Whatever. I admit that I watched the Super Bowl yesterday, with a chili dog and a real dog, who wanted the chili dog. I love watching enormous millionaires beat the crap out of each other. They work so hard to inflict pain, the least I can do is watch.

I would prefer it if I were allowed to pick the millionaires and the venue, of course. (Donald Trump vs. David Bowie, in a cornfield, with rolls of Saran Wrap.) I think this must be how Celebrity Death Match started.

So, Super Bowl fever is over, but the excitement never ends for me. This morning, I said "Hello" to Michael Dukakis. He was the featured speaker at a forum I helped organize, and I was there to (do nothing) (make it appear that I am a dedicated employee) (scout around for free food) help.

Mr. Dukakis, it should be noted, returned my "hello" and raised it a "how are you this morning?" at which point I folded.

My boss had told the other organizers of the event, back when we were planning it, to be sensitive around me when mentioning Michael Dukakis, as I had once had an affair with him "that didn�t work out." I kind of forgot about that (his statement, not the affair, which at any rate was wholly fictional) but this morning, one of the organizer guys sidled up next to me and said, "...So?" and paused. I responded, not getting his drift, "I think we're looking at a good turnout!" He eventually made it clear that he was asking me how things were progressing with me and Mr. Dukakis, but by the time I caught on, I was too far behind the ball to join the game.

Later, my boss fake-casually asked, "So... Any sparks?" Ar, ar.

Eventually, the whole premise caused me to start to believe that I HAD had an affair with Michael Dukakis, and I momentarily caught myself avoiding him when we both went for coffee at the same time.

It's really just a short step from here to full-blown insanity, but I am willing to make that trip, if it'll keep everyone entertained. (By "everyone," I think it's understood that I really mean "me.")