Cowboy stressing...

This is not a picture of me, but sometimes this is how I feel.

I was asked to write a blog about my feelings about the loss to Iowa State and the upcoming Bedlam game by my friend Beauty's husband.  He's a writer too.  A much better writer than I, and he gets paid for it.  I hate him. Kidding.  Kind of.  Anyway, you can check his blog out here and read his thoughts on this exact same matter.

Initial thoughts on the Iowa State loss?  I didn't like it.  Not one bit.  I make a point not to overly criticize the players.  They are kids, after all...except for Weeden.  He and I are almost the same age.  Not the point.  Point is, I was really disappointed and upset.  I chose to deal with the loss, the best way I know how: denial.  I turned the TV off, didn't read any blogs/message boards/write ups, didn't read Saturday's paper, and didn't watch Game Day.  I always watch Game Day.  I watched it in Arizona earlier this year, when came on at 7am, and rumor has it we were up very late the night before.  When the Cowboys lose big games, I like to pretend they never happened.  This is the same approach I've been using my whole life, and it works perfectly.

In all seriousness, that was such a hard day in general.  I don't know a Cowboy fan who didn't have a heavy heart.  I won't make excuses for the team, although I have about 3 viable ones.  Iowa State was well coached, we were flat, and I discovered refs don't call holding on Fridays.  So we lost, and all of Cowboy Nation was left deflated.

My analysis is as follows: I thought we played with very little fire and didn't make the plays to win. Pretty simple. I think the turning point was the onside kick. Having an undefeated season was something I've never experienced before as a fan.  It felt weird.  I was uncomfortable.  And then we came back down to Earth.  What is there to say?  National Championship chances are now over, and the national media broke up with Brandon Weeden, by leaving him a voicemail.  Rude.

And then Saturday happened, and my frown turned upside down.  Thanks to Clemson, Oregon and OU, we're still in this race.  A tip of the hat to you.  I'd like to buy you all a drink.

So here we sit: waiting, watching.  Will things fall in our favor?  Probably not.  But for one day of my life, I guess I'm an Auburn fan?  I already own lots of orange, so I'm all set in that respect.  I don't know any of their cheers, except for "War Eagle!"  I don't know what that means, but I guess I'll just sit in my living room and yell, "War Damn Eagle!" when things get going.  I have two friends who are Alabama fans, so this all makes me feel a little guilty.  I don't think they read this blog, so I'm probably in the clear.

We'll get to the post-season talk after Bedlam...oh Lord, Bedlam.  People keep asking me what my thoughts are.  Well, I think about throwing up when it's mentioned.  Do we have the ability to win?  Yes.  Do they have the ability to play their best game to date?  Yes.  Is there a possibility that a kid who no one has heard of will have 300 + all purpose yards for OU?  Yes. It's a toss up.  I will admit, I will be completely devastated if we lose.  Husband announced the other day, "I fully expect you to cry, one way or another."  Excellent observation, big guy.

I just don't want to even speculate.  All bets are off when it comes to playing OU.  They always play well against us.  Stoops always looks like a freaking genius.  They have our number.  AND...the very most important piece of the pie....wait for it.... Kathy has bad luck.  Dark storm clouds hang over her head on a pretty regular basis and rain crimson and cream on her orange life every fall.

Before this season began, I decided I was going to be a different kind of fan.  A fan who didn't accept defeat, a fan who demanded excellence.  So, I say: This is our game to lose.  We have the talent.  We have the coaching.  And we've put ourselves in this position...to win.    We can choose to win, or choose to get beat.  I choose to win.  That's right, the girl who sits in 104 who yells too loud and screams, "Holding!" after every OSU defensive play, wants to win.  She demands to win.  She NEEDS to win.  No pressure.

Go Pokes!  And War Damn Eagle!

Meh...doesn't matter to me

Happy Thanksgiving, people!  Thanks for stopping by and reading this blog.  I'm thankful for that.

I've discovered that the new thing, the hip thing, the in-crowd thing to do, is to post on Facebook or Twitter what you are thankful for this Thanksgiving.  Sure I have plenty to be thankful about, but I don't like to be like everyone else.  I like to stand out.  I'm a maverick.  A Thanksgiving maverick.  A rogue turkey, if you will. 

If you have ever read this blog before, you know that I'm super opinionated.  I spend a lot of time writing/talking about things I love (Oklahoma State, shoes, college basketball, burritos, etc) and things I hate (passive aggressive people, birds, possums, coconut, liars, etc).  So in honor of all the pilgrims, Native Americans, and the Mayflower, I'd like to write about all the things I'm indifferent towards.  Enjoy.   Or don't.  Doesn't make much difference to me, I'm indifferent.

