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Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

The Streak Continues

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

Todd and I went to Athens on Saturday, for our biennial Georgia vs. Auburn football game attendance. My father-in-law usually gives us his tickets for the game when it is in Athens. He does, however, reserve the right to revoke this gift in case of the game being some huge, season-altering event for Auburn, such as both teams going into the game undefeated. Needless to say, that revocation was not put into action this season, as both teams are sucking ass.

So, we got up on Saturday, had a quiet coffee together (kids were already in Auburn with grandparents!) and then drove up to Athens. After dropping off the dog, and going back by the house to get the tickets, of course. Helps to get into the stadium if you have them.

We stopped at my friend Brant’s house and left my camera battery to charge on his porch. He was not there, and despite our best efforts to meet up, we never got ourselves together enough to do so. That did not step him and Opel from sending me awesome texts that made me laugh throughout the game. Most were directed at my dear husband, the Auburn Tiger, and what he could put into his mouth after any given play in the game.

We had T-stand (that one’s for you, Scotty P, Honey, and Ryan – if any of you can tell me exactly what I ordered, i will mail you five bucks) for lunch, then headed off to find somewhere to park. Not fun. Ended up paying a ridiculous amount for parking. I have to say that, even in the throng of obnoxious people out and about in on game day, there are few better feelings than walking around Athens and the University of Georgia campus with a beer in hand, especially when the temperature is in the 70s in November.

We headed off to Horton Drugs (I love an old-school drugstore), so that I could purchase some Tylenol, since I was coming down with a cold all that day. The old pharmacist actually came out from behind the counter and helped me find the Tylenol, even pointing out the generic, while the hippie kid cashier was obviously high.

Horton's Drugs

Horton's Drugs


After that, I took a gander at the burned out Georgia Theater. (I forgot to make my usual poke at Todd that I saw the Pixies there back in the day, and that he has to settle for seeing them come out on walkers in Chicago this weekend. I don’t know how he is gonna get by. The hardship!)
The Georgia Theater, November 2009

The Georgia Theater, November 2009

We headed over to The Globe for beer. I never really spent that much time at the Globe when I was in Athens, because I thought it was expensive and that the people who hung out there were old, professorial, and boring. Funny how your perspective changes as you age.

We went inside, grabbed a table, and then Todd went to the bar to get us a Terrapin. (When in Rome.) A seat opened up at the couch in the window. Snagged it. Then Todd, eagle eye that he is, noticed a table outside and grabbed that, and the rest is history. We did not move again until time to go to the game. Why would we move when it was 70 degrees and we had the best people watching EVER? I was not able to get shots of most of these astounding outfits, but I did snap a few.

You gotta love a town where people bring their cooler with them into the bar.

You gotta love a town where people bring their cooler with them into the bar.


You can't tell, but this charming lady has overalls with GA patches all over, including a huge one on her butt. Flattering!

You can't tell, but this charming lady has overalls with GA patches all over, including a huge one on her butt. Flattering!


Overalls aren't just for the ladies. At least this gentleman knows that vertical stripes are slimming!

Overalls aren't just for the ladies. At least this gentleman knows that vertical stripes are slimming!


This lady cracked me up. She has a football field sweater. A bulldog necklace. She is not messing around about her love of the Bulldogs.

This lady cracked me up. She has a football field sweater. A bulldog necklace. She is not messing around about her love of the Bulldogs.


Even the bulldogs want you to be sure you know for whom they are pulling . . .

Even the bulldogs want you to be sure you know for whom they are pulling . . .


One more comment about fashion, and then I will stop. IF YOU ARE WEARING BROWN BOOTS WITH A SKIRT OR SHORT DRESS, YOU BETTER DAMN WELL BE AT LEAST 5’7″ AND UNDER 130 POUNDS OR YOU WILL LOOK LIKE A COW. I am not kidding, ladies. Every girl under 25 in Athens, Bulldog or Tiger, was wearing a short dress or skirt with brown boots that come up to about halfway up the calf. We saw whole packs of these young ladies, and this was the main point that we came up with as a group. (By this time, we have been joined by our friend Annie and her boyfriend, Scott. Annie is Auburn folk, but Scott, God bless’im, is a Georgia fan, so I was not outnumbered.)
Fellows of the Peanut Gallery

Fellows of the Peanut Gallery


We also recommend longer skirts for the heavier girls, and dark tights look better with these boots. I will not be wearing my brown boots with a skirt ever again after this weekend. Only with jeans. Not kidding when I say that the brown boot/short skirt look is the “bow head” of the 2009 season. However, if you spend a lot of time with drunks, I guess it is okay: Both Todd and Scott became more lenient on the skirt length issue after a few drinks.
On their way to grab beer from the car.

