Bahama Pauly or Why Rum Is Evil, a semi-live blog

I feel responsible that my boyfriend is addicted to coconut rum and well on his way to becoming a raging alcoholic. After all, I was the one who took him to the islands and got him hooked on the sweet pink nectar that is a Bahama Mama. Pauly makes them just as well as any Atlantis bartender after practicing relentlessly in our kitchen this weekend as the NFL's "final four" played out. Pauly's friend Chicago Bob joined us for the games, watching in agony as his Bears fell to the Packers in the first half of the afternoon. As the Jets-Steelers game approached, Pauly's Bahama Mama consumption soared to new heights, coating his usual hair-pulling and pacing act in a thick layer of high fructose corn syrup and Malibu Rum. The highlights:12:00pm: First Bahama Mama is mixed. Shaken, not stirred. Mine is half-strength since I'm grinding Sunday tourneys.12:24pm: Pauly babbles about how he decided to bet Green Bay because he heard about some multi-million dollar bets...