Super Bowl Sunday

Oscar parties.
Fashion Week parties. Halloween parties. White, Black,
Blue, Flaming Technicolor parties. There aren’t many
shindigs in the world that aren’t planned,
attended, or staffed by gay people. But come Super
Bowl Sunday, most of us (the gay guys, anyway) are
sequestered in our homes, oblivious to the rec-room
raves happening all around us. Why? Not because
we’re not invited (we’re invited to
everything). Because we can’t bear to be the
dumbest person in the room on any subject. And when
the subject is football, we’re often three bases
short of a slam dunk. So here are a few Super Bowl
talking points to get you up off your couch and into a
room full of sweaty, huggy, heterosexual men. (Just go easy
on the face paint. Even though you’re an
autumn, it’s customary to wear your
team’s colors.)  

THE “SKIN” IN PIGSKIN

There have been
only two streakers in Super Bowl history, both occurring
at Super Bowl XXXVIII. One was a serial streaker from the
United Kingdom named Mark Roberts, and the other was
some chick dancing next to Justin Timberlake.