Black Eyed Peas
Take in Alanis Morrisette’s wail until you can’t stand it then watch the original in all of its effervescent, misogynist, well produced glory.
AS: Where are you gonna be during the Superbowl next weekend?
MZ: I’ll be in Seattle. Flying out for a conference and to see friends. I forgot about the Superbowl.
AS: Aw. You’re gonna miss it. Madonna’s playing the halftime show. I’m having a Madonna Superbowl dance party.
MZ: Woah. Madonna is playing the Superbowl halftime show? That’s fucking awesome.
AS: I know! I’m putting the game on the big TV upstairs and playing the complete anthology of Madonna’s videos downstairs. We’re clearing all of the furniture out of the way so people can dance. It will be amazing.
MZ: How will you know when it’s halftime?
AS: I’ll put the food upstairs so people will circulate. Plus, I made sure to invite at least one straight man who actually wants to watch the game.
MZ: Yeah. Someone who can read football.
MZ: “Like, what are all of those numbers at the bottom of the screen?”
AS: “Who went down on who? How many times?”
MZ: Yeah, and how did I miss it?