We make the drive to Denny's, thinking we are the cleverest motherfuckers ever for getting there before the rush, 'cause no one is going to be there until, like, 7:30 or 8, right? 

Now, if I were going to continue with this ironic Christmas for Jews analogy, I would say that we ran downstairs and found that a dog had eaten all of our presents, peed on our Christmas tree and shit on Santa's cookies. 

Because there was a long, winding line OUT THE DOOR at six in the morning.... Who knew so many people watched the Super Bowl?

It left us Chosen Ones with quite a dilemma: waiting in line versus free food. (Waiting in line is a mortal enemy of Jews: I was once at a wedding where the rabbi sat down and anxiously stared at the crowd around the buffet for around 45 minutes because he hated waiting in line.)

After a quick debate, we decided that the wait just wasn't worth it -- even if we'd all get free Grand Slams at the end of it. So we turned around and went home, disappointed.

And everyone went back to sleep. Except me, because I was thinking of making my own Grand Slam at home out of spite. Hmm...crack two eggs into a pan, heat up some bacon in the microwave, spray some pancakes into another pan, toast some bread.

I ended up making my everyday breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, and then played video games for two and a half hours. If Michael Phelps was my thought process, I went from this to this.