Confession Seventeen: Dibs – Bitches!

Yes Coco – I win, not you. You may have called “Dibs” but in my infinite wisdom I am relegating you to the chocolaty desert, not the cute track boy. Here, on this ever so public forum, I am publicly commenting on David Oliver’s attractiveness … thick, cute and can speak to the media! Me Likely! … and I even know his name (Sexy USA Track Athlete does not count.).

So HA! – You can have Dwayne Wayne, and the silver medal Mr. Oliver is going to give him.

In the immortal word of Frankenstein – I WIN!

Now, for yet another moment in my “storied” career …

Yet another story from the football press box.

As I made it clear in the last blog – much like the lack of sex in the champagne room – there is no yelling in the press box.

As a GA I was in charge of post game stat copies. Not hard. Get hard copies of the stat files, send them through the copier, and send undergrads to distribute them accordingly. Rinse and repeat until about 100 people have what they need. An angry monkey could do it.

One night, as I was waiting for those copies an opposing coach (also a GA), ran out of the coaches box, through the press box, toward the elevator pumping his fists and screaming “F#(K Yeah!” after they had beat us. I never forgot that scene because it was so very unclassy.

Fast forward two years later. Once again we were hosting that same foe and guess who was still on that staff.

During the post game I like to exert my small amount of power (read: I had no problem kicking people off MY copier.) and I happened to find that goober already on my copier and in my way.

Just to clarify the point that I thought I did I have power, I marched in, gave the guy a slight hip, and hit the STOP button. Needless to say he was mad.

Very calmly I explained that I had work to do and copies for his staff was not high on that priority list, unless he was willing to give those play charts to the media as well. (service with a smile!)

By the time the guy was done screaming in my face telling me that I was in fact a “sweetheart” (sure that is what he called me), I had two runners already down to their respective press conferences.

Dude really thought he could plead with me claiming he would “lose his job” and asking if I was serious. I felt great getting the revenge batting my eyes and telling him “F#(K Yeah!” (Sorry mom and dad!).

No, it was not my classiest moment, but revenge was sweet that day, especially since we won that game. (Secretly I was proud of myself for standing my ground against such a large man. Once things calmed down I actually found my boss to apologize and explain the situation.)

Lesson learned: NO YELLING IN THE PRESS BOX!
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Now on to a more serious note, my thoughts and prayers go out to every last DMB fan, friend and most importantly, family member.

The loss of LeRoi Moore is crazy.

So many memories from my teenage years up through present day have some element of Dave Matthews underscoring the reason they are my favorites.

I considered re-telling some of those favorite memories tonight, but I am sure that those who were with me when they occurred hold them just as near to their hearts as they are to mine.

All I can say is nights at Starlake will never be the same and stage left is going to be a lonely place.

R.I.P. Roi. Enjoy the endless concert – “It’s better to leave then to be left.”

Confession Sixteen: I Miss First Day of School Outfits

In my family, we use any reason to shop.

You name the occasion and we have justified an outfit for it (Special thanks to my Mom and her best friend, Ms. Visa!).

One of my favorite reasons to shop, as if I have ever really needed one, was THE … FIRST … DAY … OF … SCHOOL … a practice that would last until at least my freshman year of college. From pre-K through junior high THE outfit was selected, worn with pride, and counted down until I could wear it again. I actually believe brides exist that found their wedding dresses much quicker and with less pain then my first day of school garb.

This outfit would remind people who you should be friends with, where you could sit in the cafeteria and once we got older, proved who was going to be the “choice hottie” that year. (I swam at the shallow end of the school’s pool)

Yes. This much consideration was put into this one coordinated effort and later in life would turn into an entire week’s worth of ‘new threads’.

Hopefully at this point you all are realizing what a cool kid I was, and for many of you, it might be surprising to think that I ever actually did my hair and make-up each morning on top of accessorizing – daily! How else was I supposed to nab a cute upper class boy friend? Once I stopped caring about answering that question, I embraced breaking dress code for the simple reason of wearing a hoodie EVERY DARN DAY.

With all of this in mind I would like to point out that today is CP’s first day of school – being the supportive girlfriend that I am, I watched one of the greatest “education” pieces ever created – BILLY MADISON – to celebrate last night. He, like Veronica Vaughn, will be going to teach, not to learn. CP has seventh graders and we may only have one full year under our belts together on his teaching resume, yet his stories never cease to amaze me. He has kids who carry cell phones (of course!), Vera Bradley purses, and can’t keep track of their voices from one moment to the next. I didn’t get my phone until I went to college, Vera and I became friends after I was legal to vote and there are days I still feel young enough for my voice to crack for no good reason.

I am not sure where the summer went – didn’t we head to Starlake, like, a day ago, to see DMB? – but, consider this my good luck for everyone involved in academia this year. I am going to miss you all.

