When Windows Attack

14 Sep

Let’s be honest. We live in the south, therefore we live for football. We dress ridiculously and have ridiculous mascots and are all very proud of ourselves on Saturdays in the Fall for being so creative with our attire.

I also completely support painting yourself and the use of live animals to rile up a crowd, but poor Spirit, Auburn’s eagle, took a beating this past Saturday in the form of a luxury box window: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgF6UJ5UgUs

So this got me thinking. Why doesn’t Alabama have an elephant? I think it would be a great idea. Paint the elephant with crimson tribal paint and get him all excited and then send him into a stadium packed with screaming fans. I thought logically there MUST be a reason why we do not have a live elephant running around TTown. This is why: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVaVp12WI0A 

See how pretty the elephant was? They dressed him up and he acted like a drunk sorority girl at Gallettes- running around and sloppily bulldozing his elephant and human friends. Maybe it’s a good call that we avoid live pacaderms at football games. Good call.

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Roe Tide.

6 Sep

8am: Saturday began with a bang for me. Me banging my head against the wall because I was hungover or still drunk- I am still undecided on which it was because I began drinking fervently before the fog in my head could become painful and I could decipher my mental state. It was GAMEDAY. I shivered at the smell of whiskey on the air as I excitedly showered, donned my crimson and grabbed my shaker. Little did I know that I would realize in just a few short hours how old I had become in the extent of a year’s time.

9am: I graduated from the great Title Town only a few months ago, but I had clearly lost my touch with reality when I realized that the game started at 11:20 and I would be expected to Roll with the Tide all day. As in, 13+ hours. An hour for every championship, naturally. I won’t lie. I was extremely pumped as we rolled onto campus- me and the newlyweds that now comprise my entire friend base. This particular couple happens to be very partial to me, so I accept their wedding vows as unchangeable and they accept me as a permanent 3rd wheel and sister wife.

10:30am: We sat front row in the South End Zone and gorged ourselves on free liquor, free cheese fries, free burgers, free ice cream, free mashed taters just cause we could… free pretty much everything you could ever want. And if it’s free, then you must eat or drink it. It’s a rule. Look it up. I still regret the 2 red velvet cupcakes. But they were crimson and had A emblem M&M’s on them. So I had to eat 2. After the W, we were feeling particularly frisky and headed to the Strip for some post-game rowdiness.

4pm: I was taking tequila shots like it was my job and chasing them with Diet Coke just to survive. And while this may have been normal if I hadn’t been drinking since 9:30am, I had been drinking since 9:30am. That’s when I began to hit my drunk wall. This is the wall you encounter when your brain refuses to accept more alcohol and your body rejects the thought of committing to any more tipsyness. I began sneakily sipping Diet Coke minus alcohol.

7pm: We decided a game of darts would be a good idea. It wasn’t. Me and the sister wife were playing our friend who works for NASA. She’s a wee bit competitive if you can imagine and began noticing our numbers were rising while we were not actually succeeding. Violence and punishment in the form of more shots ensued.

10:30pm. I failed. I succumbed to Jimmy Johns and headed home for a feast, courtesy of a drive from my little brother.

Maybe though in retrospect this wasn’t just a trip to celebrate football or to drink alcohol or eat Jimmy Johns. Maybe the trip down by thousands of fans did more and meant more to the TTown community then imaginable. Maybe it’s for being dedicated alumni and pumping our measley salaries into a town that needs everything right now. Maybe it will keep the spirit going of a campus that badly needs a distraction from the depressing tornado-wrecked skyline. Maybe it will keep hope alive in the family members that still struggle over the loss of loved ones. Maybe it will help all of us keep Ttown Up, and Never Down.

I’m not sure if you noticed…

30 Aug

But I tend to be a little on the eccentrically weird side. And apparently I tend towards being aggressive and exuberant about eating and drinking. And I like my commodes presentable.

but what I’ve really learned this week about myself? I care. About a lot of things.

I care about my friends. I have amazingly stupendous people in my life and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for them. They’ve held my hands through the bad and good, through the bowling catastrophes and victories, through the eye twitches, the spilled margaritas and lost cheese dip…I daresay, through it all.

My days are not usually dignified, nor are they world-changing, but to have a friend that will sit there and let you make a noise like a whale on the office phone and not shudder? Those are the real gems in life. Those are the moments that matter and make you.

To have a friend that understands you, at your worst, sitting in silence and not having the words to express your emotions…yet they stand there and you know they’re there and that’s all you need to help the moment pass and to be able to breathe a little easier. To make your day a little less boring, a little less depressing, a little better. Those are what friends are for. That’s what I am for.

Don’t ever forget the power you have to make or break someone’s day.

Thanks for all the people who have made my day some day. I’ll always be here to help make yours…sorry if it comes in the form of a whale call. Beggars can’t be choosers. 🙂

The Bovine Across the Hall

24 Aug

Let me begin by stating a simple fact- I am not mean. I appreciate everyone for their differences and their similarities. Whatever floats your boat is what I say. But I also say that we left cave dwelling and killing with spears behind for a reason and adopted indoor plumbing and personal hygiene as a better way of life.

You know that picture of the indian on the cave wall riding his painted pony and chasing mammoths with wooden spears? Well that was all great and groovy back in the day before indoor plumbing and universal languages. But now we have indoor plumbing. It is readily available to most creatures- there are even cats that use toilets: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQbHS4YJOMc

So WHY is it that the herd of cattle working across the hall struggles with this simple concept?! Why are our toilets constantly decimated and owned, left broken and smelly by those that regard indoor plumbing as a hole in the ground to simply squat over and leave behind in unimaginable states of disrepair. I am constantly terrified and bombarded by the things I find in the toilets/stalls that we frequent. I daresay, they have even BROKEN A TOILET SEAT. What comes out of you that causes you to break a toilet seat?! But I digress.

