P for Possibilities

Today's blog is brought to you by the letter P.  This is a list of things you need to know since I wrote last week, and I managed to make them all start with the letter P.  It's a gift.

Pigs on Twitter.  When you Google image search "P," this little guy comes up.  Apparently his name is Chris P Bacon Pig.  And he uses a wheelchair.  And he's so cute I actually "eeked" when I saw this picture.  I'm not about stealing stuff from the internets, so I wanted to identify Chris.  You can follow his adventures on twitter @ChrisPBaconPig

Progress.  Someone talked about OU going to the Sugar Bowl today and I didn't have the reaction of violence or nausea.  I'm really growing up in front of my eyes.  I'm making myself very proud...which also starts with "p."

Paying in cash.  I just returned from visiting the Valley of the Sun.  It was glorious.  Palm trees and 74 degrees.  My body actually physically rejected the Oklahoma weather when I returned.  Kathy thrives in sunshine, she catches colds in winter.  I miss you already, Arizona.  Anywho, while visiting the desert, I visited Heaven on Earth, or Nordstrom as others call it.  While perusing the shoe department, I watched a woman approximately 80+ years old try on a pair of shiny black loafers.  She asked how much they cost, and upon being told they were $295, she pulled out her wallet and paid the salesgirl in cash.  I've never seen someone buy shoes with cash.  Let alone a $300 pair of shoes.  She handed her money to the girl without ever moving from her seat.  It was like being at a restaurant...but with shoes.  It was glorious.  Scottsdale is a magical place.

Packers!  While waiting on our flight home yesterday, the gate next to us was heading to Milwaukee.  Brrrr.  The Packers vs. Bears game was on and I only became aware of it when the entire gate area erupted in cheers when the Packers scored with 34 seconds to go.  It was awesome.  Not because I'm a Packers fan, but because I love being in the midst of happy fans.  It's just the best thing ever.  I was instantly happy for them because they were so happy.  Strangers high fiving each other, two different people got up and ran around in excitement.  Then it was the defense's time to step up.  Everyone was on the edge of their seats, including me, because now I was fully vested in this game.  One lady yelled out, "Get him!"  It was silent and she instantly felt the need to explain herself, "I'm sorry.  I just love the Packers so much."  Of course she was from Wisconsin, so she had that ridiculous accent which made the whole statement even more endearing.  I thought about going and hugging her and telling her she didn't need to explain to me.  I understood.  And then it happened.  The Pack intercepted Jay Culter (big cry baby). Everyone cheered.  I threw my hands in the air, signalling "Victory!"  Husband looked at me like I was crazy. I smiled and concluded, "Sports are great.  There's just nothing better."

Pandora.  I listen to a certain sports radio station while at work.  I stream it through the computer and typically listen every day unless 1) OSU has just lost a disappointing game  2) OU has just won in an upset and/or big game or 3) It's a slow news days.  I'm going to go ahead and add to that list...4)  When the talent is on vacation.  The JV team is filling in while everyone is on holiday vacation, and well, it's not good. Not good at all. Remember with Zac Morris and the gang discovered the old radio station in the basement at Bayside?  And they revamped the old station?  Everyone had their topic to cover, and Slater seemed a natural fit for sports. But he was really, really bad at it.  Like really bad.  So they had to fire him, and no one knew how much it would damage their friendships with A.C.  That's very similar to what I was listening to earlier today, before I had to switch to Pandora.  Someone needs to tell Preppy he has to have that uncomfortable conversation.

Pokes.  You'll get my prediction and pre-game thoughts on Friday.

Peace out, homies.  (<-- yes, I'm aware that no one says this anymore.  Stop judging me.)

Christmas Letters

It's almost Christmas, and I've got some end-of-the-year thoughts I need to get out.  I hear snail mail is passe, so let me use this highly-influential blog to get my messages out, for I am a communicator of the future.

Dear Daughter,

You are by far, the most fun you've ever been.  SO much personality.   You are constantly on the move and I'm hoping that kick starts some calorie burning on my end, seeing as I can't stop eating cookies this holiday season. And while I find your mockingbird phase of repeating everything you hear to be fun, entertaining and a clear sign of your high intellect, you don't actually have to repeat EVERYTHING.  For example, when you are sitting with Mommy watching OSU basketball, and she yells "Damn!" after they lost the shooter on a ball screen, you don't have to yell, "Damn!" too.  It makes Mommy look bad.

XOXO,

Mommy


Dear Travis Ford,

Keep up the good work.  As you know, since I know you are a faithful reader of My Name is Not Kathy, I'm a fan.  I'm aware you have flaws (who doesn't?), but I believe in what you are doing.  The game on Saturday was a big win in my eyes. It's important to be able to beat a top 20 team on a neutral court.  Even more importantly, it's key to be able to hold off a team who makes a late surge. Because come March, everyone is playing for their life.  Let's focus a little more on free throwing shooting over the holidays.  I'm looking forward to our Big XII title and Final Four run.  I can't wait for the both of us to stand up and address the crowd and yell, "I told you so!"  Then we should drop the mic and do the Kid 'n Play.  Or did you have something else in mind?  I'll have to watch The Sixth Man over the break to see if you have a go-to move.

Hugs,

Kathy

Dear Mike Gundy,

Well, it's been a rough year for us, Mike.  Lots of ups and downs.  I feel like our relationship should be stronger through all the trials, but I'm not sure I'm there yet.  I think we can all agree that no one respects Missouri.  I mean come on.  Sure, they had a great season...but the SEC East hardly put up much of a fight.  Remember how great it felt to stomp on Missouri's throats in 2008?  Remember how fun it was watching Chase Daniel's big sad face get more and more forlorn?  I do.  It was awesome.  Let's do that again.   Of course, I want you to take them seriously...focus, focus, focus.  But maybe go ahead and pull out the victory visor in the second quarter.

Sending you love, hair gel, and tucked in sweatshirts, 

Kath


Dear Facebook,

Where's your sense of humor?  Why so serious?  Can we all lighten up a little?  I saw a picture of an old friend today that showcased how lovely she really is.  Lots of praise was heaped upon her, and I felt the need to tell her that I found her cute and skinny self annoying.  Shove a cookie in your mouth like the rest of us.  Actually, I didn't write that last part, because for as funny as I find myself, unfortunately there are more people who don''t.  Your loss people, your loss. In 2014, let's try a little less serious duck complaining and telling people their kids are "stinking cute," and more sarcasm and humor.  The world needs more funny people. Do your part.

Happy faces,

KHR


Okay, readers. Now it's up to you to get my messages to the respective parties.  Act as carrier pigeons. Go Forth!

And most importantly, Merry Christmas to you all.  And if you celebrated Hanukkah, I hope it was wonderful.  But Hanukkah is over, you can't keep celebrating, that's against the rules.

Mack the Knife

So Mack Brown got the knife.  The ax.  The ol' 86.  His walking papers.  The big ol' sayonara sweetheart.  Kind of a sad day, if you ask me.  I liked Mack.  He reminded me of that good ol' boy that you could drink beer with and before you parted ways, he'd slap you on the back and tell you how much he liked you.  Don't we all need more people like that in our lives?  I think we do.  (I don't know why I used 'ol three times in that paragraph.  I must be from good 'ol Oklahoma.  Yee haw).

Mack's firing was quite the topic of conversation in our house when the news broke.  First we discussed one possible candidate.

Kathy: Someone on Twitter just said Todd Graham (ASU head coach) would be a good choice.
Husband: He would be a good choice.  It would be great if they offered him the job and he turned it down.
Kathy: Sometimes you are so homerific, I wonder what it's like inside your head.
Husband: What?  I just said it would be great.  I didn't say I thought it would happen.
Kathy: Why in the world would he turn down Texas?  Are you crazy?
Husband: I just think it would be great for ASU, that's all I'm saying.
Kathy: Well, I think it would be great if Jesus stopped by our house tonight and blessed our child in person, but I don't think either of those things will happen.
Husband: You are hard to have conversations with.

