I’ve mentioned it before, but I don’t generally watch much football. You may not believe me because my last recipe was The Chicago Italian Beef Combo Bloody Mary, aka Coach Juice, which is simply a dumb coincidence. But, every year, I do go to Superbowl parties because if I don’t, I’ll spend that Sunday as I do most Sundays, which is crying into my cat’s fur while watching Steel Magnolias in my closet.
This year in football, a cool thing happened where some guys on a football team that everyone loves to hate, did this thing where they deflated footballs to get an edge on the other team, because everyone knows it’s way easier to handle saggy balls. The more wrinkles the better, that’s what I always say.
Anyway, one of those guys, his name is Tom Brady. Everyone says he is handsome. Nobody says I am handsome. In fact, my life is so amazing that not one single person responded back to any of my OkCupid emails. I think that’s some kind of record.
Inspired by Tom Brady, I decided to create a recipe for THE ULTIMATE GAMEDAY SNACK: THE TOM BRADY.
As Superbowl XLIX comes up next weekend, which is 49 (I had to Google the Roman numeral translation, which means I had a good education growing up), I feel this is very important.
- One day old baked frozen pizza, sitting out for 24 hours
- A football shaped processed meat
- Store-bought taco dip, ideally partially eaten and abandoned in the freezer aisle
- Disappointing store-bought guacamole
- Soggy hot wings from the wing bar, which is a thing at some grocery stores with little self-respect
- Lit’l Smokies® cocktail weiners because you need at least one ingredient with the word “cock” in it
- Blue cheese dressing, because you want to throw up
- Cheddar cheese sauce in a can, that says “aged,” because it was aged in the can
- Chex Mix that’s been in the back of your pantry well past expiration
- Deviled Eggs because everyone loves deviled eggs
- Tortilla chips and hot sauce that I forgot to use
- Low self-esteem
- A bucket to throw up in
I’ll go through this recipe step-by-step, because I’m a terrific mommy blogger. And shoutout to Nick Kindlesperger for helping inspiring me to be the worst that I can be. Shaboy!
Take out your football-shaped processed meat and place on cutting board. Grab an unsuitably small knife.
Before you start slicing into the forcemeat horizontally, blast this song from your tinny ancient laptop speakers and repeat until your significant other leaves you and takes the cat.
Consider putting a tiny stuffed penguin named Harvey into the processed meat canoe, posing in the bathtub as George Washington crossing the Delaware River. Choose not to, because as a 33 year old adult male you couldn’t bear to watch his face as you had to put him in the washing machine due to the strange smell he takes on from the meat.
Carefully layer Lit’l Smokies® into the left side of the canoe. Only the left. If you put them in the right, Paula Deen will come out from under the couch, cover you in butter, and sit on your head.
Using the same ice cream scoop as before, unwashed, take cold nacho cheese sauce and layer it like a blanket over the four Lit’l Smokies®. Sing them a lullaby and at the end, tell them that the devil will eat their souls. Listen to them cry for four minutes.
Pour blue cheese dressing (if you’re French, you’re allowed to say “bleu” and twirl your mustache) on the right side. Throw up in the bucket in the ingredients list. You forgot the bucket, didn’t you? The recipe is ruined. Start over.
Carefully put the two halves together, letting a little dressing seep out. This is an image that reminds me of how babies are made.
Place the football on the cold pizza. This is the most important part: Stab the football with a steak knife. Otherwise, the Tom Brady part makes no sense and you’ll have gotten sick multiple times for no reason.
Place a half-circle of store-bought deviled eggs around the football. They are praying to the football to ensure you actually get diarrhea from it.
Here is the finished product. Serve this to your guests with a look of disgust on your face. Then, return to the closet and finish watching Steel Magnolias with your cat. Don’t come out for days.
I’m sorry about where I ended up in life, mom and dad.