The following two things happened during tonight's Super Bowl that 100% demonstrated my ever-increasing age:
1) I actually said the following statement: "That was a great half time show! The Rolling Stones were perfect! They are absolutely multi-generational, family viewing material." You can therefore tell I was not yet born when they were precisely NOT considered to be multi-generational, family-viewing fare but that I am now old enough to have witnessed and understood the significance of the metamorphosis.
2) I saw a player with "Tatupu" on his jersey, flashed back to all my 1986 Patriots v. Bears Super Bowl nostalgia and said, "Mosi Tatupu is still playing football!?? Awesome!" Oh you poor dear, E. That's his son. It's been--count 'em--20 years since you watched Jim McMahon, The Fridge, Walter Payton and Mike Singletary have their way with Steve Grogan, Tatupu and Friends. E is OLD! Mosi is no more playing Super Bowls than you are drinking New Coke while wearing your Madonna Wannabe crucifix necklace and messy hair, all the while wishing you could wake up and look like one of the women in that Robert Palmer Addicted to Love video...
Yes indeed. If nothing else, Super Bowl XL has shown me that no matter which team wins, I will still be one year older.