Raisins.  *Shrug* Don't hate 'em.  Don't love 'em.  I think oatmeal raisin cookies are an attempt to trick people.  Everyone knows that the preferred cookie is chocolate chip.  I like raisins when they are fresh and plump, you know, when they are still grapes.  And I like wine, which is made from grapes, so I guess that's a correlation.  But in general, I could take them or leave them.

The color yellow.  Whatever.  Doesn't affect Kathy's mood one way or another.  I own two yellow shirts, but I never seem to be tan enough to wear them.  I'm not sure what skin tone can pull off yellow, but it's not, "you kind of look ill due to the paleness of your skin" that I'm rocking.  I think yellow cars are obnoxious, but yellow accessories are cute.  Maybe it's because I have reached maximum capacity in the citrus colors category due to my allegiance to orange.  I don't see that changing anytime soon.  Mellow yellow indeed.

Hockey.  Hockey games are fun to attend.  However, I didn't know this until my 22nd year on Earth.  Oklahoma isn't really puck country.  I enjoy going to hockey games and being around hockey fans, but I would never seek out to watch a hockey game on television.  I don't really have a team either.  I adopted the Red Wings when I lived in Michigan because they were good and everyone else loved them.  Not a hard decision to make; I wanted to fit in.  Then I moved to Arizona, and they have a hockey team, or so they say.  But it's the desert where the average temperature is 173 degrees.  It's silly to have a hockey team on the surface of the sun, I can't get behind that.  I am not indifferent to Sidney Crosby, though.  Two thumbs up, buddy. 

And Pit Bull.  The singer/rapper/Daddy Warbucks look-a-like, not the dog breed.  I have no strong feelings toward him one way or another.  I couldn't tell you the name of one song he sings, but I know he seems to be on my television trying to get me to drink Dr. Pepper a lot.  He speaks a lot of Spanish, which is cool, but I only understand every fifth word.  Maybe if I ever go to a club again, I'll dance to a Pit Bull song.  Or maybe I won't.  I really can't say.  He elicits zero reaction from me.  He's like the Tavaris Jackson of hip hop.  His existence affects me none.

I could keep going, but I've bored myself.  Please add to the list: this blog entry.  Not great.  Not terrible.

Loyal and True

My first job out of college was working in an athletic department in Michigan.  Western Michigan to be exact.  I packed up and headed way up north to Kalamazoo, a city that I didn't know existed until I was called for an interview.  I have a lot of good memories from my time "up north" as I like to call it, but a memory that will always stick with me was the day I was called into a meeting and told my allegiance to Oklahoma State was bothersome to the rest of the staff.  I was stunned.  And a lot annoyed.  I honestly didn't understand.  Why wouldn't I be blindly devoted?  Didn't everyone adore their alma mater as much as I did?

I can't answer for any other school, but I feel like I can speak on behalf of my fellow Pokes.  Stillwater and Oklahoma State are like no other place on Earth.  They are intertwined, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I am a Cowboy fan.  Football, basketball, wrestling, golf, baseball, soccer, you name it.  If we field a competitive team, I am cheering for them.  But above all else, I am an Oklahoma State fan: the school, the experience, the people.

There has never been a time I haven't been proud to be a Cowboy.  Ask anyone who knows me or who has had a conversation with me.  I will gladly talk your ear off about why OSU is so wonderful.  And any time I meet another Poke fan, I instantly like them.  Why wouldn't I?  They are cheering for the good guys, ergo they are instantly my friend.  No questions asked.

When tragedy strikes, as it did last night to the Oklahoma State women's basketball team, there really aren't words.  I am heartsick.  I'm pissed.  And I'm proud.  I'm proud of the devotion the entire Oklahoma State family has to one another.  I pray that everyone remembers the families.  And the team.  My God, the team.  How will they ever make sense of this?  It is quite possible, that people might think I'm crazy, because I have an overwhelming urge to hug anyone who is affiliated with OSU.  So watch out.

I'm not directing this blog to anyone in particular, just a little cathartic writing.  But I offer up this to the man upstairs: Thanks for letting us have Coach Budke, Miranda Serna, and the Branstetters.  Take good care of them.  You'll probably be surprised how much orange they wear, it's just what we Pokes do.