Then we talked about another candidate.

Kathy: Maybe they will hire Gundy.  I would be fine with that.
Husband: I'm somewhat shocked at how much you dislike him.  I think he's done a really great job.
Kathy: He has.  But I haven't forgiven him for the stunt he pulled last year, flirting with other jobs.  Who tries to flaunt themselves as a top-level coach when you only win seven regular season games?
Husband: He was never going anywhere.  It was just a power play.
Kathy: And that's okay?  You'd be okay with your boy Todd Graham seeing who else wanted him?  What about if I did a little survey to see how many men were interested in dating me?  Just to see what the market was like?  Just to make sure that I was still a desirable candidate?  Would you be okay with that?  As long as I stayed?
Husband: Well...that's not  the same thing.
Kathy:   It's exactly the same. I couldn't be more spot on with my argument. He emotionally cheated on me, and I'm not over it.

Here are a list of candidates I would like to see hired for the job:

1. Les Miles.  He's so entertaining.  He eats grass.  He says crazy things.  We need more Les.
2. Harbaugh.  Either one.  Why?  Because they are so handsome.
3. Gruden. He's like half a notch less crazy than Miles, and I like that.
4. Bob Stoops.  Can you even imagine the amount of freak-out this would cause?  It would be so enjoyable to watch.  I asked Santa for this...fingers crossed.
5. Kevin Sumlin.  Because I'm all about controversy.
6. Mike Leach.  Bring back the pirate!  Can you imagine how mad that would make Craig James?  And I think we can all agree that an angry Craig James is good for America.

I'm always sad to see likable coaches go.  Hate to see the unlikable ones go as well, villains are good for sports.  I hope they are able to hire a good coach who is easy to hate, but not too good.  Let's not go win any national championships or anything....ain't nobody got time for that.

New Developments: Dancing Hobos and Jezebels

With a headline like that, how can you not be intrigued?  That's what we in the business call a teaser.  And by "business" I mean, people who write blogs and make things up.

A little housekeeping before I get started... My last post seemed to really resonate with people, Cowboys and Sooners alike.  Look at me, joining people together, just call me Kathy the Uniter.  Seeing as I opened Pandora's Box of a touchy subject, it would be unrealistic of me to think everyone agreed with my points.  I welcome comments, even the ones who thought I was wrong.  I did, however, receive a comment today that was a tad bit offensive.  And by tad bit, I mean, holy moly, it was bad.  Comma splices, misuse of capitalization, and run-on sentences.  Is grammar dead?  It also contained five cuss words, including the f-word and reference to inappropriate relations with an animal....and that's where Kathy draws the line.  Thanks for playing, but you've been assessed a flagrant 2.  Leave the court immediately.  I decided to delete the incredible work of prose.  Comment all you want, keep the f-word to yourself.

Moving on...

Since I'm on a temporary sports hiatus (my last remaining fantasy football team was taken behind the shed and shot Monday night), I thought I'd throw a little, "what's the haps with Kath" blog.  No need to fret, we'll get back to sportsing soon enough.

So these are the latest developments in my life as we speak:

I got a new phone last night.  The days of my old phone were numbered.  It was misbehaving, running out of energy left and right, and refusing to work with me.  It was time.  Like my fantasy football teams, it needed to be put out of its misery.  The end was nigh.  Fancy new phone has lots of bells and whistles, including syncing up with my car.  I can now have my car read me texts as they come in.  Texts take on a whole new feeling when the GPS lady is reading them out loud.  It's like I'm living in the future!  If I could only get my GPS/text orator in Ludacris's voice, I'm pretty sure my life would be complete.

While at the phone store last night, Ciara's 1, 2 Step, came on the sound system.  And guess who started to break it down?  My 15 month old little girl.  My heart swelled with pride.  My baby dances to hip hop!  Moms often talk of moments of pride while watching their children.  I had one of those moments watching her sway back and forth  to the line, "Goodies make the boys jump on it," It was hilarious.

I'm also working very hard to bring back the use of the words "jezebel" and "hobo."  Jezebel speaks for itself, it's paints a picture.  A word with great imagery, if you will.  I called someone a jezebel today, and I felt great about it afterward.  No worries, she's a friend and I said it to her face, so she knows how I really feel.  Now hobo on the other hand, that's a little dicier.  I looked up the official meaning on Urban Dictionary (always a reliable source), and come to find out, it's not an offensive term. Hobos work, but just not for very long and not in the same place.  Bums are stationary, hobos are mobile.  So there you go.  Now that I know the true meaning, I'm pretty sure I'm friends with a couple hobos.

Hobos and Jezebels would be a good name for a bar.  In fact, to any strangers out there who wish to call me names via blog comments, I invite you to say it to my face.  Meet me down at H&Js, I'll be the one with the baby dancing in the corner to DMX.

No Bedlam of Roses

Boooooo!  Booooooo!  BOOOOOO!

As you read that, I hope, in your head, you got louder with each one.  That was the effect I was going for.

I woke up today a little less mad than I was yesterday.  At this rate, I should be over this Bedlam loss by March.  So there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I thought all day yesterday about what I wanted to write in this blog.  What angle did I want to take?  How could I write about the game, without totally losing my cool?  Was it even possible?  Doubtful.  So I'll just touch on a couple of topics, and we'll call it a day.

First, I'm happy to report, if I ever spend four hours outside in 17 degree weather with single-digit windchills again, I have compiled the perfect ensemble to keep myself warm.  Hooray!  I can officially apply to be an Eskimo.  On Saturday, I wore three pairs of leggings and jeans, two pair of wool socks (valued at $65), two pair of gloves (valued at $40), two winter jackets over my two shirts (valued at < $200), and a big puffer coat.  I announced in the car on our way, "I hope no one tries to steal me today, I'm very valuable."  Alas, the only thing that was stolen was my heart and soul.  I also used 8 hand warmers/toe warmers.  God bless the person who invented those.

Second, it seems like OU fans might have just learned this weekend that OSU fans don't like them.  I feel kind of sorry for them that this is brand new information, I've know this for more than 30 years.  You know how you feel about Texas?  We feel that way about you.  And when you beat us, it gets worse.  At least now you know.  As GI Joe says, knowing is half the battle.

And finally, as if the loss wasn't hard enough to stomach on its own, social media has been a buzz with the claims that OSU fans are terrible fans. Pretty sure I've seen the phrase "low class" used 859 times.  You have sufficiently made your point.  Here are my thoughts, in no particular order:

• I think the days of OSU fans claiming that they are "the best" fans, is probably over.  I, personally, believe this correlates directly with success.  Back in the good ol' days, we weren't very good.  So no one expected to win, and when we did it was a nice little surprise.  You can't really talk trash, when your team goes 0-10-1.  But now we are better, and fans expect to win.  And with that comes bad behavior.  Throwing stuff at players...not our finest moment.   Gone are the days of the Lovable Losers. Embrace who you are, Pokes...loyal to a fault and there are some bad apples in the bunch.
• Speaking of embracing who you are...come on OU.  Enough with the, "Golly!  I can't believe they were so mean to us!"   "What the heck!  That sure hurt my feelings."  The OU team was jazzed up from the beginning.  They were hyped and talking noise from the start.  I watched multiple players rip their helmets off and celebrate when a big play was made.  Jaz Reynolds went so far as to come over to our sidelines to express how excited he was (punk).  And at the end of the day, that trash talk was backed up by their victory.  But when the game was over, the players ran directly to the OSU student section to celebrate.  Jumping.  Hootin' and hollerin'. And middle fingers raised in the air to show who they thought was #1.  From what I can tell, OU fans believe that the student section should have given them a standing ovation for their effort on the field.  Instead, upon being flipped off, the students threw stuff.  Here's some age-old advice...if you don't want stuff thrown at you, don't taunt the crowd.  And in all my 30+ years of attending sports, I've never seen "the bird" go over well with opposing fans.  No one thinks, "Look at all that pride that young man has, he can't help but express himself through hand signals." You can't play both victim and villain.  You can't taunt all game, and then be shocked the fans lose it.  Isn't that the point of your taunting?  To get people riled up? I try to live my life by the following mantra, "If you don't want to be punched in the face, don't perform punchable acts."
• Our cheerleader tried to trip a player....  What could I possibly say about this?  He obviously took the "be aggressive" cheer literally.

