Sanis Prent
Oct 27th, 2002, 11:56:07 AM
This weekend can't be any more totally rad than its already been, and I've still got the better half of a sunday to go through.
Friday -
After finding out the previous night that I have <a href=http://www.ring-themovie.com>seven days to live</a>, and kicking the stuffing out of an accounting test, I was itching to have a good weekend. I earned it. I know whats coming. The Tennessee Game. I hate Tennessee. I hate them so much I can taste it in my balls. There is nothing uglier than that shade of orange. I forced my sister's boyfriend to take down his tennessee flag if he wanted to see my sister. I hate Tennessee. I hate Rocky Top, and all their craptastic hillbilly shenanigans. Don't bother asking my "special lyrics" to Rocky Top. They make sailors blush. We've lost to them for seven years straight, but its the nature of the rivalry to win or lose in long streaks. The first time I ever saw Tennessee beat Alabama was in 1995, when Peyton Manning let loose an evil passing barrage. I remember I was at a girl's halloween party. I haven't been to a halloween party and a Tennessee game at once ever since. Until this year. Seven years later. Lucky seven. I feel the need to scratch a seven year itch, and I can feel this win in my bones.
After class, I hurry from T-town to B'ham, making my high school's homecoming game, and the first game I've seen the Cougars play in 2 years. They trounced a cross-town rival, and played one of the best games I've seen in high-school ball. I talk with old friends, and remember the old days. All is happy. Suddenly, I'm invited to not one, but two halloween parties...one happening after the game. So why not...I truck it on over to the ghetto, and enter my friend's mad house. Black lights, fog machines, strobes, bubble machines, disco balls, and more seizure-inducing eye candy. I drink, I chat, I am merry. The cops crash the party. Hello Mr. Cop, I am 21, go away. Cops leave. We sing karaoke...badly. After the buzz fades, I drive home, and sleep.
Saturday -
I go to my friend Drew's house, to watch Auburn beat LSU. No, not beat them...annihilate them. Unranked nobody Auburn, dismantling number ten LSU. Bad day to bet on football again. Fortunately I'm too poor to bet. I pull for Auburn, because I humor my best friend, since he's an Auburn fan. Deep inside, I'm frowning. Oh well. Notre Dame versus Florida State. Dear God, who do I hate more? Maybe I could convincingly pull for one if they were playing Hitler...but I am confuzled. Maybe a Goodyear blimp will crash on the field...maybe. I hate FSU because they're FSU. I am genetically engineered to hate Notre Dame. All my friends are Catholic, and I am converting. They tell me this presents a problem...because you just don't pull against the Irish. But I am an Alabama fan...this means I cannot like or forgive the Irish for their 1966 robbery. Also they are one national championship away from tying our record. I wouldn't mind the Irish placing 2nd this season...but God don't let them be number one. In spite, I pull for the Hurricanes as they trounce West Virginia. I need a bath...I feel corrupted. The games end and me and my friend go costume shopping for the party. He is a vampire. I am a werewolf. No suprise there.
I end up missing the first half of the Bama-Tennessee game, so I can drive my friend to Saginaw, so he can get the rest of his costume. We listen on radio...and I am speeding. My blood is pumping and I am into the game. Gerald Dixon makes me take back every ill word I've spoken of him. Go Watts. Go Croyle. Roll Tide Roll! We finally make it to the party, and I pop my fangs in, which are adhered to my teeth with chewing gum. Take that, MacGuyver. Applying some fresh fake blood to my lips and face, I howl to a moon that isn't there. A buddy of mine is dressed as a Catholic Cardinal, and throws "holy water" on Mat...we all laugh...and go to watch the 2nd half of the game.
Ladies, ladies, everywhere. I get into character, which involves pawing backside, growling, and sniffing. Woof Woof...and I'm a hit. One girl is dressed as a snow bunny. She gets it bad, but she loves it.
Back to the game. 14-7 at the half, but the Tide steps it up. Clausen can't pass. He's sacked, hurried, and picked. They get one more touchdown, but its too little, too late. Bama wins, 34-14! The Seven Year Itch...scratched! Roll Tide Roll! I eat a bag of orange cheetos. Go to Hell, Tennessee! Now...I'm ready to party. Line me up tequila shooters, even if I hate the worm juice. Blarg @ Montezuma. I chase with whiskey from my flask. The cops arrive...again! Hello Mr. Cop, I'm 21. Go away. They leave. We party. Dance, howl, grope...maybe. Beer me. Hunch Punch me. I've waited for this day for seven years! Girls get trashed. Snow bunny gets skinned. AwooOOooo....
Sunday -
I wake up, face down on the beanbag...again! Sometime during the night, I washed away my makeup. Yay me. I pack up my gear, and head home.