Tid bits

So many things to cover and only one little ol' blog to do it in, so let's not waste anymore time.

Penn State: Okay, I have a lot of opinions, as does everyone on this subject, so I'll save my sermon for another day.  I will, however, say this.  When you see a crime occuring, you should report it to the authorities.  That is what they are there for.  Being the upstanding citizen that I am, I have called the cops multiple times...all of these times happened to be when I lived in Arizona.  That's what I like to call "big city living."  One time, my dog tried to eat street drugs.  I managed to wrangle them out of his mouth, and then carried them home.  My thinking was, if they dog gets sick from eating crank, I want to have a sample for the vet.  Then I got very scared that 1.) I now had illegal drugs in my home which is against the law and 2.) If the junkie who lost them in the park saw me pick them up, he could have followed me home.  Oh boy, what's a Kathy to do?  I called the vet, then the non-emergency police number.  The police told me to just get rid of them.  So I waited until it was dark and made Husband throw them in the dumpster.  Another time, I witnessed a young man break down the door of the condo next to our's.  Kathy called the cops, cops showed up, and determined the young man was hammered and couldn't find his keys, so he broke down his door.  They determined this after they aroused him from his passed out state in the threshold of his home.  Sometimes, I really miss Arizona.  People out there really know how to live.  The point of all of this is that it is your duty as an adult to report crime.  Shame on those of you who don't.  You can't just expect someone else to do the right thing.  You have to.  Silence is a crime, too.

Matt Leinart.  The following conversation happened tonight, and I thought it was very annoying.
Husband: So Schaub is out for the season
Kathy: I know, I saw that.  But I believe in the power of a pretty quarterback.
Husband: Lots of haters on Leinart.
Kathy: I think he's a good QB.  He has the talent..... Do they have to flip the line around?
Husband: *snicker*
Kathy: Why are you scoffing?  That's not a stupid question.
Husband: No.  I guess it's not.  But no, they wouldn't flip the line around.  I'm more surprised you knew he was left handed.
Kathy: Everyone knows he's left handed.  Who doesn't know he's left handed?
Husband: I'd guess less than 2% of women know that.
Kathy: But we're talking about me.
Husband: Do you want credit or not for me being impressed?
Kathy: I want credit when I know something amazing, not when I know something obvious.  I also want to know how the guy who isn't used to protecting the blindside is going to adjust.
Husband: I can't win.
Kathy: No, you can't.

On a side note, I really do believe in beautiful quarterbacks.  They are good for America.

And finally, there seems to be a mystery brewing at our house.  Last week I found a receipt from Tatermash in Tulsa on our bedroom floor.  What is Tatermash?  Who went there?  Why is their receipt on my floor?  Husband I have not been to Tulsa since September, and as far as we remember, we did not go to Tatermash.  Then, yesterday, I was sorting through a stack of bills and stuff that needed to be thrown away and came across a movie ticket stub to the movie Prom Night.  I haven't seen Prom Night, and neither has Husband.  What is going on?  Do we have a ghost?  A ghost who likes potatoes and bad movies?  Is Mr. Bojangles sneaking out at night on late night food runs?  Is our little boy growing up and going on dog dates behind our back?  I'm so confused.

BCS Breakdown

Please note the message being sent with this picture.  OSU punching Mizzou.  See ya later, suckers.  Do not let the door hit you on the way out.

First things first, NO ONE wants a rematch of LSU vs. Alabama.  No one.  Only the media, not the public.  If I want to watch a field goal competition, I'll catch the local Punt, Pass and Kick contest.  America likes scoring.  Offense.  My Cowboys score in bunches, and because they like to make the viewers happy, they let the other teams score a lot too.  Win, win.

I'd also like to admit that Kathy got a little big for her britches.  And no, I'm not talking about stuffing her face with too much Taco Bueno.  I'm talking about her cocky tweeting in regards to the Oklahoma State Cowboys.  My bad, people, my bad.  It won't happen again.  You know that phrase, "Act like you've been here before"?  Well, I've never been here, so I'm at a loss.