I've got several Sooner fans as friends.  And I know they are totally stoked with the victory.  I'd say I'm happy for them, but that would be a lie.  But I beg of you, enough with the complaining about the low class fans.  We are big meanies.  And you are the winners. Just let me wallow in my misery and go about your day.

Also of note, the Sundevils didn't make it to the Rose Bowl.  They got stomped by Stanford.  And then yesterday Drew Brees was the cause of me losing in fantasy football for the second week in a row.  Cool story, Drew.  You're dead to me.

On a scale of 1-10, I'd give this weekend a -8 1/2.  If we were talking temperature, I'd be golden.  But we aren't, so no amount of hand warmers can make this right. 

Booooooo!

That was weird

So this weekend was pretty weird.  I feel like I really grew as a person, because of all the things I learned.  Grow, grow, grow.  Expand your mind.  That's what I'm doing, just getting smarter and smarter, and more worldly by the minute.  You should all be afraid.  Soon, I will know everything.

Let's start with the, "what did you learn from a bad situation" scenarios, and then we'll finish with some a little peppier, okay?

I learned on Saturday night that grumpy men sitting in Row RR at John Mayer concerts do not like to have beer spilled on them.  I probably knew this all along, but it was definitely confirmed on Saturday night.  Let me set the scene for you...we had decent seats, but they were "behind-the-goal" if you will, so they were temporary and a little wobbly.  Aluminum is like that.  Great for soda pop, not so great for stability.  As I was walking to my seat, I stepped on the lady's bag next to me.  Wobble, wobble goes Kathy...and hence my beer spilled on Grumpy McScrooge in row RR.  I immediately apologized, "I'm so incredibly sorry," I professed.  This was met with cold dead eyes.  For a second, I thought, "My god, he doesn't even know that I spilled on him.  Why else would he provide no reaction at all?  Should I tell him why I'm apologizing?  What am I supposed to do now?" I kept walking, really embarrassed.  This is why I can't have nice things.   It became quite clear that this gentleman did not like getting spilled on, not one bit.  I learned this through the five over-the-shoulder stink faces I received.  Two would have been sufficient.  By #4, I was not really sorry any more.  The thing about accidents is that they are just that, on accident.  If they weren't, they'd be called, "on purposes."  And of my $7 beer, I spilled approximately $0.25 worth.  So, I'm sorry for that.  Next time, I'll drink at least $1 worth before entering my row.

Last night, someone tried to break in to our house.  The alarm blared at 3:45 am.  I have a baseball bat under my side of the bed for just the occasion.  My sorority paddle is on the other side of the bed, because I believe in bludgeoning intruders, I suppose.  Pi Phi till I die!  I learned last night, that the one flaw in my plan, is that when an alarm goes off in the middle of the night, it causes me great confusion, and I think it's the alarm on my phone.  So instead of taking a weapon with me to face the intruder, I took my phone.  Guess I could have thrown it at him, or tweeted about how scared I was.  Looks like Husband and I are going to need to run, "Intruder Drills" so I can train myself to grab blunt objects, not electronics in the face of danger.  In case you are wondering, the alarm scared the hamburglar off...or he got a look of my messy house and thought, "Somebody's already cased this joint."

And finally, I learned that decorating for Christmas provides quite the challenge when you have a 14-month-old tornado residing with you.  We officially entered the, "I must touch everything in the room" phase on Thursday.  There's no turning back.  All valuables and breakables must be hidden for the next two years.  I hope it's only two, when do kids stop breaking stuff?  After putting up the Christmas tree yesterday, she grabbed the branches and shook it on three different occasions.  So...no ornaments in 2013.  It's best for everyone involved.  Also, Christmas doesn't exist in our home below three feet.  All decorations reserved for shelves.  I remember reading a "Puppies for Dummies" book when we first got Mr. Bojangles.  It said it was important to put the puppy in situations where it could succeed.  I'm applying the same theory to raising a human.  Put her in situations where she can succeed, not destroy.  Preferably in a really adorable outfit.

BREAKING NEWS: just received a text from Husband saying that our little wild child had a problem using "nice hands" at daycare today.  I think that's their way of saying she was hitting the other children.  Note to self, take baby with you the next time you have an intruder, her instincts are better than yours.

Ride, Ride, Ride

I don't know about you guys, but I'm having a major sports hangover.  Such big games last week, I literally don't know what to do with myself.  I will probably randomly shout out, "Rebound!" or "Tackle him!" just to get my fix of sports yelling, one of my favorite past times.  Last week, I seriously contemplated kicking a cup of ice out of Husband's hands, just to see the reaction.  I don't know if that has anything to do with sports, but I thought it would be so funny.  When I told him about my non-executed plan, he just stared at me.  "It would have been hilarious," I said.  His response, "You're a jerk."

So my Cowboys, all of them, are great at everything right now.  I'm a happy little fan.  I love being a winner, it's what I was born to be.  Thank you, Oklahoma State for making me feel like the winner I always knew I was.

As I sit atop my winning mount, the following things intrigue me...

Chelf, as in Choo Choo. Why in the world is it so hard for people to pronounce this kid's last name?  Chelf.  Not Shelf.  Since when have you pronounced "ch" to sound like "sh"?  Do you order a shicken sandwich?  Do you then shew your shicken?  This is not a tricky foreign name like Patrick Roy.  He's from Enid, Oklahoma.  Chelf.  As in Choo Choo.  As in chugga, chugga, chugga, chugga.  As in CHAMPION.

The good ol' days. If I hear one more OSU basketball fan talk about the "good ol' days of Gallagher Iba," I may lose my mind.  "I miss the good ol' days," they say.  "It's not like it used to be," they moan.  You know why it's not like it used to be?  Because of fans like you, who are holding on to the way things were 10 years ago.  Times change. Basketball isn't played in the past.  It's played right now, in the present.  So knock off the "back in my day," speak and get your butt in the seat.  I'll be there, yelling so loud I get light-headed.  Keep it up, and soon you'll be saying, "Remember when OSU had a championship team, and I was too busy complaining on facebook to support them?  I should have listened to Kathy."

Time outs and hugs. Saturday night was so amazing.  If I would have had feeling in my toes, it would have been the absolutely perfect night.  Here are the things you need to know about my experience at this game:

1. On two different occasions after big defensive plays, I yelled, "GET ON HIS LEVEL!"  If you were curious how ridiculous I am, there's your answer.
2. There is a lady who sits a couple rows behind us who has a very loose grasp on the rules of football.  I suppose that's fine (not really), but she screams/squawks loudly throughout each game.  When she screams, it sounds like someone is torturing a baby lamb. I assume it's similar to what haunted Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs ("lambs...they were screaming.") Sometimes she just yells out random things like, "Their socks look like boots!" or "What in the world are they doing?!"  It's called a squib kick.  Get it together, lady.  But her favorite thing to do is scream to the sidelines for a time out.  It takes every bit of self control for me not to turn around and point out that they pay Gundy almost $4 million a year to know when to call timeouts.  Slow your roll.  
3. On the other end of the spectrum, we had a guy sit in front of us, who was so joyous, it was contagious.  At one point, he lost a glove giving high fives.  As I've stated before, I'm not really a high five type of person.  But I went so far as to DOUBLE high five this guy.  And then, the best play ever occurred.  Baylor was threatening to score, everyone was nervous they were going to make a game of it.  The screaming lamb was yelling, "What are you doing?! Tackle him!  Get an interception!  Throw it to Blackmon!" and then they muffed the snap.  Touchdown Cowboys!  I yelled the entire time. I was jumping up and down, pulling on Husband's sleeve.  It was amazing.  And the guy in front of us hugged everyone around him.  He just went down the row.  Who am I to say no to a guy wearing one glove and giving out free hugs?  So I embraced a stranger.  That's how great Saturday night was.

