I hear a few bars of a classic song like "Don't Stop Believing" or "Let's Do the Time Warp Again" coming from the adjacent room. I get excited and feel an unstoppable urge to jump up and sing/dance/the whole nine yards.
I then realize that the inhabitant of the adjacent room is playing her Glee CD.
Disappointment. Shame. Sorrow.
Like I was saying yesterday...
Brittni and I arrived at the football game and took our seats by my parents. No one was really around, but there was a good hour until kickoff. People slowly trickled in, and we amused ourselves with taking pictures and commenting on the hilarity that was the visiting team section.
People continued to fill in around us as the clock ticked down to zero. We assessed the people around us, scoping to see if anyone we knew was sitting in the vicinity and such. Finally, it was time for kickoff. And we met our dear friends.
1.) Angry Guy: Angry Guy was angry. Really angry. And by Jove, everyone was going to know he was angry. He was angry at the coaches for calling bad plays. He was angry at the quarterback for having sticky fingers. He was angry at the opposing team for doing well. He was angry at the referees for just about everything. He was angry at his boss and his therapist. (I'm just speculating about this. I don't doubt it, though.) Angry guy had perfected the skill "leaping up onto your feet the second an unacceptable call is made and pointing angrily at the field while yelling expletives so loudly that the players down on the field can probably hear you from your nosebleed seats." He made it an art form, truly.
2.) Ditzy 1 and Ditzy 2: Ditzy 1 and Ditzy 2 sat behind us with their friends Vapid and Clueless. These four said such gems as, "People are cheering, does that mean we scored?" and "If he ran to the far end, do we get a point?" Although each of the women was between fifty-four and sixty-three (just a guess), they spent the majority of the game attempting fruitlessly to take pictures of themselves with one of their iPhone 4's. It was...yeah.
3.) Male Stripper: Male Stripper was a big fan of the home team, and he wanted everyone to know of his deep-seeded love for the team. So, of course, the logical choice was to paint his entire chestular region red, front and back, and spend the whole game shirtless. And, logically, he wore Mardi Gras beads. 'Twould be silly not to. I'm thinking his mental train of thought went something like this: "Dude, I love this team. Like so much. I need to rep mah dogs. But this body paint and completely inappropriate necklaces don't speak loudly enough of my love for this team. You know what would make it better? A pound of silver body glitter. That's it. Done."
Needless to say, it was an interesting game. Watching the parade of drunkards wearing hooker heels attempt to navigate the hills in the stadium was entertaining (and disconcerting) beyond belief, I can assure you.
Today was a good day.