With that I leave you with another great ‘Overachieving’ career moment…

“I’m Six Months Pregnant …”

The football press box never has a dull moment. Yet, it is a sacred place where one should not be boastful (especially if you are in Boston losing by 100 points due to 67 interceptions.). Depending upon the school, churches are louder than the football press box.

For those who have never been in one, the press box is literally a place like none other. One minute you are grabbing someone coffee – the next you are laughing as your partner in crime is on the sidelines asking some walk-on his name – the third you may be announcing “PurpleMonkeyDishwasher” on the internal PA.

The memorable phrases I have heard in these often media filled sanctuaries could create one of the greatest books ever … if only I would have written them all down at the moment they happened.

My favorite phrase needs never to be written down – only to be repeated with as much gusto as only a fiery red-head could deliver. This sentence was uttered when our punter booted a wind-aided kick that rose in the air only to fall at a much quicker rate – about 15 yards from where he had started.

After that boot, (if you could call it that) one of the distinguished females in our department, who is also one of the women I have respected (and was intimated by) the entire time I have been associated with the University, blurted (and I mean pissed off woman power ) “I can kick farther than that and I am six months pregnant!” Tina Fey could not have timed a more perfect, and accidently comedic, sentence.

I laughed – hard – it was that funny.

To this day I thank God she laughed too – and still does!

Needless to say, our kicking game was suffering one season.
As a matter of fact, it was so bad, our kicker was nicknamed after a Sesame Street character.

Confession Fifteen: The End of an Era is Upon Us All

No losers (er, I mean loyal readers, all two of you!) – my title is not meant to signify that Mark Spitz has been dethroned by Michael Phelps freak-like success in Beijing. I am pretty sure ESPN, NBC, ADHD, the BBC, SI, TMZ and every other media acronym has this subject covered. (Can you sense what I have been doing instead of writing blogs?)

The era I am referring to is that of my occupation and being a staple around my alma mater … i.e. my first ‘real-live-action-big-kid-job’ came from a magical land I worked in as an undergrad and later moved on to spend two years in as a Graduate Assistant in the same building (DPS y’all!). Not wanting to really overload on the change department, I returned for a full-time assistant job. (Three more football seasons and I am a bonafide townie!)

More or less, I had a safety blanket - only this one is covered in hoodies instead of silk like my childhood ‘bah’ (Umm my ‘bah’ rocked you like a hurricane! Sigh, to this day, I would like to believe my ‘bah’ did not have the same fate as everyone's favorite workhorse Boxer. - "Animal Farm" people! Keep up please!) In a little over a week I am going to be reliving my third year of life and the blankie is going to be a memory; only this time I get to keep the remnants (hoodies galore!).

Harriet and Peaches, my co-workers/partners in Oreo crime, recognized this soon-to-be reality and were kind enough to put together a retirement party for me this weekend.

Shenanigans.

They might want more details but my lips are sealed except to admit I blew out a flip-flop. (In my defense, it was partially broken and I thought the magic of hot glue would keep it together. Oh so wrong!)

Knowing that my industry revolves around top ten lists, I would like to present one that would celebrate my top moments of the past three ‘grown-up’ years. I wish I could actually rank these (PRINTABLE ONLY) moments, but it would be way too darn hard so I am not going to. :o)

More or less the next few installments of my lovely banter are going to be filled with my favorite brain wrinkles.

This is one of my top …

“She Moves Her Body like a Psycho”
Last season Baby Bash's song “Cyclone” was big on all women’s team pre-game warm-up playlists.

We heard it everywhere … all season … at least once a game.

Granted it is a catchy tune, but I have never loved it more than the day Coach called me over from my spot on press row to settle a little pre-tipoff dispute.

Keep in mind Coach is absolutely AWESOME (I adore him and laughed often this season) and is usually ‘hip’ to pop culture.

The stress of the game we were about to play must have gotten to him – I was literally called over to prove if the lyrics to the song were “She moves her body like a psycho” or “She moves her body like a cyclone”. The sparkle in his eye and the dance moves in his seat made this probably my favorite question the entire season (and I was asked a lot of them!).

Upon telling him the correct lyrics included a weather pattern and not a mental disorder I received one of his trademark disagreement noises (AAAAAGGGGHHHSSSHH!). I then asked the obvious, “How does one move their body like a psycho?” and was not disappointed. Flailing has never been so cute/funny/scary/memorable!

To this day I hear that song, think of Coach, and laugh. Love it! And, oddly enough, that scene happened prior to one of our worse losses but was still one of my favorite moments of the season. (We still went 26-8 last season and won the regular season league crown ... obviously losses didn't happen often.)

I am not so sure we sang before too many other games. Weird.