Ah, Super Bowl Sunday. Greg is preparing hot wings and I'll be making homemade guacamole for the festivities. Of course, I'll be the only one watching the game. Greg will be grimacing every time I scream at the TV. Then football season will be over and I'll have to wait til September to get my testosterone levels up again. But until then, I'll leave you with the following thoughts:

My team is the San Francisco 49ers. They've had a couple of difficult years, but were truly impressive this year. I'm proud of those little millionaires.

There are some teams that I can't help but cheer on, unless they're playing the 49ers. I have a fondness for the Raiders now that they're back in Oakland and have Jerry Rice on their roster. Brett Favre is so likeable that I do like the Packers. I also like the Steelers, probably a leftover from the great Super Bowls in the 1970s.

And then there are the teams that I passionately hate. I know...hate is a strong word, but it is the correct word in this case. I hate the Dallas Cowboys (what is there to like about them?). I hate the Denver Broncos, because I loathed wussy, whiny Elway. I hate the Miami Dolphins, just as I despised their loser injury-prone Marino. And I can't stand the Minnesota Vikings, mostly because of playoff victories over the 49ers and currently because I don't think that Randy Moss deserves to be making a living anywhere playing (when he deigns to) football.

But most of all, I hate the Rams. I think their owner is disgusting - let's marry a rich man, reap a windfall when he dies, use astrology to make my business decisions and wear crystals to the freakin' games. Argh.

If you haven't guessed, I'll be supporting the Patriots today. Seems like the appropriate thing to do.