On their way to grab beer from the car.


We sat and watched folks walk to campus until the sun started to go down, then walked to the car to get more beer to carry with us. One needs sustenance to get from downtown to the stadium on game day – it took us almost 45 minutes to get through the crowd, but the walk was enjoyable.
I love this time of day in Athens.

I love this time of day in Athens.


We made it down to Park Hall, with just enough time to drink a last beer. I must have spent a million hours on the steps of this building, smoking when I should have been in class, having crossword puzzle wars with Kevin. (The Red and Black had the easiest crossword puzzle ever. We would get it and then race to see who would finish it first.) I think this is probably where i met Vanessa and Robin, too, and when you think about it, if I hadn’t met them, i never would have met my husband. Funny how life works that way. So, it was fitting that we sat here and drank beer and people-watched some more.
Old Stomping Grounds

Old Stomping Grounds


I mostly posted this one because I like the light. I do not endorse tobacco use.

I mostly posted this one because I like the light. I do not endorse tobacco use.


This is not what the front of Park Hall looked like when I went to school here. Fancy!

This is not what the front of Park Hall looked like when I went to school here. Fancy!


This is what i look like very sober. This is what Todd looks like when he is humoring me.

This is what i look like very sober. This is what Todd looks like when he is humoring me.


This is what i look like when I am heckling a young man trying to pee in a corner.

This is what i look like when I am heckling a young man trying to pee in a corner.


This is the only picture I could get of me with Annie showing her face.

This is the only picture I could get of me with Annie showing her face.


We finally finished beers (I say this as if I didn’t just about shotgun two in a row) and then made our way through the madness of Sanford to the stadium. There is something so surreal about a night game, and all of the people and their anticipation. We split up from Annie and Scott at this point. Despite all of my efforts, Scott did not ditch Annie and take me to his club seats with him, even though I would have been much more fun. His loss!
This guy evidently never ages. He has been there as long as I can remember. Note that I have no problem with people who love Jesus; Only the ones who tell me I am going to burn in hell when i am just trying to have a good time with friends at a football game.

This guy evidently never ages. He has been there as long as I can remember. Note that I have no problem with people who love Jesus; Only the ones who tell me I am going to burn in hell when i am just trying to have a good time with friends at a football game.


See up there in the very top of the left-hand corner? That is where we sat.

See up there in the very top of the left-hand corner? That is where we sat.


We made our way all the way up to our seats. I have to say that all of the folks in the Auburn visitor’s section were really polite and well-behaved. I am not saying they were not rabid, and I did have to give the evil eye to one dude who drunkenly kept on saying, when Rambo was lying motionless on the field, “I hope he’s okay, but that was a cheap shot. I mean, hope the dude’s alright, but cheap shot.” Over and over, while this poor kid was on the field, and they must have been taking the longest commercial break in history, because it felt like forever and we were starting to think the kid had died out there on the field. It was kind of strange to hear the whole stadium chanting, “Rambo! Rambo! Rambo!” as he lay there on the field. But overall, they were really nice. I wish I could say the same about the four bulldog fans sitting behind us. They were probably early to mid 20s. Not sure if they were students or not. Three boys and a girl. And one of them would not stop yelling obscenities. There was a gentleman sitting in front of him with his two sons, who were both under ten years of age or so. I guess the man asked the guys to tone it down. I turned around to hear the Georgia fan yelling at the guy that “there’s a law about bringing kids to night games.” The kids looked terrified. The father looked like he wanted to punch the Bulldog. The straw that broke the camel’s back for me was the three Auburn fans trying to ignore them, and the stupid girl sitting there giving the finger to the back of the father’s head, while one of the kids looked on. Todd thought it was stupid, but i went up and asked them to please start behaving themselves. The guy proceeded to tell me that kids weren’t allowed at football games, blahblahblah. The girl laughed at me. I am officially old, because i told them that their mamas would be ashamed of them. I apologized to the man and his kids and asked if they would like to come sit in our seats. They did move, and two Auburn fans thanked me. Todd was right; it was completely pointless to argue about it with dumb drunk kids, but it made me feel better anyway. Not long after this incident, Auburn ran the kickoff back for a touchdown, and I am pretty sure it was bad Bulldog karma that caused the whole thing.
Watching the game with Auburn folks is always interesting. I find myself cheering, but in a very firm, but sportsmanlike manner. There are usually a few other token bulldogs up there, too, and we give some high fives and the like. But really, I try to keep a pretty low profile, and just be polite. It’s pretty orange and blue up there!
This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.

