I was at BW3’s last night and realized that another season of college football had begun. Apparently, though, screaming baby and hyper undisciplined white trash child season was still in full effect. I need to learn how to use a blowgun. Oh look, you did make a ketchup pool on my table! (Dart to neck) That’s it, take a nap.
I love college football Saturdays. The weather recedes, which is good because I instantly sweat at anything over 77 degrees. Me and the boys go to the bar (our hangout closed down, evidently it is illegal to operate without a valid liquor license – currently free agents at the moment) and pound some beers screaming at the TV. The routine is quite solid. If Ohio State is winning, we order the crappy promotional shots and high five more aggressively with each shot. If losing, we scream obscenities and leave early…and drink angrily at home. No matter what, I have enough to convince myself $14 is a reasonable amount to spend at Taco Bell and get the shit sweats 30 minutes later as I debate whether I can make it home in time or do the ol’ bar bathroom hover method. After $14 worth of tacos, the hover method usually wins.