Reflection.  Before the season started, I wrote my little "wish list" blog about what I wanted out of the Cowboys this year.  As a reminder, I asked for the following, "I want the Cowboys to break someone else's heart this year...crush the souls of some other fan base."  And lo and behold, we did it!  And it felt as good as I had predicted.  If we beat OU, my prediction/wish list blog may certify me as a clairvoyant. I can see the future.  GET ON MY LEVEL!  

I'm sorry, your list is incomplete

Guys, I have to admit, I'm extremely humbled.  Everyone seems to be in the list-making mood, which I can only assume was inspired by this blog and the many, many lists I've made over the years.  I'd like to thank my family, my OCD-based need to write everything down, and my intuitive nature that lets me know that everything in some way or form ties back to me.  This is all very touching.

In honor of the "I've been given #9" trend, I shall present you with my list of strangest things to happen to me this week.  I've been give #3.  I gave it to myself.

1. I met a college kid this week, who upon learning that I was an Oklahoma State grad said, "I'm sorry."  It was not the response I was looking for.  My immediate reaction was a desire to shove him to the ground and yell, "Sorry?  I'll show you sorry!"  Just kidding, I'm a pacifist, I would never do that.  Okay, maybe I would, it's hard to say.  I think the more proper response would have been one of the following:

• "Oooooh, that's so impressive!  You must be brilliant."
• "I'm so jealous.  I wish I could have gone there."
• "Orange really is the prettiest color."
• "Wow, your football, basketball, wrestling, and baseball teams are so much better than ours.  What's it like to be a winner?"

Whatever, kid.  I'm proud of my orange blood and Cowboyness, and you should be careful who you say that to in the future.  Kathy would straight up karate chop your throat.

2. Yesterday morning, I was perusing Twitter.  I saw a post declaring how amazing this video was because it feature Toronto Mayor Ford wearing a jersey with "Mayor Ford" on the back.  Always up for a good soundbite and crazy Canadian antics, I clicked on through.  Ummmm, there was no warning of what that whack-a-doo was going to say.  To say the very least, it was not appropriate for work.  Or home.  Or life.  Okay, I'm overreacting, but what he said was the LAST thing I expected to come out of a politician's mouth.  Good gracious.  I won't repeat it on here, because 1. I'm a lady and 2. If someone googles my name in the future, that specific phrase is not something I wanted associate with this extremely professional and classy brand I've built for myself.  

I'm telling you guys, he's like Charlie Sheen and Chris Farley rolled into one, with a sprinkling of Jim Carey (he's the first insane Canadian to come to mind).  Note to self, do not open any Mayor Ford links at work.

3. And finally, the internet jumped up and bit me again yesterday afternoon.  Twitter is a dangerous mysterious land, people.  You all need to be more careful.  Someone I follow posted the following, "Ummmm....{instagram link}."  I was intrigued.  What could this be?  This girl is neither offensive nor Canadian, so I figured I was safe.  Not true.  It was a picture of a possum.  And it was bleeding from the mouth.  And it had tumors on it's snout.  Yes, it was literally my worst nightmare.  The only thing that could have made it worse is if it was in 3D.  I froze, threw up on my keyboard and broke into a cold sweat.  Actually, none of those things happened, but I did get nauseous...

Because possums are the devil.  How many times do we have to go over this?  It's not a joke.  They are horrible, horrible animals.  Somebody get Obama on the phone, it needs to be mandated that no one can post pictures of them without a fair warning.  And it should say, "WARNING: This is the worst thing you will ever see."

I came home and told Husband of the multiple landmines I stepped on throughout the day.  After telling him about being lured into the evil Twitter trap, the following conversation occurred:

Kathy:  Do you know this means there are possibly a wild herd of cancerous possums running lose in Oklahoma City?  If I ever saw one of those in person, I would first soil myself and then pass out.  I think we have to move.

Husband: Move from Oklahoma City?

Kathy: Move out of Oklahoma.

Husband: We should move to Canada...they seem like a fun group of people.

All the Single Ladies Run Roughshod

You know how a really good interview answer is to talk about the importance of being a life-long learner?  How you should always strive to learn something new, never settle for what you already know?  There is always more to learn, more ways to expand your knowledge and understanding, and more ways to grow... Well, I rocked that theory this weekend.  Freakin' Encyclopedia Brown up in here!  Okay, maybe that metaphor doesn't work...because he already knew stuff.  My weekend was probably closer to Amelia Bedelia, if we are sticking with literary characters from my childhood, and why wouldn't we?

I'd like to start with a sincere apology to you, my readers.  The title of last Friday's blog was, "Friday List." I didn't even have the courage to come up with anything that resembled clever.  I'm better than that.  You deserve more.  Hence my power-packed title today.  The median of the two should equal something similar to an enjoyable pun.

These are the things I've learned since last writing...

...The Kansas band is a good time.  Of everyone at the stadium on Saturday, they were clearly having the best time.  At half time, they did the Beyonce Single Ladies dance.  And because of that, no matter what the scoreboard said, to me, they were the real winners that day...

...The phrase is "running roughshod," not "running rickshaw."  I'm guessing, I was probably the only one who didn't know this.  It makes more sense to me to say, "We ran rickshaw over them."  I  like that mental image of running over someone with a wooden cart you power with your legs.  I don't even know what a roughshod is.  Can we lobby to change it?  What is that petition website?  Let's get this movement going! Moveon.org!...oh wait, I think I'm off topic.  Anyway, I was reading another blog, saw the phrase, "ran roughshod," and I thought, "what an idiot!  Everyone knows it's 'ran rickshaw.'"  Much to my chagrin, "everyone" didn't know that.  Apparently, it's my own private idiom.  Not to be confused with my own private Idaho...

...I think I might be a closet Lil' Wayne fan.  I know, I know.  I was so firm in my dislike of him...but my icy heart is starting to melt.  I'm softening to Weezy.  His lyrics are just so clever.  I can't put my finger on why I have such negative feelings towards him.  Maybe it's because he's barely 5 feet tall and has a funny looking face.  Or maybe it's his face tattoos. Regardless, I think we have an unlikely friendship forming.  We're like those Youtube videos of pigs and dogs who become best friends.  Because let's be honest, there is nothing cuter than baby pigs and puppies...except maybe a baby pig with a face tattoo.  The image of a piglet with a teardrop tat is giving me the giggles...

...Texas fans don't really have much of a sense of humor.  And they don't like it when you tell them that you, in fact, really like Mack Brown.  When you bring up the OSU game, and tell them, "After we beat Texas this weekend..." Longhorn fans just stare at you.  Even I can crack a fake smile.  Where did all your joy go, burnt orange nation?  Lighten up a little.  And for the record, I'm not even convinced we are going to win, but that has never stopped me from being obnoxious.  We are totally going to run rickshaw over them.

Friday List

I couldn't decide the topic I wanted to run with today, so I'm abandoning structure, and I will present to you a list.  I'm good at making lists.  And they are easier to write than something thoughtful.  Sometimes I'm lazy, get over it.