I pray for Maria every day that Jesus clogs her nostrils and leads her in and out of the warzones that those creatures leave behind. Where is the decency??

I would also suggest basic personal hygienic care as an addition to their everyday routine. Have you ever met the person who believes deoderant is for the smelly people? They just haven’t realized that they’re the smelly person! The cattle that thrive across the hall should remain across the hall until they decide to trade in their spears for deoderant and their lack of manners for a new outlook on life that involves flushing.

Fairy Pants Dance

17 Aug

I could do this all day…strut around the Dizzle like a proud chicken.

The cupcake and cheese dip came through…not to mention my pure bowling skills. WE WON! We are the Grand Bowling Champions! If you knew me, you would be shocked and maybe humiliated by my actual bowling skills and the fact that me and Theophilus attacked and dominated 15 other teams in our league. Granted I did go from a 65 to an average score of 100, but still. Thank God for handicaps. And you’re welcome Theo for my Fairy Pants dance. It’s what put us over the top in awesomeness.

Wednesdays are not usually this cool because generally after a victory we return to the cube farm to stomp around and munch for the rest of the day. However, due to the fortunate events of figuratively raping our opponents, we went to Sno Biz: the greatest invention, well, maybe ever.

Crush up some ice and throw in some flavored sugar and you got yourself a real treat. Something to go bananas over. I wish I just had some Vodka to toss in it…

On a related note- we have several psychos that work with us. Not to name any names, and certainly not to make them feel any kookier than they already are, but they are more strange than the average sheep. I use sheep because sheep are cute, but not known for their intelligence or knack for knowledge.

Me: “Hey feller. Are you bowling in our fall league?”

Feller swivels and then stares at me.

Me: “Why don’t you bowl? Are you anti-bowl or anti-office?”

Feller: “Anti-office” as he swivels back into his domain and sticks his head back into the mud.

Hmmmm. If I come up missing, you know where to look first.

Barnyard Munchies

12 Aug

It is one of those mornings where I just realized that I have to be in a bathing suit in front of hundreds of my closest friends this weekend and most of them are skinny minnies. And by hundreds I mean a good several to few-like 20ish. And I just ate an Edgar’s cupcake. Actually, to be fair, I inhaled it. I couldn’t help it. I saw it, I wanted it, I ate it. And then I remembered that I have to look presentable tomorrow and it all came crashing down.

That was the moment I decided to eat my feelings and get mexican for FFL. That would be Fun Friday Lunch to any outsiders who will most likely never read this. I can imagine the shame I’ll be feeling after lunch when I come rolling back into the office, but until then, I am really excited about all the cheese that’s about to enter my body.

Maybe this blatant disregard for eating healthily will increase my bowling skills for next week’s playoffs. This is the excuse I am already formulating for Theophilus (my partner) when he shoots me one of his death ray looks as my ball misses all the pins.

If I bowl poorly: “It was the burrito and cupcake last Friday! I can’t shake them off. They’re slowing me down! Why didn’t you tell me not to eat them? IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.”

but if I bowl well: “YES!!! It must have been the cheese dip from Friday propelling the ball as my arm weighs a good lb more. Team-mate high five! You’re so lucky I bowl with you.”

Now in all fairness, I’m not a chunky monkey. I’m not even chunky, really. Well I only jiggle more than I used to and that is annoying enough to warrant me being upset. Not to take into account that I used to be extremely active and now all I do is sit in my stall with my barnyard critter friends and munch all day. Damn the free cupcakes…and the donut I ate yesterday.

Do I look focused?

11 Aug

I am constantly looking for ways to avoid my time spent staring at an Excel spreadsheet. Bowling Wednesdays are really helpful because they occupy about an hour and a 1/2 of my day and fill it with yells and random dances of victory- but most importantly ranchy chicken fingers. All of these things make me really happy in the small scheme that is my life. And while an hour and a 1/2 is a delightful time span spent away from the cube farm, the rest of my day is spent in it. Trapped. And yes, I referenced a cube farm. It’s a real ‘adult’ term that people that live in cubes like me use to describe the lives they spend being able to see there neighbors but still be separated by sheets of glass- like animals. In stalls…at a farm…see where I’m going with this?

So I must root around in the cyber world for things that I consider “worth my time” and can apply to my daily life, such as: pictures of cute animals, pictures of people attacked by animals, videos of animals dancing, videos of people dancing with animals, videos of animals dancing with animals, pictures of people with animals….well, you get the gist.

And then I am sent things like a picture of a meatloaf cake shaped like a baby on my work email from a farm animal down the stalls. Don’t believe that these things exist? Please visit http://www.facebook.com/pages/Meatloaf-Baby/145444178832856 and have all your nightmares come true. I cannot imagine a workplace environment in my future where I am ever sent a meatloaf baby cake…and for this, my heart weighs heavily. Or maybe I should be concerned. Hmmm.

As for focusing on my excel sheets? Maybe I would like them more if they had something half interesting on them. I don’t even get to do calculations and pretend like my job involves strategy or statistics or Cost Analysis Projections. Until then, I will work on memorizing www.cuteoverload.com and www.zooborns.com and www.teacuppiggies.com. Maybe after all of that  I will look focused.