My diary: Super Bowl Sunday

I may have mentioned it before, but I am somewhat of a Super Bowl Historian.

Naturally, Super Bowl Sunday is my Christmas. Or Halloween. Or Arbor Day. Whatever you're in to.

So, I decided to keep a log on everything I did on Sunday. Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll read and then realize you wasted seven minutes of your life. Either way, thanks for reading.

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December 17, 2:15 a.m. -- The Super Bowl Pregame Show begins.

February 7, 6:30 a.m. -- I wake up bright and early, ready for The Big GameⓇ. Then I go back to bed, because it's much too early.

7:30 a.m. -- I am awakened by my two young boys who, at ages 11 and 8, have not yet learned the concept of "sleeping in" on weekends. It's amazing. On school days, I literally drag them out of bed sometimes, and I'm finding it's easier just to drag their mattresses down to the dining room with them still bundled up.

8:30 a.m. -- I turn on ESPN to get some overnight news on the game. Apparently Tom Brady had an all-natural breakfast. I would care except, well, I don't.

8:45 a.m. -- My kids outvote me and I'm forced to turn on the latest episode of BattleBots for the fourth time this week. Don't get me wrong: robots fighting each other is really, really cool, especially for those of us who happen to be guys. But, when it's the fourth time you see the same episode, it's hard to get excited when you know that Tombstone is about to get crushed by Captain Shrederator.

Though still freakin' cool.

12 noon -- I get physically prepared for The Big GameⓇ by enjoying a healthy lunch: tossed salad with carrot sticks, kale, and celery, with a tomato shake for dessert. Of course, I don't actually have all those items, so I settle for a family size bag of Funyuns.

1 p.m. -- The CBS special "Tony Goes To The Super Bowl" is clearly just a rib to remind Tony Romo that the only way he could ever actually go to the Super Bowl is with his CBS lanyard.

3:45 p.m. -- Just saw a story on 92-year-old George Toma, the official groundskeeper of the NFL. He has been the groundskeeper at all 55 Super Bowls. Finally! A record even Tom Brady can't match.

5 p.m. -- Mrs. Legend prepares your standard Super Bowl dinner: spicy wings in an air fryer, mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers, and nachos.

5:20 p.m. -- My first trip to the upstairs bathroom to fetch a Tums.

5:40 p.m. -- My CBS satellite guide says this is when the actual broadcast is supposed to start, so naturally the kickoff isn't for another hour. We have to have America The Beautiful, the National Anthem, the American Anthem, the Federal Anthem, and each individual player's biography read out loud.

6:15 p.m. -- My family is scared out of our collective minds by OLD!!! I guess forced retirement didn't suit M. Night Shyamalan so he had to make a movie called OLD, about a weird beach or something that makes everyone age very quickly. So, you know, the opposite of BRADY.

Seriously, though, what a terrible title. OLD!!! I don't care how good the movie actually is. It can star Hugh Jackman, Chris Hemsworth, Emma Watson, a reincarnated Marlon Brando, a digitally-created John Wayne, and a hundred topless Scarlett Johansson clones. No one is going to keep a straight face while buying a ticket for OLD!!! E.T. wouldn't have been near as good if it were called A Boy's Life. Same with The Godfather, if it had been titled OLD.

6:37 p.m. -- The kickoff finally happens. I suddenly realize I have to go to the bathroom. (Not for Tums.)

6:57 p.m. -- For some reason, seeing a golfer swat the arm off a puppet is really, really funny to me.

7:16 p.m. -- Brady just threw a touchdown pass to Rob Gronkowski. Bet the folks at Nickelodeon owe Gronk money now.

7:34 p.m. -- Okay, new favorite commercial. "She said 'crack'. Huh-huh. Huh-huh."

8:10 p.m. -- Time for my annual "Whoa, I didn't know that singer recorded that song" part of the Super Bowl.

8:12 p.m. -- I think I had a nightmare once that looked just like The Weeknd's performance. I, too, was surrounded by bandaged dancers in a hall full of mirrors. Biggest difference: they ate my brains, instead of helping my albums spike the sales charts over the next two weeks.

8:26 p.m. -- Bud Light brought back a lot of former stars from its commercials for a "Legend's Reunion." It was missing the satin sheets, but then again, I ask too much. (Seriously though, did the "I Love You Man" guy age a day in the past 20 years?)

8:35 p.m. -- Okay, seriously, is it time to start playing "Yakety Sax" every time Patrick Mahomes drops back to pass? The guy has run more in this game than I have in the past year.

Followed immediately by this guy being chased by a female cop and an old man in boxers.

8:56 p.m. -- I'm impressed that Matthew McConaughey isn't tempted to take off his shirt when he's in a commercial. I swear earlier in his career the guy was allergic to shirts.

9:35 p.m. -- Well, it's obvious who's going to win now. Mahomes is lying on the grass, and Brady is standing over him with one fist clenched by his chest, while the referee begins the 10-count.

9:51 p.m. -- At what point do musicians from New Jersey become cowboys?

10:25 p.m. -- As they do their annual tradition of handing the trophy to Brady and naming him the MVP, I think to myself that now I really have to use the bathroom.

11:05 p.m. -- I climb in bed, where Mrs. Legend is already snoring away. Another Super Bowl day in the books. Another game to add to the history of this great sport.

11:06 p.m. through 3:30 a.m. -- "She said 'crack.' Huh-huh. Huh-huh."

Following Bill on the Twitter @WildLegend for more classic Beavis and Butt-Head lines.