dorito Commercial about the boy confronting his mother’s date. “Two Things! Keep your hands off my mama, and keep your hands off my Doritos!” My sons have decided they’re going to start saying that around the house. Nice.
Quarter Two:
We were all equally horrified by the Casual Friday commercial. I think at one point my daughter even averted her eyes. The effect of seeing so many everyday people in their underwear only intensified when it was followed by We Wear No Pants. The Warren family decided that yes, we stand by our belief that people in underwear should not be shown on television. (And were rejoicing that there were no Victoria’s Secret ads, which in our opinion fall under the same category, for different reasons). We’re still trying to burn from our mind the images of middle aged normal people in their skivvies. Thanks CBS.
The voting for best commercial of this quarter split between:
Brett Favre accepting his trophy in 2020 (Hey, I’d root for him!), and Man’s Last Stand, with the litany of the horrors every man must endure (take out the garbage, don’t wear your smelly socks to bed). Clearly, his only recourse is to buy a Dodge Charger.
My sons now know what they have to live for. Phew.
Quarter Three:
Every teenager in the room nearly levitated off the sofa with the Prince of Persia ad (which we had to rewind and watch again). Clearly I’m missing something. However, we all gave thumbs up to the Etrade Wolfman Baby (love those Etrade babies), and there was a collective “Ah, isn’t that sweet” for the Google ad (very effective, I thought). However…our favorite had to be..
The Bud Light Book Club. Without a doubt, every boy in the room, said, “Sure, I’d read a book for a Bud Light.” (Oaky, not really, but for pizza?) Andrew has always said that book club is just food club in disguise. Very creative.
Quarter Four:
Admittedly, the Internet TV ad from Vizio had us all riveted to the screen. Hmm…interesting. And, there was something about the Human Dolphins that emitted a sort of uncomfortable laughter. Again, middle aged people in their skivvies….
We all had another collective Ah moment with the token Budweiser horses commercial.
But hands down, our favorite had to be Tim’s Locker. First, you have to be a Monty Python fan to appreciate the name Tim as the villain for that ad. Then, his creative use of a Dorito had both my sons on their feet, trying that killer Ninja move. Thanks, Doritos, I spent an hour vacuuming.
But the ad that won Warren’s Choice?
The Punch Buggy. You know – the 30 second blip of everyone playing the “I see a VW and I have to hit you” game. And here I thought that was only my family. The things you learn from television. However, now that we know that the punch applies to all makes of VW, well, I’m getting out my son’s football pads. (and why, exactly, does everyone think they have to hit me when their sibling will do just fine?)
So, nursing our Vikings wounds, we still managed to have a good time, party or not.
Now, what do I do for the next eight months?
