"So what did you cook here, Dan?" Nate asked me sometime during the second half of the Super Bowl last night.

I waited a moment, trying to come up with a clever answer. I had nothing. "None of it," I replied.

"So Casey cooked all this?" he continued. "You should keep her."

It was another wildly successful Super Bowl party that went too quickly, even though I drank less than last year. While Casey worked hard in the kitchen, I ran downstairs to open the door when people arrived, coordinated parking in our small driveway and on our tiny street and made sure our guests remained entertained until the game and eating got underway.

Whereas last year, I basically planted myself on one end of the couch and got up only to get another drink or go to the bathroom, this year I walked around more, curbed my drinking (it was a rough Monday last year) and talked with people more. We had about the same number of people as last year (11 guests, I believe) but half of those were new attendees, so I felt like conversing more. The game began slowly, which wasn't good for the casual and non-football fans in the room and the commercials, by Super Bowl standards, were overall pretty lame. Four stand out in my mind this morning (in ascending order, with my favorite listed last): The Budweiser one with the dog that jumps at the yuppie's crotch; the Budweiser one with the donkey that wants to be a clydesdale; the Lays one where the old guy and gal fight over the bag of chips; and the Visa one with Homer Simpson. Other than when I moved my car from our street to a church parking lot two blocks away so my cousin could park near the house, I was never not in front of a TV � thanks to the 13-inch we set up in the bathroom.

Nate and I also had this exchange:

"WOAH!" Nate exclaimed moments after Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson finished their halftime performance.

"Did he just ... ?" I wondered.

"I think he did," Nate responded.

"No! That wasn't the whole thing, was it? It must've been just part of it."

"Um, I think that was the whole thing."

"No!"

"Bring it back!"

So the NFL is pissed at MTV, which must be quietly smiling and patting itself on the back and opening bottles of champagne in the offices because you know it was planned and they've just gotten enough publicity out of it not to care that they'll never produce another Super Bowl halftime show, all for playing to the lowest common denominator. Timberlake claimed in a statement that it was a "wardrobe malfunction," but from what I've heard through the grapevine from apparent backstage sources is that both breasts were supposed to be exposed, so I guess the "malfunction" was that the piece only came off of one side. Who knew that the "special guest" was going to be Janet's breast. If you ask me, if it was an "unintentional" "mistake," why did she have that freaky star ornament thing on the nipple and why wasn't she wearing a bra?

But it was a good night. Our setup was sweet � we moved the TV into a corner and then moved the loveseat from one side of the couch to the other, allowing for chairs to be placed behind it and in other places around the room, allowing us to maximize sight lines and make sure everyone had a good seat. We like it so much we're considering keeping it for a while.

There was also more organization this year (as opposed to this entry), with more people bringing food and drinks. We had so much beer left over, we felt compelled to share the wealth with people when they left, yet we still have a fridge stocked like a college senior's. Sam Adams Light? Got it. Sam Adams? Got it. Sam Adams Winter Lager? Got it. Sam Adams Cherry Wheat? Got it. Yuengling? Got it. Guiness? Got it. Jersey Ale? Got it. Brooklyn Lager? Got it. Harp? Got it. I might even be forgetting one or two. Scary.