1. I have lots of thoughts on the Richie Incognito situation, but mainly I'd like to point out the similarities between him and Ben Afleck's character in Dazed in Confused.  You guys remember O'Bannion?  Remember how seriously he took hazing the freshman, and how Randal Pink realized how stupid it actually was?  Well, I kind of feel like Randall Pink in this whole thing.  Where's Carl's mom when we need her?  Party at the moon tower.
2. So, college football last night...that was something.  Thank God I don't bet on sports, I would have woken up much poorer this morning. I'm not a college football expert, and I'm not trying to pile on to Sooner fans' misery...but I don't think Blake Bell, or Bullethead as my brother calls him, is the answer.  Also, I'm a little tired of Oregon losing to those smarty pants trees.  And that's all the football analysis you're going to get from me.
3. I had a dream last night that I was hanging out with my good friend and her baby who is just a month younger than my kiddo.  In the dream, my friend's 12 month old baby, was speaking in clear, full sentences.  I woke up completely stressed out because her baby was more advanced than mine.  If I have to look back to a point in my life when I officially lost it, it will be last night when my competitiveness spilled over into my dreams.
4. Sometimes it's almost unbelievable how wrong Husband gets cliches and colloquialisms.  Here is an example of a recent conversation:
   Kathy: You know Howard (name changed to protect the innocent) won't talk to me.
   Husband: Oh yeah?
   Kathy: Yeah, I say "Good Morning" to him every day, and he acts like he doesn't hear me.
   Husband: Maybe he can't hear you.
   Kathy: No, he speaks to everyone else but me.  I'll say, "Good Morning," he is silent, and then someone else walks by and he shouts, "Hey!  Howya doin'?!"
   Husband: That's kind of funny.
   Kathy: I think it's kind of mean.  But I will just keep talking to him.  Eventually, I'll break him.
   Husband: That's right.  Kill him with sugar.
   Kathy: Ummm... I think that's called diabetes. I think you mean kindness.
   Husband: Yeah, sure.  Whatever.
5. I swear on everything holy if we don't beat Kansas tomorrow, I'm staging a sit-in on Gundy's lawn.  You all are invited.  I'll make the signs. You bring the snacks.
6. I'm headed to the first OSU basketball game of the season tonight.  Let me say this now, and let me be clear...get on the bus now.  This is the season, y'all.  You want to follow this team.  You want to be a basketball fan this year.  They are awesome, and through the law of transference (Is that a thing? Did I make that up?) you will be more awesome for cheering them on.  Get on this bandwagon.  I'll bring the signs, you bring the snacks.

No, No...Thank YOU!

It’s that time of year…November.  Should be Yesvember, because everyone is in the spirit of announcing what they are thankful for.  It’s a facebook tradition (<-- it’s true, those exist) to write about what you are thankful for every day in November.  Each year, I see people do it.  Each year, I think, “meh.”  Not because I have a problem with those who do, but more because, I’m not convinced that I can think of 30 things I’m thankful for.  How pathetic is that?  I can’t think of 30 measley things I’m happy to have.  I can think of 492 that annoy me, but thankful?  Apparently, I'm ungrateful.  I'm currently typing blind, for my head is hung in shame.

I thought about just writing a blog where I listed 30 things I was thankful for, knock out every day in one single post.  But I quickly realized that no one actually wants to read that.  It would be a bad version of Buzzfeed…which if we are all being honest with each other, is pretty bad to start.  Add Buzzfeed to my annoy list.

So, instead, I’m taking the angle of what am I thankful for right NOW.  This way, I’m kind of participating, but no one has to depend on me to be thankful every day.  We all come out of this as thankful winners.

• I'm thankful OSU beat Texas Tech this weekend.  There are lots of reasons this makes me happy, but a lot of it has to do with Tech fans accusing Oklahoma State of "stealing" their traditions.  I'm going to let you in on a secret: you guys didn't invent a person riding a horse.  That's actually been going on for quite a while now. See Lawrence of Arabia or the Pony Express.
• I'm thankful for Desmond Roland and Rennie Childs.  They are great little runners.  No idea why it took seven games to figure this out, but that's not the point.  I like to think me screaming, "THAT'S NOT WORKING!" each game had something to do with the change in running back.
• I'm thankful for crockpots.  They are so wonderful.  Magical meal makers.  I wish I could use the crock pot for every meal.
• I'm thankful for all the crazy people in my life.  I've upped the ante lately with the amount of cuckoo in my life.  They are all material for the best seller I'm going to write some day.  So bring it on nutsos, don't think for a minute that I'm not taking notes.
• I'm thankful for conversations like this:
  Husband: I guess there were earthquakes last night
  Kathy: Yeah, I just read that.  It is earthquake season.
  Husband: Earthquake season?  That's a thing?
  Kathy: Yes.  Earthquakes happen in the fall around here.
  Husband: Is that scientifically proven?
  Kathy:  It's, "I only have memories of earthquakes happening during football season" proven.
  Husband: Good enough for me.

So there you go, five things I'm thankful for at this very moment.  Maybe my heart isn't made of stone after all.  There's hope.

**Editor's note: It goes without saying, I'm thankful for my family and friends, baby and dog, my blessed life and charmed existence.  But I just don't think crockpots get enough love...I'd be devastated if I lose mine this earthquake season.

I'll take two Kathy's and a side of queso

I don't know if I've used this picture before, but I like it very much, so if I have, let's all pretend it's brand new.  Great.

So it's the day after Halloween and we're all crashing from our candy highs.  We all feel a little guilty for stuffing our faces with Mexican food for the second Friday in a row at lunch.  Oh, that's just me?  I'm the only one with queso guilt for consecutive weeks?  Okay then.  Now I'm embarrassed.

A friend of mine told me that I need to be a little more consistent with my blogging.  He said I need to write more on a schedule, so he can know when to expect my amazing thoughts to be put out on the interwebs.  I mean, really?  I cannot be contained.  I'm freakin' Maria.  How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?  He does, however, have a point.  So I'm going to aim for Monday & Friday blogs, with some Wednesday's sprinkled in for funsies.  Don't get your hopes up though...I'm not super dependable.

On this sugar-crash, sleepy-from-lunch-queso-Friday, I'm going to share two random, unconnected thoughts. In no particular order...

I'm a salty football fan at the moment.  Some might even say surly.  The Cowboys broke my heart so early this year, every game is met with a "meh," reaction.  Essentially, they stole my sunshine.  I'm also annoyed that both Texas Tech and Baylor are good.  Sure, they haven't played anyone, but neither have we.  And we still managed to lose.  We lost to a team that may not win another game...that's hard to do.  That takes effort.  I don't have my blind hope each week like in previous years.  Instead, I spend Sunday through Saturday morning preparing myself mentally that we will probably lose.  This is the worst. I'm just being Eeyore, looking for my tail.  Must find tail and knock this off.

So, this week we take on the mighty Fightin' Tortilla Throwers and their California Dreamboat head coach.  And before you get offended they do actually throw tortillas at Texas Tech.  No one has explained to me why, but it is their "thing."  People in Lubbock are weird, the Dixie Chicks taught me that.  I'd like to see a little soul-stomping by my Cowboys Saturday night.  Crush their spirits, ruin their season, make pretty boy cry.  We can all just mute it and pretend he's just revealed how much he loves Rachel McAdams.  Win, win for everyone.  Except Tech.  No win for Tech, that's the goal.  See how quickly I turned my attitude around?  It was just a matter of minutes, and now I'm back to my foolishly optimistic ways.  Welcome back, Kath!

I emailed Husband a little earlier and asked him if he had any suggestions for what I should blog about.  He wrote back and said, "Yes.  Cloning."  And then went on and on about how he needed a clone because he's so busy.  So...that's not exactly what I was looking for, but we'll go with it.  Because I will write about anything that I am asked, I promise.