Sweet Jesus, it doesn't get any better than this!
Friday -
After finding out the previous night that I have <a href=http://www.ring-themovie.com>seven days to live</a>, and kicking the stuffing out of an accounting test, I was itching to have a good weekend. I earned it. I know whats coming. The Tennessee Game. I hate Tennessee. I hate them so much I can taste it in my balls. There is nothing uglier than that shade of orange. I forced my sister's boyfriend to take down his tennessee flag if he wanted to see my sister. I hate Tennessee. I hate Rocky Top, and all their craptastic hillbilly shenanigans. Don't bother asking my "special lyrics" to Rocky Top. They make sailors blush. We've lost to them for seven years straight, but its the nature of the rivalry to win or lose in long streaks. The first time I ever saw Tennessee beat Alabama was in 1995, when Peyton Manning let loose an evil passing barrage. I remember I was at a girl's halloween party. I haven't been to a halloween party and a Tennessee game at once ever since. Until this year. Seven years later. Lucky seven. I feel the need to scratch a seven year itch, and I can feel this win in my bones.
After class, I hurry from T-town to B'ham, making my high school's homecoming game, and the first game I've seen the Cougars play in 2 years. They trounced a cross-town rival, and played one of the best games I've seen in high-school ball. I talk with old friends, and remember the old days. All is happy. Suddenly, I'm invited to not one, but two halloween parties...one happening after the game. So why not...I truck it on over to the ghetto, and enter my friend's mad house. Black lights, fog machines, strobes, bubble machines, disco balls, and more seizure-inducing eye candy. I drink, I chat, I am merry. The cops crash the party. Hello Mr. Cop, I am 21, go away. Cops leave. We sing karaoke...badly. After the buzz fades, I drive home, and sleep.
Saturday -
I go to my friend Drew's house, to watch Auburn beat LSU. No, not beat them...annihilate them. Unranked nobody Auburn, dismantling number ten LSU. Bad day to bet on football again. Fortunately I'm too poor to bet. I pull for Auburn, because I humor my best friend, since he's an Auburn fan. Deep inside, I'm frowning. Oh well. Notre Dame versus Florida State. Dear God, who do I hate more? Maybe I could convincingly pull for one if they were playing Hitler...but I am confuzled. Maybe a Goodyear blimp will crash on the field...maybe. I hate FSU because they're FSU. I am genetically engineered to hate Notre Dame. All my friends are Catholic, and I am converting. They tell me this presents a problem...because you just don't pull against the Irish. But I am an Alabama fan...this means I cannot like or forgive the Irish for their 1966 robbery. Also they are one national championship away from tying our record. I wouldn't mind the Irish placing 2nd this season...but God don't let them be number one. In spite, I pull for the Hurricanes as they trounce West Virginia. I need a bath...I feel corrupted. The games end and me and my friend go costume shopping for the party. He is a vampire. I am a werewolf. No suprise there.
I end up missing the first half of the Bama-Tennessee game, so I can drive my friend to Saginaw, so he can get the rest of his costume. We listen on radio...and I am speeding. My blood is pumping and I am into the game. Gerald Dixon makes me take back every ill word I've spoken of him. Go Watts. Go Croyle. Roll Tide Roll! We finally make it to the party, and I pop my fangs in, which are adhered to my teeth with chewing gum. Take that, MacGuyver. Applying some fresh fake blood to my lips and face, I howl to a moon that isn't there. A buddy of mine is dressed as a Catholic Cardinal, and throws "holy water" on Mat...we all laugh...and go to watch the 2nd half of the game.
Ladies, ladies, everywhere. I get into character, which involves pawing backside, growling, and sniffing. Woof Woof...and I'm a hit. One girl is dressed as a snow bunny. She gets it bad, but she loves it.
Back to the game. 14-7 at the half, but the Tide steps it up. Clausen can't pass. He's sacked, hurried, and picked. They get one more touchdown, but its too little, too late. Bama wins, 34-14! The Seven Year Itch...scratched! Roll Tide Roll! I eat a bag of orange cheetos. Go to Hell, Tennessee! Now...I'm ready to party. Line me up tequila shooters, even if I hate the worm juice. Blarg @ Montezuma. I chase with whiskey from my flask. The cops arrive...again! Hello Mr. Cop, I'm 21. Go away. They leave. We party. Dance, howl, grope...maybe. Beer me. Hunch Punch me. I've waited for this day for seven years! Girls get trashed. Snow bunny gets skinned. AwooOOooo....
Sunday -
I wake up, face down on the beanbag...again! Sometime during the night, I washed away my makeup. Yay me. I pack up my gear, and head home.
Sweet Jesus, it doesn't get any better than this!