Hook a Left, Alumni Band!

Pssst.  Know any Ohio University Alumni Band Members?
If so, can you forward this to them?  I would be most appreciative.
Ohio University's Homecoming is October 13th, and everyone is getting excited!


Hey, Alumni Band!
Let's cut to the chase. You are in the top 5 best things about Ohio University's homecoming.

Here is my scientifically researched Top Five List.
As a psychology and English major, by "scientifically researched" I mean "my own opinion." Since I am a Bobcat, I am certain all of my fellow Bobcats will agree with my "research."

Top 5 Best Things About OU's Homecoming:

#5.  Drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#4.  Watching the homecoming parade while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#3.  Hanging out before the game at Tailgate Park while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#2.  Going late to the game because you're drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever, and you know you can miss part of the first half of the game as long as you don't miss halftime.

#1.  Watching the Alumni Band perform during the parade, at Tailgate Park, and at the football game all while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

Can't wait to do these 5 things again this October!

We'll line up along Court Street to await the parade....

What?

Are you kidding me?

Ohio University has changed the parade route?
Errrrrr....

So the current plan is to start the parade down at the bottom of a steep hill.
Basically think of it as the bowels of Ohio University.  It's a lovely spot if you're into bowels.

My hubby once rented an apartment in that same bowel area when he was an O.U. student. It's since been destroyed because it was so heinous. Even by bachelor, fraternity boy standards it was heinous. Great place to start a parade.

The route will require parade participants to walk up hill on a winding street.  I'm going out on a limb here, but that hill is pretty darn steep for 21 year olds carrying book-bags. I'm wondering how older mature alumni members will feel carrying their tubas and drums up that hill?

Alumni Band, may I make one teeny, tiny suggestion?

When you arrive at Court Street, can you hook a left?  If only for a few blocks yards.

Yeah, you're supposed to take a right thereby hardly performing at all on your beloved Court Street.
 Yeah, OU says the route has been changed for "safety reasons."
Yeah, following the parade route would be the sensible, conservative, and obedient approach to take.

Yeah.

Um. (pause)  You don't strike me as a sensible, conservative, obedient band.  And I mean that as a compliment.

You are Rock Stars!
You want to please your fans, leave a mark on the world, and be unique.
You play that funky music while gyrating and dancing.  You know you want to play on Court Street. It's in your bones!  You've been playing on Court Street for decades.  You don't want to return to OU just to play in the bowels when you can frolic thru the main artery. You want to play Court Street.

I know you do and Bobcat Nation wants you to do so, too!

Hook a left!  Please hook a left.

And while you're at it, play that funky music!

Sleep Overs

The person who coined the term "sleep over" was either an adult who never had children or they meant the expression as in "sleep is over and will never happen during the course of this evening."  I'm not sure which.

I'm blessed with children of two different genders. I have a daughter and a farting creature son.  Here's the thing I know with absolute certainty:  although both are absolutely capable of being disgusting in their own right, girls are marginally more civilized than boys.

A girl's idea of a sleep over is to eventually cuddle and giggle their way into the night. They whisper and talk in hushed tones fully believing the silly parent will believe they are sleeping.

Boys, on the other hand, are too busy making farting and belching sounds.  They don't have the good sense to even try to fake out the responsible adult.  This eventually leads to the parent having to threaten their own son while dropping veiled threats and innuendoes about the likelihood of ever having another "sleep over."

"Sleep overs" loosely follow this schedule:

6 PM:  Son's friend arrives
6:01 PM:  Boys begin running throughout the house with high pitched squealing that reminds mother that she has wine in the refrigerator.
6:22 PM:  Boys begin loudly playing video games.  Mother takes 2 ibuprofen with water.
8:12 PM:  Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8: 22 pm:  Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8:30 pm:   Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8:37 pm:  Boys loudly eat snack and put on PJs.  Proper dental care is overrated.
8:45 pm:  Mother opens refrigerator and then closes it.  She's just comforted by knowing the wine is in there should she need it.
8:47 pm:  Boys decide to dump every Lego on the bedroom floor so they can "find them better."
8:52 pm: Loud fart sounds and hysterical laughter erupt from the room.
9:15 pm:  Loud fart sounds and hysterical laughter continue to erupt from the room.
9:16 pm:  Mother continues to ignore the loud farts and hysterical laughter.
9:30 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
9:41 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
9:52 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
10:00 pm:  Mother enters room against her better judgement to find sleeping bags on the floor covering 2 million legos and another 2 million legos have been tossed into her son's underwear drawer.
10:01 pm:  Mother tells boys to whisper or read quietly.  "It's time to slow down," she says sweetly.
10:01 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
10:01 pm:  Mother decides one glass of wine would not hurt anyone.
10:30 pm:  Mother goes back to son's room and tells the boys it's time for lights out.
10:30 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
11:00 pm:  Mother develops an illogical belief.  If she clenches her teeth and speaks without moving her jaw (creating a very attractive facial expression), She believes only her child can hear her.
11:01 pm:  With clenched teeth she says, "If. You. Don't. Put. Your. Head. Down. Now. You. Will. Never. Have. Another. Sleep. Over. ... EEEVVVEEERRR."  She hisses that last word because she is already sleep deprived and she is morphing into something scary and unpredictable.
11:02 pm: Mother's hissing has absolutely no impact on her son.  The other child asks her son, "Hey, your mom is talking funny. Why she sound like that?"
11:03 pm:  Mother gives her son "the look" (I don't need to describe that, right?).
11:03 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
11:05 pm:  Mother realizes first glass of wine has had absolutely no impact on anything.
11:15 pm:  Mother sips second glass of wine while listening to fart sounds echo down the hall.
11:37 pm:  Mother passes out falls asleep to the sound of boys farting and belching.
9:59 am:  Mother sweetly tells the other mother that the boys were "delightful" and "we should do this again at your house."