As far as the Oklahoma State game, I knew we were in for a weird night when the following things occurred:

1. Two old ladies tried to kick us out of our seats.  They did not believe us when we told them that we were in row 7, not row 6.  One woman had clearly mastered the stink eye in her 185 years on Earth, because she gave it to the entire family.  They begrudgingly left the aisle and then stood at the end and stared.  Finally, Brother turned to her and said, "This is row 7.  We've sat here for 15 years, we know where our seats are."  See, I come by this attitude naturally, it's in my DNA.  Listen up, Maxine.  Instead of storming into your very first game and demanding people move, you might politely ask, "Can you tell me if I'm in the right location?"  We would have kindly told you, "No, but let me help you."  Can't catch these flies with vinegar.  We like honey.
2. The guy behind me told me my purple phone cover was what was causing OSU to play poorly.  I did the math, I believe this statement to be highly unlikely.  I dress my dog in an OSU jersey, I have a four foot tall Pistol Pete in my yard, I have an OSU license plate,  I've worn the same outfit since the A&M game, and I wear orange every Friday.  I'm doing my part.  
3. There was a teenager in front of us who a.) did not cheer at all b.) didn't like other people cheering and c.) was confused about why she was even there.  I, too, was confused why she was there.  I was also confused why she turned around and looked at me every time I yelled.  I'm Kathy and I yell at sporting events.  That's what I do.  In fact, every other person in the 59,000 crowd was yelling...except for the preteen.  We should have been staring at her.

All of these factors made for an interesting night.  But we won.  I aged 15 years.  And it's on to the next one.

Finally can we address Stanford?  And the love affair the media has with Andrew Luck.  Is it because he looks like Jesus?  Is that the selling point?  Because his team has only beaten two teams with winning records.  A win over Oregon State does not a National Champion make.  And my quarterback has 788 more passing yards than you do.  And he doesn't have a freaky neck  beard.  

We get it.  Super smarties go to your school, and you have a Christmas tree as your mascot.  Your tree  happens to look like an arts and craft project gone wrong, but maybe that's a west coast thing.  If you look closely, you'll see that the tree wears cargo pants.  I can't take anything serious in cargo pants.  Unfortunately, high IQ scores do not translate to higher BCS rankings.  I don't hate on the Pac 12, I have nothing but love for the Sun Devils.  But the bad teams in the Pac are BAD.  It's not your fault, but it's not our fault either.  Blame Mike Stoops.  Until then, you and Kellen Moore can talk about how unfair life is, leave the winning to the rest of us.  And on that note, Go Ducks.

So there you have it, my completely unbiased opinion.  Back to Reece in the studio.

Kathy's Korner, Football Edition

You know what I like about this picture?  The fact that only one kid has his name on his jersey.  He is either a. the coach's son b. the best player on the team.  "Look out for Fredrickson, he'll light you up." or c. He's a total jerk.  Not a team player.

Okay, so I have a few readers who have professed to not be sports fans.  My sports-themed blogs are somewhat lost on them.  For that I apologize.  I try to not only focus on sports, as there are other things I'm interested in, like shoes and funny animals, and crazy people.  But for today, I want to talk about the gridiron. 

In no particular order, these are Kathy's thoughts on football at this very point in time.

1. Sure wish there was more coverage on LSU vs. Bama.  I can't find anything out there.  Doesn't anyone else recognize the implications of this game?  Sheesh.
2. This season, thus far has been surreal for me.  I don't even like to write/talk about it in the fear that I'm going to ruin it.  Seriously,  I feel like I snuck into the party and am waiting to get kicked out.  So I'm just drinking my appletini quietly, hoping no one will notice me.  That being said, here are my observations on OSU thus far:

• Kirk Herbstreit...c'mon man.  Enough already.  Get on the bus, your seat is getting cold.  I would like to point out that Herbie picked UofA and Mike Stoops to be the "team to watch" and "sleeper team" for the last six seasons.  And they NEVER were.  Mike Gundy = good coach, knows what he's doing, making history.  Mike Stoops = crazy person, unemployed, and looks like Barney Rubble.  We're the real deal, Herbie. This is THE OSU. 
• There is currently a tattoo pact spreading about that is contingent on Oklahoma State winning the national championship.  I guess if we do win, we're supposed to get tattoos.  Am I a bad fan if I opt out?  How about a temporary tattoo?  My mom told me that she would disinherit me if I got another tattoo...and I believe her.  Also, God bless the South, but there are a lot of Bear Bryant tattoos floating around out there, and I like to make fun of those.
• There are people who sit around us at home games that really don't know much about football.  It makes me angry.  Yelling, "That's so predictable, Gundy!" on the second play of the game, is ridiculous.  And groaning because we go three and out when we are up by 49 is a bit much.  Learn the game, people.
• As the season progresses, I get more and more nervous for games.  It usually starts on Wednesday and lasts until the beginning of the 4th quarter on Saturday, depending on how we play.  I need to get a grip.  I also manically retweet postive OSU tweets.  I'm obsessed.  Must stop.
3. The football universe is not allowing me to have too much success.  Due to my Cowboys' historic season, my fantasy football teams are taking the hit.  Good lord.  It's not pretty.  Tony Romo won't throw to Dez Bryant, Kevin Kolb isn't good, Tim Tebow only throws Hail Mary's and never 10 yard out routes...all of things are affecting my four teams.  Current standings: 9th, 4th, 9th, and 5th.  OSU better make it to a BCS bowl, because my fantasy pride is bruised. Sad Kathy.
4. Watching football with dogs isn't great.  When I get nervous during a televised game, I stand.  Teams play better when Kathy is on her feet pacing back and forth.  This causes Mr. Bojangles to think I am either going somewhere or ready to play.  Bark, bark, bark.  When Kathy and/or Husband yells during football games, dogs like to get in on the action.  We learned this a couple of weekends ago when we were dog sitting and ASU was playing...poorly.  Husband yells, Kathy yells, dogs go crazy.  Must formulate new plan.