Let's all imagine a world with more than one Kathy.  Can you even get your mind wrapped around that?  Uh. Mazing.  Twice the laughs.  Twice the fodder.  We'd all be better off.  More than likely, I'd make Kathy 2.0 do the following things:

1. Fold socks.  I hate folding socks.  I get physically angry every time I do it.  I think I might actually be allergic to folding socks.  Still waiting on the doctor to call me back on that one.
2. Make my fantasy football waiver requests.  I forget every week, and then I get stuck without a tight end.  Kathy Two will be much more responsible than me. And maybe she won't be an idiot and draft Brandon Pettigrew every year.  Hopefully, she's the more logical version of who I'm supposed to be.
3. Pay taxes.  I hate paying taxes more than folding socks, which believe me, is A LOT.  Kathy Two should probably start setting money aside so she doesn't cuss a lot when she finds out how much she owes at the end of the year.
4. And finally, this is the most important one...watch OSU lose.  Watching the Cowboys lose is probably my least favorite thing in the entire world.  Ever.  But I almost always have this tiny, tiny glimmer of hope that tells me, "Don't stop watching, they can still come back."  And I always think to myself, if they pull off the greatest comeback in sports history and you weren't watching, you will never forgive yourself.  So I watch.  And we never pull off the comeback.  And I turn into the salty fan I referenced earlier.  So, if I can get another one of me, and SHE can watch, I think I will have effectively solved the problem. She can take on the heartache of defeat, and I only have to experience joy and winning. 

What we are probably going to need to do is make sure that Kathy Two has the the power to freeze time either by putting her two forefingers together (ala Out of this World) or by calling "Timeout!" like Zack Morris.  Then we can switch places.  Any things take a turn, ZING!, switch places!

I could have used Kathy around 12:30 pm today to knock the tortilla chip out of my hand.  Let's hope I don't need her tomorrow.  (Insert big dramatic sigh).

To the loser goes the gift card

I had big plans for the blog today.  Big, big plans.  I was going to share with you about my amazing game show experience.  It was going to be my shining moment.  I had this blog outlined in my head, ready to write after my numerous victories.   But I lost.  And now I am le sad.  A big, sad, non-shiny loser.  Cue the sad trombone.

But you know what?  I'm going to tell you about the experience anyway.  For  my shame is transparent.  I tried out for a local trivia game show about a month ago at the State Fair of Oklahoma.  Yes, you read that sentence correctly.  While I officially competed against two other people in my tryout, I really only competed against one.  Junior didn't answer one question.  Not a single one.  He never used his buzzer.  His wife yelled at me later that she was pretty sure I was cheating.  If you call being brilliant cheating, then guilty as charged, lady.  So, last week I was notified that I was chosen as a contestant on America's newest game show: Wild Card!  I had an inflated sense of self confidence.  And then last night, I started to get very nervous.  What if they made the questions harder?  What if I froze when the red light came on, ala Cindy Brady? (I purposely didn't wear pigtails for that very reason).  When I got to the green room today, I started to get more nervous.  There were lots of knowledge bombs being dropped.  It became clear quickly, this was not a room filled with Juniors.

Here are the highlights of my first and probably last game-show appearance:

• I lost the ability to tell the difference between clubs and spades (twice).  I've always struggled with this.  I'm playing card dumb.  So, that wasn't my finest moment.  Luckily it was recorded by television cameras for posterity's sake.
• I got the one and only sports question right.  Obvi.  
• I was slow on the buzzer.  Tis the achilles of many a game show contestant.  Realizing I needed to make a move, I buzzed in to one answer before the question was complete.  I did not have any idea what the answer was, so I rambled on and on.  The answer was, "True."  Because it was a true or false question.  So if you are keeping score at home, I managed to look quite foolish three times, which is consistent with my daily average.
• I need to work on my frowny face.  Husband came to cheer me on and took several pictures. As I was scrolling through them, I noticed a consistent theme: Kathy has a frowny face.  I believe the scientific term is BRF.

My parting gift was a gift certificate to a restaurant in Choctaw.  So, I'm going to need to figure out how to get to Choctaw, I guess.

So that's that.  I lost and am pretty disappointed.  I'll probably bounce back, but who really knows.  I need a good case of game night where I can dominate my opponents and shove it down their throats to make myself feel better.  I believe the scientific term for that is Poor Sport.

Baby, you might be nuts

I would like to begin this blog by stating that I am aware that mental illness is a real problem in this country and no laughing matter.  It is an underserved community that leads to so many other social issues.  It has to be dealt with openly and honestly.  That being said, I think my baby might be crazy.  She is either suffering from bi-polar disorder, split personality, or becoming Two Face from Batman.

One moment she is laughing hysterically at things that frankly aren't that funny, like her feet, the fan, Wheel of Fortune, or rubber ducks in the bath, and the next she literally loses her mind.  How can you go from so happy to sunken into the depths of despair in 15 seconds?  How is that possible?  And how long can I anticipate the bowing of one's back and throwing the head back stage to last?  Is that coming to an end soon?  When do we start to handle upset feelings with maturity?  I'm hoping the answer is 14 months.  Because I find throwing yourself on the floor to express yourself to be a tad dramatic.

This morning we had a problem with spending time by ourselves while Mommy got ready.  I pose this question to you, dear reader, who is really the crazy one?  The child who had to have constant contact or she might perish?  Or me, who tried to reason with her by saying, "You have to allow me to put on pants.  They won't let me go to work without pants."  'Tis a glamorous life I lead.

In other news, I am starting to feel sports-overwhelemed.  Too many.  Too many sports going on.  I can't keep up.  If the World Cup qualifying games had been on TV last night, I might have just gone completely over the edge.  I don't know why I feel the need to follow them all.  I don't work for ESPN, it's okay to let a few go.  But no!  I must flip between eight different types of competition in case I'm called in as a guest on local sports radio.  As we are in the midst of the ALCS and NLCS, Husband and I have had the following conversations.  This is what it sounds like when two people who aren't really baseball fans, watch playoff baseball.

Game 2 of ALCS, Detroit vs. Boston.

Kathy: You remember the movie City of Angels?

Torri Hunter & Cassiel the Angel

Husband: With Nicholas Cage?
Kathy: Yeah.  Remember the guardian angel?
Husband: Ummmm....
Kathy: Well, he's playing outfield for the Tigers now.
Husband: I don't think I remember what he looks like.
Kathy: You don't have to remember.  I just told you.  He looks just like Torii Hunter.
Husband: Weird.  You think he'd still be playing for Anaheim.




Game 4 of NLCS, St. Louis vs. Los Angeles

The two John Jays

Kathy: Sheesh, John Jay is having a tough series.
Husband: Who?
Kathy: John Jay, the center fielder.
Husband: Oh, he was also a founding father of our country.
Kathy: He's held up remarkably well.
Husband: True.  I'm going to let that dropped ball slide, he's done a lot for our country.


And that ladies and gentlemen is your brief history/pop culture lesson for the day.  I just got all Alex Trebek up in here.

I usually try to wrap up each blog by tying everything together.  I've sat here for 10 minutes and I just can't.  The key takeaways for you are 1.Living with my baby is what I assume living with Andy Kauffman was like.  Hilarious moments, lots of physical comedy, crashing into things, and unreasonable emotional reactions to running out of goldfish crackers.  And 2. Husband and I's conversations sometimes resemble bad stand-up comedy.  Kind of like the Smothers Brothers.  Thank God we have each other.

You are getting on my nerves

Before I get into this blog I have to share a quick story with you.  Last week, I turned to my personal assistant, Google, to tell me how often I was supposed to rotate my tires.  Thank God for Google, it keeps me functioning.  As I was typing, "How often do you..." Google autocompleted the question for me.  And do you want to know how they finished the question?  "How often do you need to change your bra?"  Seriously, I'm not making that up.  That's a question someone turned to the internet to answer. And apparently it's asked so often, Google just anticipated I needed to know too.  I fear for this society.  After I discovered that you are supposed to rotate your tires every 5,000 miles, I went back and checked what the answer was to the bra question.  Fear not, I'm doing it right.

Moving on...

I'm starting to think I might be more irritable than normal people.  Do you ever have one of those days where every thing that happens gets on your nerves?  Well that day lasted 96 hours for me last week.  It started with the government shutdown.  I think we can all agree that most problems can be traced back to John Boehner.  And for the record, that was a joke.  I have not the energy to argue politics with you.