River Truths

This past weekend my family got an offer we could not refuse.
We were invited by friends to spend the day frolicking on the Ohio River.

To protect my friends' identities I am going to choose totally fictitious names for them. I've completely made these names up, and my friends can try to figure out who is who because I am never going to tell.

Kristen Wiig, Amy Poehler, Claire Dunphy and I had a fabulous afternoon. I even met a new friend who I'll call Mia Rudolph.

There are some universal truths about river life. Although I am no expert, and I absolutely MUST research this more, I believe I have unearthed some of these truths.

Again, these are river truths. If you've never spent the day out on the river, you'll just need to take my word for it:

• Life on the river is in a unique time zone. Time stands still, and then suddenly an entire afternoon disappears in a blink. Strange, right?

• Everyone pees in the river.  Everyone.  Some people are just more brazen than others.                 Kristine Wiig will squat in knee deep water and talk with you while obviously peeing in the river.

• There are really smart fish in the river. The fish stay away from those who are fishing but stay close to those who are floating. You can't always see them, but they are there. Just ask Claire.

• Other people enjoy spending time with your children and you enjoy spending time with other people's children. I considered swimming off with Amy Poehler's baby. That baby is just too darn cute!

• Tubing should be an Olympic sport. My friends and I would definitely bring home the gold! The gold goes to Claire, Mia, Kristen and me for our flawless tubing performance.

• Tubing will leave rug-burns on your elbows and any other bodily surface that is repeatedly thrown and tossed around on a tube. Gold medals come at a price!

• Naming your raft is not required but recommended. Our raft, in the words of Kristen Wiig, is the Moms I'd Like to Friend (MILF) raft.

• Children can eat whatever they want.  In other words, 6 handfuls of chips + 2 pieces of cake = dinner.

• Grown-ups can eat whatever they want.  In other words, beer + beer + beer = dinner

• A bratwurst hot tub is a gourmet delicacy. Amy Poehler showed her cooking brilliancy with that one!

• The river life promotes sharing. Mia, Kristen, and Amy seemingly share everything like boats, cottages, campers, food and beverages. They are just so generous they share it all (except husbands, of course. One of those is enough for any woman. Who needs 2?) This makes me think I may just need to move my van down by the river. I could hang with my friends while living out of my van. Do you think they would notice?

All of this to say, the river life rocks!
What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon!

I AM HOT

I am hot.
Not in a supermodel sort of way.
I am hot in a fry an egg on my face sort of way.

Yes, of course our air conditioner breaks on the hottest weekend. Of course.

Here is what I now know about heat. Heat makes you do stupid things.

I was so hot I went grocery shopping for 2.5 hours. I hung out in the meat section just to be cool.

Ahhhh, the relief a large rack of frozen ribs can bring a women who is nearing heat stroke hotness. Yes, I got some strange looks while clutching the frozen rack of ribs to my breast, but screw 'em. It is H.O.T., people!

I also got similar "What the heck is wrong with that lady" glances in the dairy section when I nearly crawled into the refrigerator unit with the milk cartons. Fortunately, no one was around when I walked the length of the frozen food section with a package of frozen peas balanced on the back of my neck.

Don't judge me when I am hot and doing everything in my power not to return to my own home.

Upon arriving home, my husband proudly announced it was only 88 degrees inside our house. I believe I responded with words that would be bleeped out if this blog were televised.

Did I mention I'm hot?

When I'm hot, people are really annoying. Especially children who are seemingly oblivious to the heat. They actually want to do things. They want and expect me to do things that require moving. Don't they know how hot it is? Moving only makes it worse. Moving it bad.

