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Lorde's GIF-tastic Guide To Super Bowl XLVIII

Can't watch the Big Game with 2013's breakout star? Don't worry, we've got you covered.

Lorde may hail from New Zealand, but she's a huge football fan ... seriously, just ask her to explain the strengths of a one-gap, 3-4 defense if you don't believe us. Trust us, she'll go on for hours.

So, naturally, when MTV News was sending out invitations to our annual Super Bowl bash -- Sway's bringing his famous five-layer dip! -- we made sure to include Ella. Of course, we never heard back from her, which is fine; after all, she's pretty busy these days, and, if we're being honest, we'd rather attend [article id="1721209"]Taylor Swift's party[/article], too.

Don't get us wrong, we're not bitter, we just hope she doesn't get annoyed when Taylor turns the TV off in the third quarter to talk about boys. So while we're sitting here on Sunday with some soggy corn chips, here's how we imagine Lorde will be watching the big game: Hey, just because she won't be at our Super Bowl party, doesn't mean we can't live that fantasy.

Lorde can't. Someone brought quinoa to a Super Bowl party. Ew.

The announcer said something dumb about Richard Sherman.

Lorde bums everyone out with her version of "The Super Bowl Shuffle."

Lorde goes Beast Mode, like Marshawn Lynch.

Lorde shouts "Rodgers!" just like that guy in the "Discount Double Check" commercials.

Lorde is really feeling Bruno Mars' halftime performance.

Lorde is saddened when Peyton Manning throws an interception.

Lorde reacts appropriately when someone tells her "We don't have any Bud Light Lime."

Lorde's touchdown dance leaves something to be desired.

Lorde reacts to a Budweiser commercial that portrays women as single-minded retail addicts who always ruin the Big Game for their boyfriends.

Lorde lays eyes on Broncos' wide receiver Eric Decker.

Lorde realizes that the Super Bowl is merely a stereotyped sequence of activities, gestures, words and objects, a ritual performed in a sequestered place, designed to instill our existence with a preternatural sense of purpose, and, as such, any value we assign to it is, at best, an act of extreme hubris, and, at worst, ultimately meaningless, since to signify that existence would suggest that there actually is something to signify, that we are not just sacks of atoms and water slowly shuffling towards our inevitable end. Also, no more nachos.

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