This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.


It would be third down, Georgia, and he would turn around and rile the Auburn crowd up.

It would be third down, Auburn, and he would turn around and rile the crowd up.


Then he would turn back around to watch the play. He was more entertaining than the game.

Then he would turn back around to watch the play. He was more entertaining than the game.


This woman was the Auburn version of my Mom cheering for the Vols. Look at those flashing eyes! She was looking right at me, too, Bulldog interloper that i am. She kinda scared me.

This woman was the Auburn version of my Mom cheering for the Vols. Look at those flashing eyes! She was looking right at me, too, Bulldog interloper that i am.


After the game, we headed back to the car, and then drove out to Bishop to stay the night with our friend BT. He and some of the Auburn folks watched the game. I got the usual chilly reception from the die hard fans (I’m lookin’ at you, Kim!), but folks warmed up after I had been there a while. Or maybe that was the bonfire. We sat by the fire, drank beer, and looked at the stars. I ate leftover ribs and potato salad. Yum! And then my coughing overtook me and I had to head for bed.
Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.

Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.


I don’t know what time Todd and the rest came to bed, but it was late. The next morning, we got up and left for Atlanta.
Morning in Bishop, GA.

Morning in Bishop, GA.

Oh! Who won, you ask?
Why, the Bulldogs, of course. It was a great game.

Final: 31-24.

My streak continues. See, Todd and I have gone to three Auburn/GA games together in Athens. Georgia has won all three. I also went to an Auburn game with Todd in Auburn, when they played some crappy team. Florida Atlantic, or something like that. Auburn lost that time, too. So, I am not sure whether I am a good luck charm for Georgia, or more of a curse for Auburn.

I like to think it is a little of both.

Temporary Annullment Day: A Retrospective

Saturday, November 14th, 2009

What it’s like to be a Georgia Auburn Marriage: A retrospective. It ain’t pretty.

One of my favorites: 2005.

2006

2007 and more 2007.

2008

Tomorrow should be quite the clash of the titans.

Because It Makes Me Feel Better

Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

So, my sister married a Gator. I have not really forgiven her, but I have moved past the pain. Florida beat Georgia again. Did I say I moved past the pain? I lied.

That is why, when my nephew comes over, wearing a damn Florida blue outfit with Gator orange socks, (which, incidentally, is the same dork outfit my bil is wearing) and then his father leaves to go watch the Florida game at his house, I like to play this little game with my nephew.

Why? Because it makes me feel better.

Burgeoning Pollack

Sunday, November 8th, 2009

Some days as a parent are so frustrating I could cry. I don’t cry. I usually just sigh, shake my head, and then have to laugh at the colossal mess. Like this one.

I walk into the kitchen, where the kids are at the kitchen table having a snack of yogurt. Blue yogurt. I walk to the sink to put some dishes in the washer. I look out the window and blink, thinking i am seeing spots. I take a step back and realize that I am seeing spots – blue spots – everywhere i look.

The window panes. The cabinets to the right of the sink. The cabinets to the left of the sink. I stare at it until it dawns on me.

Yogurt. Blue yogurt.

I look over at the table. What I want to know is, how in the HELL do you get yogurt splattered all over the cabinets that thoroughly? It looked like a Jackson Pollack!

Need another example? My nephew did this in about ten seconds flat:

Aftermath

And this is the kind of crap that parents clean up all day long, every day. While I clean this mess, the kids are shooed out and they head to another room to make a similar mess there. All. Day. Long.

