I have never watched the Super Bowl. Is that unpatriotic? Go ahead, hate me, I can take it.

It gets harder every day. Sports have taken over. I can't go anywhere without seeing multiple flat screens unapologetically playing ESPN, ESPN 2, and ESPN CLASSIC. What makes them think that everybody wants to see Kobe's massive armpit coming at them in high definition? There is not enough grass in Louis Armstrong's medicine cabinet to get that image out of my head.

The world would be better off with fewer sports, and I would much prefer it if all those screens were playing The Wizard of Oz or Clueless--something that we could learn from, something that would make us hug our wives instead of knocking them across the room because the chicken wings are undercooked.

I'll admit it. In junior high school, I was the skinny geek with a big nose who never was chosen for the any-ball team. I got used to it, but I could never get used to the screams of dismay and anguish let out by the other kids on the team I was assigned to. When you're being assigned to a team, you feel like woman or a child being placed on a lifeboat where you will either make it or not. Either way, you get to see the ship go down.

That's how I feel on Super Bowl Sunday: The ship is sinking and I am on a lifeboat watching, escaping the tailgate gridlock, the face paint, the nachos covered with high fructose corn syrup-infused cheese, and, worst of all, the shrieks of the crowds. I was so traumatized by sports as a kid that to this day I can't go near a ball. I get nauseated on New Year's Eve in Times Square. Even the ball in Cinderella makes me nervous. I had to cover my eyes during the climax of Enchanted, and, of course, most blowjobs are out of the question.

Most people are shocked by my supreme lack of interest in sports. One girl actually told me she pitied me. When I asked her why, she said, morosely, "Because you have no team to root for." Big deal: I don't have a team of multi-millionaires to root for. The NFL pays these heroes millions to play. They don't need me at all. Besides, if I am going to root for any team of millionaires, it's going be the Beverly Hillbillies. They are comical and live in a wonderful house and eat dinner off a pool table. Go Granny!

So again, as the streets grow empty on this lonely Sunday, I am reminded that I have no team. I guess I will just have to root for myself. Super Bowl Sunday. Super Tuesday. I can't believe we aren't having a Bowel Movement Wednesday or an I-Wish-I-Were-Dead Thursday.

Instead of the Super Bowl, I'll watch the Republican debates again (God bless TiVo) and admire how long and stiff Air Force One is, and how, from certain angles, it resembles a sleeping bomb.

While I'm rooting for myself and my effort to make this month's mortgage, maybe I'll root for another millionaire. I think Britney should have done the half-time show from the psych ward at UCLA. We could have seen if she's better now than she was at the Video Music Awards in Vegas. That would be giving the fans something to cheer for!