I don't remember what I did for the 1999 Super Bowl. I was out of school, working for the paper and probably covered a high school track meet that morning. But I don't remember where I watched that game.

The four years before that, I was in college and watched the games in dorms and apartments. The three years since, I've been at work, watching with the rest of the sports copy desk. So this year, we decided to have a party and, as has happened with each of the past three years, I don't remember much of the game.

But for those three, I was working, my attention divided among the game, the commercials and the stories I was charged to read and the pages I was required to paginate. This year, however, I was preoccupied with something else.

Drinking.

I had a lot of beer last night. We had a lot of beer last night. We went through a 12-pack of Yuengling, polished off all but a few Molson Canadians and even got into some of the Hornsby's and Black and Tans scattered about the fridge. There are maybe eight or 10 Sam Adams Lights left, but we're not hurting for space in the fridge.

After the game, I quickly declared this year's commercials to be sub-par (and, in my foggy headed review this morning, I still think it holds true) and annointed the Budweiser instant replay with the horses spot to be the best of the night. That's only because I don't remember many of the other commercials. The Ozzy Osbourne Pepsi commercial was funny, as was the one about the remote control where the screen kept fast-forwarding to the "TWINS!" part of a recent ad. That was good.

As for the game, forget it. I read the stories in the New York Times as a way to learn, not review, and managed to recall certain images from last night as I read about them in the paper. I didn't win any money in the office grid, though Gary next to me came away with the $250 final score prize when the Bucs returned that late interception for a touchdown.

The halftime show was progressive: Shania Twain was amusing because of her crappy-assed dress and lame lip syncing, No Doubt was great and Sting with No Doubt was superb. Before the game, we spent the entire span of Celine Dion's performance of "God Bless America" slamming her and making Canadian jokes, then had to endure some of her horendous Chrysler commercials during the game. Celine's rendition of the song sounded suspiciously like her "Tribute to Heros" performance, so I wonder if she was faking it too. The Dixie Chicks honored America nicely with the National Anthem, though on Saturday we speculated what it might sound like with others performing it. Springsteen has reportedly turned down the Super Bowl repeatedly, though I don't remember if it was for halftime or "The Star-Spangled Banner." That just doesn't seem like his type of song. But how about if Jay-Z did it? ("Oh say to the izzay!") Or Nelly? ("What so proudly we hailed � EAST COAST! � at the twilight's last gleaming � WEST COAST!") Or Snoop Dogg? ("O'er the land of the fa shizzle and the home of my nizzle.")

Had I not drunk myself into such a state in which my writing ability was limited to noting who won each quarter in the office grid, I might have turned up the volume a little and paid attention to the wise words of John Madden. I am pretty sure, however, that I did catch an early gem involving the phrase "in and out," though the rest of it has slipped my soggy mind.

It's a good thing, too, that I taped Alias even though Casey, Mia and I watched it while the other seven people went home. What the FUCK?? I'll need to conduct a sober review shortly. The Sydney-Vaughn kiss was SO out of place, there was NO Lena Olin and the thing with Francie seems a bit of a stretch to me. I suppose it's a brilliant and clever ruse, taking a character so on the fringe we were wondering when she would be written out completely and thrusting her into the middle of the plot, albeit by killing her and turning all soap-opera by having the same actress play either an evil twin or an agent disguised to look like Francie (the truth which we have yet to learn). (The kiss with Will didn't surprise me, though, because I read about that two weeks ago and had time to accept it. And I might have just discovered a plot point wherein Will or Sydney attempts to relive or discuss the kiss and Evil Francie hasn't yet been filled in.) It may take two more viewings to get my mind around this one.

I've also got to catch up on last week's TV, what with the second 90 minutes of American Idol still awaiting "Play" and NBC's live Weekend Update halftime show from last night qued up at home.

But for now, I think I'll watch a preview of the State of the Union over and over again.

Heh. Monkey.