Fireside Epiphanies

Friday, November 6th, 2009

Ribs, Beer, and Smores are awesome together. Sonic Youth is perfect fire-gazing music. Firegaze, if you will. And, on a sad note, I have become that dude who says, “If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding! How can you have any pudding, if you don’t eat your meat.” on Another Brick in the Wall.

FUCK.

Time Warp

Thursday, November 5th, 2009

Things are so different now than they were when I was a kid, but then i am always surprised that some things stay the same.

Rollie: Indian name - Walks with Pumpkin

Rollie’s class went on a field trip to a farm. They did a hayride, and made corn husk dolls, and Rollie got off the bus wearing an Indian feather headband, and carrying a pumpkin. (Or Punk King, as he called them when he was little.) And, instant timewarp, it was like Alpharetta First United Methodist Kindergarten, 1978, all over again.

I am bummed I can’t find the picture of me in my indian headress and with paint on my face. I know I have it here somewhere. . . Mom?

I have to admit that I was surprised that they still do this. I would have thought that someone would have complained about how offensive it is for 6 year olds to dress up like Indians. Me? I remember that i just thought it was the most awesome thing ever. Hope Rollie felt it too.

I love a good time warp.

My Feet Have No Shame

Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

Amazing that my ankle is feeling much better. I think i might wrap that bitch up and try a run by this coming monday!

Just have to show off how big it got.

Big Ass Ankle
The bad ankle. Bad. Very bad!

Side By Side
This one compares the good and bad ankle. Also, I am shameless, and just wanted to show my feet. You can see that they look like old lady feet, and that I never get pedis, so my paint job is growing out like an inch. There is an ant bite on my left big toe. I have a line from my socks on my calves, which basically means I’m bloated. I didn’t shave, either, for like a week. You can’t tell that from the photo. I just like to over-divulge.

Feet. Yeah, not my strong point.

Nano Nano

Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

Well, I’m trying to do NaNoWriMo again this year. I did it last year, too. While training for a half-marathon. So, you would think that this year would be easier, since I am benched (AGAIN) due to the Halloween Ankle Twisting episode of 2009. (Just thinking ahead. Let’s be honest. It will probably be an annual event.) No, it is not easier this year. We are still trying to finish up renovations to the basement: we still have doors to paint and hang, shades to purchase and hang, some lighting issues to resolve, and I have to put away all my highly valuable packrat stuff. Yes, I need that funeral home fan from the 1940s, my t-ball hat from 1978 (Go Birmingham PeeWees!), and every letter written by every member of my family for the last 120 years. I need them! Deep down in my soul!

But I am going to do it again anyway, because last year? I wrote FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS. They came right out of my head and went into the computer and now i have them. I haven’t quite gone back and shaped and coaxed them into something useful yet, but it is the most writing I have produced in my life. It was AMAZING.

So, yeah, i am already behind. I only have a thousand words down, and I should be up to about 5000 by end of day, but you know what? I have a thousand more words down than I would if I had not attempted at all. And that’s saying something.

Anyone else doing it? Not too late to jump on the bandwagon. I’m looking at you, JB. If not, you are doing Script Frenzy with me in April. I mean, how hard can writing a script be? If Judd Apatow can do it, I can do it. Right?

Oh, god.

In the Spirit of the World Series

Monday, November 2nd, 2009

I saw my own high stakes baseball game yesterday. The River Cats took on the Thunder, I think. River Cats are a rust red color. Rollie is #9. I was so proud – he is really improving in his fielding skills. He helped make two outs in one inning! (This is huge for t-ball.)

The shortstop fields the ball. . . To Johnson, the Shortstop

He bobbles it!

He quickly recovers!

He recovers.

Scoops it up!
The throw to second!

And the throw to second!

The runner’s out!

The runner is OUT at second!!

Yeah!

Yeah!

Coach Fred comes out to bump the rock!

Coach Fred approaches to hit the rock!

The fist bump!

The fist bump!

But you win some, you lose some.

 Line drive, right past Johnson at 3rd!

Line drive, past the third baseman, Rollie J!

Look at him hustle!

