Welcome to Texas, land of the Einsteins.

Today is Groundhog’s Day, a holiday that’s been at the top of my Who Gives A Crap List for at least 25 years. The only time I thought Groundhog’s Day might be worth a second glance was when I lived in Chicago and a person actually wanted to know whether or not we’d get six more weeks of winter. Except by the time mid-March rolled around we couldn’t remember what the damn groundhog had predicted back on February 2 because we’d been too busy shoveling snow and scraping windshields. Which fully explains how and why Groundhog’s Day earned its spot on my list.

And then today I find out that Texas has a stupid official critter of its own — and I’m NOT referring to Rick Perry — named “Bee Cave Bob,” a weather-predicting armadillo from the town of Bee Cave near Austin because real Texans are just too damn cool to concern themselves with a glorified rat called Phil from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Members of the club in Bee Cave that own Bob the armadillo are named “Al Manac,” “Wayne Gauge” and “Hugh Midity.” (I kid you not.) Welcome to Einsteinland, y’all.

In case you’ve been hiding under a rock for the last several weeks, February 5 is Super Bowl Sunday, the NFL’s annual post-season greedfest. I don’t care who’s playing in Super Bowl XLVI, I don’t care where they’re playing, I don’t care who forgets the lyrics at half-time and I don’t care who wins the game. All I want to know is, will Pizza Hut be too busy to drop off a thin crust Super Supreme (pictured below) and does anybody besides me still know how to read Roman numerals.

I’m starving. Thank you for reading this.