I often dream of the day I'm old enough to just say whatever comes to my mind.  You know how old people just tell it like it is?  I love that.  I'm counting down the days when I can just walk up to a stranger and tell them, "Those pants look ridiculous on you."  But after several encounters last week, I think I might have crossed over into senior citizen status.  Bring on the polyester!  I had to tell three different people off last week.  Three.  I mean, come on, what gives?  If I keep these numbers up, I will be the most hated person in Oklahoma City by January.  I hope there is some sort of ceremony at least.

I used the following phrases last week:

• "You are providing poor customer service and I no longer wish to work with you."
• "I will not tolerate being bullied.  You owe me an apology, which I'm sure I won't get."
• "Hey!  I'm one of those idiots you're talking about!"

It really is exhausting being me.  Always fighting for the little guy. 

Speaking of being the little guy, in an attempt to get back to my birth weight, I've been doing Jillian Michael's workout DVDs.  She is the meanest person on the planet.  She comes up with the craziest moves known to man.  It's like she thinks, "how about I make them do squats while doing a one-handed push up."  And then screams, "MAKE SURE TO USE YOUR ABS!"  She's just making stuff up.  These aren't actual workout moves, it's just a bunch jumping in the air, doing a flying sit up and landing in plank.  And then she gives them cute names like burpies, rockstars, and moguls.  Just call them what they are: torture moves.  I refer to them as waterboarding, draw and quarters, and the assassin's bullet.  I'm just keeping it real.

Keep it up, Jillan and you just might be the next person to feel the wrath of Kathy.  

Side note: Kathy's Wrath sounds like a good strong drink.  It could literally be liquid courage.  As Drake says, you only live once.  Might as well go out guns blazin'.

Bob Simmons, Paula Abdul and Twitter, Oh My!

The last two weeks have been a blur.  They have gone something like this: state fair, state fair, state fair, state fair, first birthday party, trip to Austin, football debacle, football elation, fall has arrived, new niece has arrived, and so on.  Obviously, the highlight of the these two weeks was the cute little baby who joined our family. Welcome little one, we've been waiting for you.

Let's move on to the superficial stuff, shall we?  I'll just hit the highlights.

1. Run it up the middle for two...  So did you guys catch that OSU game on Saturday?  Fun stuff.  It had such a vintage feel.  And by vintage, I mean, Cowboy Football circa 1998-2000.  Remember when every offensive series featured Nathan Simmons running it up the middle for a gain of 1, gain of 2, no gain, and then punting?  That was a super fun time to be a fan.  Look, I took non-business stats my sophomore year in college.  1 + 2 + 0 doesn't equal 10...and 10 yards is the goal.   I'm no Chip Kelly, but if running it to the right on every single third down doesn't work, you might want to mix it up a little.  You know they say the definition of a crazy person is someone who does the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.  Using SAT logic, I hypothesize that our offensive coordinator is crazy as a bag of hammers.

The positive takeaway from Saturday's humiliating loss is that my baby no longer cries when I yell at the TV during games.  It only took a year to desensitize her to mommy screaming during sporting events.  Yay me!  Mother of the year.

2. USC you later.  By the time ASU kicked off at 9:30 p.m., I had pulled myself together to cheer on another football team.  It's called rallying, and I excel at it.  After a bit of a sputter, the Sun Devils put together an amazing performance (minus the complete inability to stop the run).  In the third quarter, I texted Husband and told him, "I hope we score 60.  I hate Lane Kiffin."   And the Devils came through.  They scored 62 and crushed the souls of the opponents.  It was awesome.  It was such a beat down, USC fired Lane Kiffin at the airport upon his arrival.  They didn't even let him ride the team bus home.  In the wise words of Paula Abdul, "c-c-c-cold hearted...ssssssnake."  Love it.

3. Tweet, tweet, that's so sweet.  Twitter is a strange animal.  You can interact with complete strangers and say anything you want.  Anything.  You could tweet someone you've never met and tell them you hate them.  I'm not really sure why you would do that, but it is a possibility.  You can also have a robot dog as a pet.  There is a lot about the world I don't understand.  Anyway, Saturday I was on the receiving end of a stranger's angry tweet.  This is about the fourth time this has happened to me.  I have yet to figure out why strangers value my dumb opinion so much, they feel the need to reach out to me and tell me I'm wrong.  Obviously these people aren't aware that I'm told on a regular basis that I'm wrong by people I know, I don't really need their input.

This is the general interaction, names and Twitter handles have been changed to protect the innocent.

ASU Fan site I follow: Corso and Herbstreit both pick USC?  More national disrespect?
Kathy's response: Yeah, but Herbstreit still thinks Mike Stoops is a good coach.  He knows nothing.
Angry Stranger response to me: He is a good coach.  Apparently, you know nothing.

I was intrigued.  This girl is an OU fan who doesn't follow me, with no detectable connection to ASU.  How did she even find my tweet?  Is she keyword searching Mike Stoops? And if so, why?  I had a couple of options: 1. Ignore her (not going to happen). 2. Point out the fact that Mike Stoops was fired from Arizona because he was in fact, not a good coach.  Or 3. Hit her with snark.  I think we all know which route I chose.

My response to her: Show me, don't tweet me.

For, Kevin Durant is my muse.

Speaking of Twitter, I saw this little nugget of genius on Saturday... "If Gundy would just check Twitter."  Fingers crossed for the day he says in a press conference, "So, I was reading this girl Kathy's blog and I think we've figured out the problem."  He is so lucky to have me analyzing his every move.  You're welcome, Mike Gundy, you're welcome.

I'm starting to think he might have been the anonymous poster who told me my last blog wasn't funny...  You know what I don't think is funny?  A starting running back who has a total of 1 yard for the game. So there.

You can quote me on that

Oh my, it has been a hard news week for my beloved alma mater.  I kind of feel like the Oklahoma State football program are the Pretty Little Liars and Sports Illustrated is A.  Just leave us alone!

Seeing as 90% of my facebook friends are OSU fans, and 80% of who I follow on Twitter are either Cowboy-connected or sports oriented, I have officially gotten my fill of coverage.  Everyone in Cowboy Nation is fired up.  Like someone just kicked their momma.  I am too.  Thayer Evans is an unlawful combatant who needs to be smoked out of his hole.  He is a bad human.  But, unlike the impassioned posts I've read all week, I'm taking a lighter look at the whole thing.  Come along with me if you want, should be a great time.

Let's look at the things that caused me to question the validity of this story...

1. OSU is a powerhouse.  As one of my Sooner friends (it's true, I have a couple) pointed out, "I dunno about you guys, but my first hint that the SI report lacks credibility was them calling OSU 'a major college football factory.'" I mean, she has a point.  Supposedly, the point of the expose was to figure out how a "cellar-dweller" rose so quickly to national prominence.  Quickly?  It has taken my whole damn life.  And if we just focus on the last 10 years, there were PLENTY of games that someone should have paid me to sit and suffer through.  Where the hell were my benefits?  Where's my sock o' money?!  

2. We aren't very good at cheating.  If I understand this award-winning five part piece, OSU is terrible at cheating.  Apparently we gave money to guys after getting beat by 40 points.  My god, how much were they raking in when Texas was whipping us?  And we were writing papers for kids who flunked out.  Are our tutors stupid too?  And then of course we let the entire team smoke out before games.  I'm no football genius, but I feel like that isn't actually going to help the performance.  I watch Intervention, being high doesn't make you good at football...but apparently it does help you play XBox.

3. Using money at the clubs.  One of the upstanding young men who was interviewed said he sold drugs while he was on the team and made from $100 to $300 a week to "go out to the clubs."  Clubs? What clubs?  Last I checked, there are no clubs in Stillwater.  There are stinky college bars where your feet stick to the floor and the bathrooms are never clean.  Beer costs $2.50 in Stillwater.  All you need is $30 and a good attitude to have a good time.  

4. Drinking bleach.  Apparently, some guy drank bleach to try to pass a drug test.  This could easily be true.  But good lord, if it is, that's your story.  Who recruited someone so dumb that they drank bleach?  Fire that coach.  Investigate that.