Look at him hustle!

It's heading into the outfield!

That’s gonna be an error on Johnson, folks!

This is gonna be an error on Johnson.

The left fielder picks it up.

The left fielder comes in to back up Johnson.

We just keep on telling him it’s not about winning, it’s about how you play the game. You always wear your helmet to bat. You wait patiently in the hole. You listen to the dugout mom.

You Put on Your Helmet and Wait Patiently In the Hole

You practice your swing when you’re on deck.

You Practice Your Swing On Deck

You choke up the bat and keep your eye on the ball.

Eyes on the Ball!
You swing for the wall!

The Swing! He Gets the Hit!

You run it out, no matter what.

The Play's at First!

Don’t worry about where the ball is, just run it out!

Run it out!

You make sure you touch the bag!

Safe!

And you lead off a little at third, keeping your eye on the batter, and listening to the coach for the go-ahead.

You Lead Off a Little When You're On Third Base, Eyes on the Batter

I am so proud of my boy. He’s really getting it. And I think he is enjoying it, too. And that’s the best part.

A Halloween Story

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

Last night, we took the kids trick or treating, despite the misty rain, and the mud, and the fact that the Gators were still in the midst of kicking Georgia’s ass. Sometimes, it is better to just walk away and eat candy and drink beer.

Rollie was a mummy (Not that fun a costume to put together, and even worse to remove! Like the old school costume ideas, though.) and Tills was a cheerleader. We went to meet neighbors a couple of streets over for a neighborhood tradition. A family has always done a pinata before trick or treating. It started with just a family or two, but over the years, has ballooned to tons of neighborhood kids showing up to take a shot at the pinata. I think they even have two pinatas, one for the big kids and one for the little ones. So many people show up that I dropped candy off the day before to help out. The whole thing is a ball of candy frenzy, but so much fun. It gives the parents a chance to group, pour themselves a drink (everyone has a cup or a rolling cooler with them), chat while the kids wait in line for their turn to whack the pinata, and to check out all the costumes in the floodlights of the driveway. When the pinata finally cracks open, candy rains from the sky, and the scramble for booty begins. One mother in my neighborhood aptly referred to it as “like a scene out of Lord of the Flies.” I loved that book! Perhaps not for everyone, though.

After that, we all give our thanks and head around the loop to trick or treat. The bigger kids race from door to door, their parents yelling, “slow down! It isn’t a race! Wait for your sister! You’re going to trip over something cutting through a dark yard like that! Don’t ring that doorbell! Porch light off means they aren’t giving out candy!” The shrieks and yells carry through the night, echoing off the houses. The parents walk down the middle of the street, then weave to one side or the other, depending on which house the kids are going to. Occasionally, the kids stop at the parents to yell excitedly that a certain house gave a certain something awesome. Some houses have scary stuff – motion-activated sound machines or mummies and vampires that pop up when the kids approach the steps. One got Tiller so bad that she turned around and ran back across the yard, to the sound of myself and todd roaring in laughter. Parents drag coolers or wagons or push strollers (they make great drink transportation!) The little ones get tired about 3/4 of the way and start dragging and wanting up to be carried or in the wagon. (“Baby, Mama’s cooler’s in the wagon. You better keep walking.”) We finally finish the loop and head home, the kids wild-eyed and digging into their candy before we get there. We visit the old folks around us, which we should have done before going to the pinata, but damn it, Mummies are hard to wrap. The old folks make over the kids and the kids stumble over their words trying to explain everything that they saw, and who was dressed up as what.

Then you get home, and you let the kids have some candy. (Yes, we are terrible and limited their intake right before bed. We wash off mummy makeup and take off saddle oxfords and tights and tuck them into bed, visions of pumpkins and candy dancing in their heads.

Then we rummage through their candy, and pour ourselves a drink. Finally, we walk out into the carport to blow out the candles in the pumpkin and step on a pile of muddy shoes, twisting our ankle and bumping our head on the brick wall, our screams of agony resonating throughout the neighborhood under a Waxing Gibbous moon. We limp back to the couch with the help of our husband, who brings us a water, Ibuprofen, a bag of frozen fruit, and a beer. We prop our foot up, icing it and watching The Night of the Living Dead.