Melting My Brain

If you wanted to buy me this shirt, that'd be cool.

Hey you guys! Do you know that my football team is good? Like really really good? It is! And that's awesome! But it's also incredibly anxiety inducing. My already superstitious nature gets ramped up even more. I have two weeks to prep and freak out about the big huge giant game against the University of Alabama taking place on November 5th. Which CBS has mercifully made a night game. I say mercifully because these day games are killing my liver.

Yesterday we played Auburn at 12:30, west coast time. A gorgeous Saturday that I spent in the depths of a bar. Bar None to be exact. I eschewed going to the LSU bar just because I needed a change of scenery. In fact, I really wasn't gonna go out at all. I was gonna stay home and watch it. But everyone was at my house which inhibits my enjoyment of it. And I'm having some serious mom issues at the moment. Mostly she's doing that whole mothering thing, and since I'm at base still a 15 year old, I butt up against.

I thought about just watching it at the beach house but considering that the internet wasn't working last weekend there during party prep/the Tennessee game, I was wary of trying it again. (The party was amazing, by the way. More on that some other day. Or maybe not.) I also don't trust streaming live games. ESPN3 sucks. I wasn't sure CBS's site would be much better.

So off I headed to the Marina with Cheryl, who is always game for my crazy plans. Days at Bar None are pretty much empty, which is great. AND they had the sound on for the LSU game, which is a bonus. There were like five people in the bar, including the bartender. And they were all friendly and chatty. The boys all seemed to know each other and were talking about the spreads in the games because I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they bet on them all. I then became interested and kept asking for spreads because I thought it was an interesting marker of how a team should be playing against an opponent. It's fascinating to see how right on the Vegas spreads are too.

We ate crappy bar food and I smack talked an Oregon fan who was talking about our anemic early scoring when we busted out in the 3rd quarter and reminded him that Oregon lost to LSU. I got in an argument with a guy in a Notre Dame alumni shirt who was a lawyer later about there being a cause of action for misrepresentation if you tell a girl you'll marry her to get her to sleep with her and then go back on that promise. I mean, no one is ACTUALLY suing for that anymore, that's 1920s stuff, but IT EXISTS! And that Notre Dame didn't believe me pissed me, and my inferiority complex about "better" schools, off.

As we were the only girls in the bar for a long time, lots and lots of drinks were purchased on our behalf. Which Cheryl always loves. It's her goal when we go out to have boys buy us drinks. And they did. And I flirted with a guy from San Jose, gave him my number but he had to disappear to continue some birthday party pub crawl so nothing came of that.

We were gonna leave the bar. But then the Bama game came on and I wanted to watch the competition. Then Oklahoma and Wisconsin games. I was pouting about some boy stuff and told Cheryl around 7 that I really needed to go, the empty beach house and it's warm back porch and lots of free liquor from the party were calling my name but for some reason we ended up staying. And eating pizza from the place upstairs. And the night kept going and going.

I was introduced to Pinnacle Whipped Cream vodka at the beach house party by my brother's girlfriend. I made fun of it for being intensely girly. But really, it's straight vodka that tastes like drinking cake batter (though apparently there is also a cake flavored one too). And I was doing shots of it at 1 p.m. and then being bought MORE shots of it throughout the night. No idea how many. And Corona. We were drunkity drunk drunk. Because we'd been at the bar since 12:30 and it was now night time.

I finally decided enough was enough and went to close out my tab. It was an obscene tab. I do not have as much money as the tab was. BUT. Matty, the bartender, sorta loves me. Or just knows who I am related to (he knows because my brother stopped by the bar earlier when working and my last name on which I was running a tab is not common). He did love me independently though when we were smart-assing about naming all 120 college teams and he said "Name the MAC" and I went, "Uhhhh..." and he started naming the schools. As he did, I'd name the mascots of each school. When he got to Central Michigan, I said, "The Chippewas" which he was impressed by. Endearing myself to men with random football knowledge since the mid-90s.

Anyway, our tab was halved. And then I split that with Cheryl and considering we'd now been sitting our asses at the same bar for several hours, it really wasn't that bad. Except right as I closed out our tab and Matty offered us more free drinks, my brother's best friends showed up, who I consider my dear friends too and so then we stayed even longer. And then followed them to another bar where we know even more people. And then Cheryl and I drunkenly stumbled back to her place up a big giant hill that I do not remember at all walking up and had to text her today asking how we got from bar #2 back to her house. When she told me I laughed.

So yeah. A night kickoff is preferable.

On the upside, I'm too hungover today to really be anxious about the Bama game yet. But starting tomorrow I'll obsess about our chances of success and do my part to have some impact on the outcome even though I don't actually possess such power. Just don't tell my brain that, it believes otherwise.