So that's it.  Those are my thoughts.  I won't say that my entire life's happiness depends on a Bedlam win....but I may never smile again if we don't win. 

Can I have the definition please?

I feel like I should confess something.  I feed my dog fortune cookies.  I know that I shouldn't.  But he really likes them, and I really like the crunching sound he makes as he gobbles them up.  I also like to read him his fortune.  We had Chinese food tonight, it was delicious.  Mr. B's fortune said he would be called upon to help a friend in need.  Good luck with that...that dog only looks out for number one.

Fortune cookies, however, is not the point of this blog.  So let's all gather ourselves and refocus.

I've done a lot of DVR catching up the last couple of days.  And you know what that means, an Intervention  marathon.  I love Intervention.  And I love watching eight in a row.  It really gets my mind right.  I'm starting to think that I should invest some time in watching a marathon of Hoarders.  The direct result would more than likely be an incredibly clean home by Kathy.

So there is an underlying theme to all Intervention episodes.  And no, it's not addiction.  It's that "defining moment," that each person showcased dwells on.  The thing that happened to them that made them into the crazy drunk meth faces they are today.  In a not so surprising twist, most of their defining moments are bad.  Very, very bad.  It got me thinking though, does the bad stuff have to be your defining moment?  Can't something wonderful and amazing be your defining moment ?  I think the answer is yes.

So what is Kathy's defining moment?  What makes her so unique?  What explains her moxie?  Side note: I was told once on a train from Paris that I had a lot of moxie.  It was a guy from Tampa who asked me if we had cell phones in Oklahoma.  We had a quick discussion about what a ridiculous question that was and the conclusion was drawn that Kathy had a lot of moxie.

I believe these three things could be my defining moments:

1. Oklahoma State wins the National Championship in football/basketball.  It has not happened in my lifetime.  But it will, oh it will.  Could be this year, might be when I'm in my 60s, but by God, it will happen.  I cannot express in words how much this will mean to me.  And at this moment, I will not.  I have no intentions of jinxing anything.  It could also happen when I'm old as the hills, and they win, and then the very next day I die.  I read a Sports Illustrated article after the Red Sox won the 2004 World Series about different Sox fans stories.  One lady was like 120, or something like that.  She was a diehard Sox fan, and was on her death bed, but vowed to everyone that she would not die until they won.  And they did, and then she died the next day.  Awesome. She went out with a victory.  Kathy wants the same....and to be buried in orange.
2. Seeing drunk monkeys in Africa.  This is the best story I have in my material.  I can tell it to anyone and it's always a hit.  Okay, one time it wasn't a hit, but that person has no sense of humor.   I'm not a miracle worker, people.   So in turn, this encounter lead to me starting to blog and tell my stories on the interwebs.  All thank you cards can be sent to Zambia.
3. The day my dad told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  I was young.  And I believed him.  And I still do...  I like to credit that childhood pep talk to my constant thinking, "If she/he can do it, so can I."  Thanks, Pops.  In my old age I'm losing hope that I can still be an ESPN anchor or an astronaut.  There is, however, still time for me to claim my self as a writer and/or photographer.  There's still hope.

So that's that.  Who wants bad stuff to define them?  Only Debbie Downer.  Not Kathy, she's always on the lookout for that silver lining....actually, I'm on the lookout for an orange lining.  Everything is prettier in orange.  Go Pokes!