5. Gundy did something cool.  In today's article, it was claimed that Gundy made a "weed-smoking" motion to one of the guys in the weight room.  Really?  He tucks his damn sweatshirt into his khakis.  This guys isn't doing anything that cool.  

So, there you go, that's Kathy's theory into why this whole thing is fishy.  Kathy doesn't lie.  You can trust her.  She won a Pulitzer Prize.  Don't believe me?  Well some guy who is in prison told me so, so I think we all know who to believe here.

Tomorrow we hear about sex, which is usually how I kick off my weekends.  I'm sure it will be a super believable story about how some guy was having sex on the sidelines, while Miles was writing his term paper.  All in a days work.

I'm looking forward to gameday.  Let's focus on what's important here: football.  As Les Miles said, "I don't care what you do off the field, just win."  Okay, I might have combined Les Miles and Al Davis there, but if we've learned anything from Sports Illustrated it's that accuracy doesn't really matter.  We're not playing horseshoes or hand grenades here.

Can't wait for Lamar to come to town.  I wonder if he's bringing Khloe with him...I hear they are having problems.

(Orange) Angels Among Us

Sweet jacket, buddy!  The flames/claw marks really show your school spirit.

Do you all remember that song by Alabama, Angels Among Us?  Looking back, the song is a little over the top.  It was also over the top to play it during rush and cry and cry, but I was a very emotional collegiate.  Anywho, the gist of the song is that there are angels all around us, sent down to be with us in our darkest hour.  In all seriousness, I completely believe in this theory.  But for the purpose of this blog, let's focus on sports angels, not to include anyone in Anaheim.

I believe in little sports angels, who fly around wearing knee socks, wrist bands, and sports goggles.  Apparently, my angels all look like Kareem Abdul Jabbar, just not as tall.  But totally as smart (seriously, do you guys know how smart he is?  He's brilliant).  Okay, anyway, my little sports angels either help me out, will my team to win or comfort me when we blow it.  It's  a complex job.

So, I've added them to my pre-season prayer.

Dear God, Universe, and orange-clad sports Angels,

I feel like most years, I haven't been greedy.  In fact, I've been quite reasonable.  For example, I didn't need it ALL, just some happy things.  Well this year, I want it all.  I will not apologize for my demanding ways.

Big XII Championship: I want this outright.  No wonky three-way tie.  Beat OU. Beat Texas.  Beat TCU.  Beat K-State and it's ours.  And for God's sake, beat Iowa State and Baylor.  We have a good schedule and with the smallest conference in the country, this shouldn't be too difficult.  Win the Big XII.

No Heart-Breakers: Seriously, enough is enough.  The Texas and OU games last year were enough to  last me for at least three more seasons.  For the love of everything holy, Texas beat us without even scoring.  Yeah, the kid wasn't even in the end zone.  Typing this is making me angry.  And the OU game... I made my baby cry.  How does that make you feel?  It should make you feel awful.  I felt a twinge of guilt as she sobbed and sobbed because mommy had just lept from the couch and was screaming, "NOOOOOO!  Stop him!" as Blake Bell ran into the endzone.  Don't make babies cry.  Or even better, make Texas and Sooners babies cry.  YES!  That is what I want.  I want the Cowboys to break someone else's hearts this year.  Win it on a Hail Mary/Statue of Liberty/break free for a run of 62 last-second drive.  Crush the souls of some other fan base.  Yes!  Yes! Yes!  This is the key to my happiness. I should move this to the top of the list.  Now, if I can just decide if I'd rather it be OU or Texas.  If we did it to both, it might go down as The Greatest Season.  Forget Barry Sanders and his 1988 Heisman Run, this would be the best ever.

Better Intro: I keep asking for this, and it keeps not happening.  Give me an intro with 1. A song I know and 2. Words.  No more video of guys working out.  That isn't exciting.  I do not get pumped when I see someone deadlift.  I can't be alone on this.  Big hits, that's what I want to see.  Hell, if you need to, just show Jadeveon Clowney knocking that Michigan kid out from last year.  Everyone likes that clip...except for the Michigan kid.  Big hits, big catches, big runs.  This isn't rocket science.  Violence and scoring, that's what makes football fans happy.  Come on OSU Marketing Department, I know you've got it in you.

Bonus Request  We are still probably a season or so out to really see what Graham can do at ASU.  But I'd like two small things this year: 1. Beat Arizona.  2. Beat Oregon.  No explanation needed here.  That's what I'd like.  Have a good season, go to a bowl someone has heard of, and come back to challenge for the PAC title in 2014.  See how reasonable I am?  It is possible.

And that's it.  That's all I need to make this football season a success in my eyes?  How hard can that be?

Three Hail Marys, Amen and GO POKES!

Football 101

Yes, I realize this is a picture of a basketball, but I was going more for the message, not the picture.  On a side note, if you are super bored one day, you should check out nataliedee.com.  Funny, funny stuff.  It can be a little vulgar, so if you are easily offended, I'm not actually sure why you are reading my blog in the first place.

So every year, I write a wishlist to God and the Universe about my hopes and dreams for the upcoming OSU football season.  I plan to do that again this year, but I wanted to get a few thoughts off my chest about football in general.

First, I don't need one more magazine with Johnny Football on the cover.  I've exceeded my limit.  I don't know who I need to  contact at Sports Illustrated to let them know that I am not an A&M fan.  No more.  I think we can all agree that he broke the rules and he's going to get away with it.  Because that's the way the world works.  If he had been playing for Oklahoma State, they would shut down the entire football program and made each fan pay $1,000 as punishment for cheering for such a louse (yes, I used the word louse.  I'm apparently 86).  I think we can also all agree that the kid isn't all that smart.  How do I know this?  First, he hired a 20 year-old college dropout to be his agent and handle his media requests.  The funny thing about college sports is that there are these magical creatures called Sports Information Directors.  It is actually their full-time job to handle the media.  You don't have to hire your buddy from high school to do it.  It's a built in perk.  And I can guarantee that every single SID in the entire country is smarter than the jackhole Manziel has running his affairs.  Also, in one of the 64 articles I read about this kid, it talked about how he had to call his younger sister to walk him through making mac n' cheese.  Seriously?  Boil water, put noodles in, squirt yellow goo on noodles, stir, and serve.  I'm positive that my 11-month old could make mac n' cheese right now if I trusted her around the stove.  However, she can't be trusted around anything.  Spencer and Johnny Manziel...not to be trusted at all. And frankly, I'm sick of them both.  Just kidding, I love my kid.  It was a joke.  Stop judging me.

Second, I'm approaching this season with a bit of trepidation.  In our house, we cheer for three football teams:  Oklahoma State, Arizona State, and the Denver Broncos.  We have learned over the coarse of our marriage that it is against physics/science/God's will for all three teams to win the same weekend.  So, as the season is almost here, I wonder, who will suck this year?  Who will break my heart?  And if it's ASU, can I get some support on convincing Husband not to watch the games on delay via DVR?  He records the Sun Devils' games and will watch them in their entirety even though they've been over for hours.  I cannot stand this.  I always look up the score.  The thought that games are over and you don't know the results, is not something I can handle.  I always know when the Devils are going to lose, and I then in turn, subconsciously suggest we don't watch the recorded game.  By subconsciously, I mean, I usually say something to the effect, "I know how this ends.  You don't want to watch it."  I'm a good wife.

And finally, I have my final Fantasy Football draft this week.  I'm not off to the best start.  I've managed to draft a guy who is a free agent (oopsie) and a receiver who has Terrell Pryor throwing him the ball, so that should work out swimmingly.  I feel a big redemption coming on Thursday.  I will have to say, my team names this year are top notch.  Maybe I'll get some consolation money for being so witty.  For real, how do I get paid for my wit?  It is my destiny.  Behold Kathy's fantasy teams: Cry Me a Philip Rivers, Shannon Sharpe-nado, and Weeden My Brownies.

Go forth and score, people.