I am almost recovered from yesterday's Super Bowl.
Yesterday is the last time I ever have a Super Bowl Party.
I think I may say that every year.
No adult beverages were involved in causing this year's Super Bowl Party hangover.
It was too much of things like macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, fried mozzarella sticks, pizza, chicken wings, barbecue brisket, cherry pie, lemon bars, pecan pie.
I forget what else.
And then there were the virtual Super Bowl Party visitors.
During yesterday's Super Bowl Party, I took a short break and woke up my computer, and saw the current visitors to my main blog, looking, I assume, to see what was happening at my extremely interesting Super Bowl Party.
Apparently, someone from Appomattox, a town in Virginia, dropped in several times during the brief time I checked in.
Do I have myself some sort of online stalker?
From Appomattox.
Along with another one, from some place in the U.S. called Boardman, who, apparently, is interested in insomnia caused by scary, ugly, fat women.
I have searched my feeble memory bank, trying to remember if I know anyone from either Appomattox or Boardman, and draw a total blank.
Perplexing...
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