To say that Molly's Super Bowl party was an undertaking would be the understatement of the century. Between the balloons with the haunting depiction of Tom Brady’s sporting a cheesy mug whilst gently swaddling a pair of adolescent goats on them lining the walls, themselves mostly chock full with Patriots championship pennants and beautiful banners that would make Bill Belichick blush, and the enormous red, white and blue New England themed cake with an army of miniature militia men calmly coasting atop its frosting, let’s just say she had the whole thing covered from a hotel lobby brochure point of view. If Bill Simmons ever came around he would skip around her magnificent foyer like he himself had just caught the ball that won the Super Bowl in the final seconds for his beloved squad. It is also impossible to miss the brigade of G.I. Julians stalking the kitchen, looking for a sliver in the defense whilst protecting the silverware.
Guests of a wide variety of all different types of NFL allegiances flooded into the party, ranging from Patriots fans who began following the team after Tom Brady took over and became the GOAT to Patriots fans who began following the team BEFORE Tom Brady took over and became the GOAT. It's safe to say that if your hoodie sweatshirt had sleeves, you would probably not have a very good chance at making it past the offensive line that was in a stout party protection formation.
Prior to the opening kickoff, Molly felt the need to signify the importance of the whole event, at least for any of the New England loyalists who would have liked a pair of reading glasses to help get a better view of where the day ranks in the history of the modern sports world if they couldn't already make it out from the Moon. She did this with the help of her healthy inventory of fireworks and her trust sidekicks who happen to be massive pyromaniacs, Dawn and Shawna. The neighbors were none too pleased with the giant display of explosives, but hey, it's a national holiday right? Dawn and Shawna lit off mortars colored in the shades of the American flag in synchronization as the procrastinators and latecomers straggled into the affair, hanging their painted faces in embarrassment by their tardiness but thrilled by the unexpected grand entrance (after they got over the initial shock of skirting past an enormous cardboard cutout of Gronk, as our favoritest, frattiest tight end was decked out in a full on chef outfit (with an apron that said, "Spike the cook" and featured a highly detailed, illustrious picture of himself spiking a legitimate, full size turkey as a feeble gathering of orphans huddles together in the corner in hunger, fearing for their lives and those of the Patriots's future opponents) a classic spatula in his right hand and a bottle of Tapatio hot sauce in tow in his left, already several slugs of Fireball deep judging by the cut of his jib and that thousand miles of Slip N Slides stare in his eyes that the big guy usually only gets when he gets within barking distance of a wave pool.)
Alas, Molly and her fellow New Englanders made merriment like it was 2002 as her beloved squad took down the Rams in a classic Boston and Los Angeles rivalry match up and so countless shots of clam chowder were passed around the TV room and toasted high to the sky, celebrating a long-awaited championship for a city that so desperately needed yet another ring to dangle over the New York City skyline, merely a ball of yarn to be pawed at for the feline spirit of the Big Apple.
Guests of a wide variety of all different types of NFL allegiances flooded into the party, ranging from Patriots fans who began following the team after Tom Brady took over and became the GOAT to Patriots fans who began following the team BEFORE Tom Brady took over and became the GOAT. It's safe to say that if your hoodie sweatshirt had sleeves, you would probably not have a very good chance at making it past the offensive line that was in a stout party protection formation.
Prior to the opening kickoff, Molly felt the need to signify the importance of the whole event, at least for any of the New England loyalists who would have liked a pair of reading glasses to help get a better view of where the day ranks in the history of the modern sports world if they couldn't already make it out from the Moon. She did this with the help of her healthy inventory of fireworks and her trust sidekicks who happen to be massive pyromaniacs, Dawn and Shawna. The neighbors were none too pleased with the giant display of explosives, but hey, it's a national holiday right? Dawn and Shawna lit off mortars colored in the shades of the American flag in synchronization as the procrastinators and latecomers straggled into the affair, hanging their painted faces in embarrassment by their tardiness but thrilled by the unexpected grand entrance (after they got over the initial shock of skirting past an enormous cardboard cutout of Gronk, as our favoritest, frattiest tight end was decked out in a full on chef outfit (with an apron that said, "Spike the cook" and featured a highly detailed, illustrious picture of himself spiking a legitimate, full size turkey as a feeble gathering of orphans huddles together in the corner in hunger, fearing for their lives and those of the Patriots's future opponents) a classic spatula in his right hand and a bottle of Tapatio hot sauce in tow in his left, already several slugs of Fireball deep judging by the cut of his jib and that thousand miles of Slip N Slides stare in his eyes that the big guy usually only gets when he gets within barking distance of a wave pool.)
Alas, Molly and her fellow New Englanders made merriment like it was 2002 as her beloved squad took down the Rams in a classic Boston and Los Angeles rivalry match up and so countless shots of clam chowder were passed around the TV room and toasted high to the sky, celebrating a long-awaited championship for a city that so desperately needed yet another ring to dangle over the New York City skyline, merely a ball of yarn to be pawed at for the feline spirit of the Big Apple.
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