The only cure for heat is to sit nearly naked in cold water while drinking plenty of fluids. And by "fluids" I mean alcohol. Duh. I'm fairly certain my sweat glands are on overdrive even while submerged in cold water.

The only plus I see in any of this is I am fairly certain I've lost a few pounds.
Sure, it's 2-3 pounds of sweat, but I'll take it. Yes, I'll take it.

Now I've got to go. I am headed back to the grocery store to spend some quality time with that rack of ribs.

How to Ruin a Perfectly Good Saturday

Here is a recipe for how to ruin a perfectly good Saturday:

Plan a Garage Sale

Ingredients:

* An obscene amount of junk treasures from your home. Ideally, the amount is just short of earning you the esteemed title, Hoarder. The items should include children's clothing from 8-10 years ago, at least one incomplete set of dishes, used sheets, an assortment of trashy novels, no less than eight naked barbies (some of whom have lost limbs and most of whom have suffered grotesque haircuts), and at least one prom dress from 1989.

* One tank of gas and your car

* A friend's garage

* Five to six evenings of your life and one Saturday

* A fake smile and a dash of humor

* A calculator

* Alcohol


Steps

1. Take all of the "exquisite" items described above from the bowels of your own home to the garage of a friend's home. Since you have an embarrassing amount of stuff, you will need to make approximately 47 trips to her home to unload items that could just as easily been thrown out or given away directly from your own home. Don't stop to think about this. Just load van, empty van, repeat.

2. Place individual price-tags on all 6.7 million items you have dumped in your friend's garage. Items will range in price from 10 cents to $2. Don't screw up this step! This could make the difference between making a penny and $1.50 (since no one pays full price at a yard sale). Multiply that by the 6.7 million items you have hauled across town, and just imagine how obscenely rich you will become!

3. Ignore the judgement you see in your friend's eyes and pretend she is joking when she calls you "a hoarder."

4. Talk endlessly about how great the weather has been thus causing Mother Nature to take notice (more on this later).

5. Do steps #1-4 repeatedly over the course of five or six evenings. In the process spend very little time with your own family. This will please your husband so much that he may express his satisfaction by ceasing to talk to you.

6. Wake up before the crack of dawn on Saturday to the sound of heavy rain. Or is that hail? Notice the temperature has dropped, and the rain is never stopping and ice cold.

7. Arrive at your friend's home to find people there at the crack of dawn.

8. Smile fake smile when you say, "Sure, I'll take a nickel for that."

9. Realize you cannot subtract 35 cents from twenty dollars. Do not be embarrassed about using a calculator. It's the crack of freaking dawn and you're sleep and caffeine deprived! What's wrong with these people?

9. Screw the caffeine and enjoy your first alcoholic drink at 1 PM.

10. Count out the $37 you made and declare the garage sale a huge success.

11. Bag up all of the remaining 6.6 million items. Donate half of the items. Inexplicably convince yourself that the other items need to be returned to the bowels of your home.

12. Load van, empty van, repeat.

13. Make plans to have another garage sale next year.

My Love Letter to Friday

(Best if read aloud with an overly dramatic and wanting voice. Go ahead. No one is watching or listening to you. Do it. Read it like a wanton woman!)


My Dearest Friday,

We've only been separated for a few days, and already I long to see you again.

The mere thought of you brings a smile to my lips and a swing to my step. You arrive faithfully each week bringing hope for pleasant days ahead. Your visits are so short that I cannot help but want more of you.

Whether you arrive on a rainy day or a sunny one, I greet you with arms stretched wide. I shout my love for you to all who care to hear. The longer we are together, the more you give me hope that my 9 to 5 job will eventually end. Oh, the joy I feel when I leave work and can fully focus on you!

At the risk of cheapening our pure relationship, I must confess that I'm particularly fond of the visits when you bring me a check. Bless you for those visits. Those "pay days" remind me why I endure the days prior to your arrival. I wish they occurred more frequently, but I still love all of your visits. I am helpless to resist your charm.

In your absence, Monday is rude and conspires against me. Monday does not understand me the way you do. Monday tries to break me, but thoughts of you keep me strong.

Wednesday thinks he is something special, but the only humping I do is with you. Friday, you're my hump day.

At times Saturday tries to seduce me. I cannot keep that truth from you. Saturday offers all of himself to me, but I find myself cleaning, shopping, and running endless, at times mind-numbing, errands. Saturday can sometimes be high maintenance and overly ambitious. You ask nothing of me. You wait for my work day to end and then you tease me with the possibilities....oh...the endless possibilities!

Like a parched person craves water, I search for you.
Like a child on Christmas, I wait breathlessly with anticipation.
Like a sugar addict in a candy store, I crave you.
Like a reality TV star on Bravo, I overreact just thinking about you.
Like an employee waiting for the end of each work week, I....well...

Friday, I love you.