Literally....I can't even

If you know my hate of the overly, misused frequency of the word literally, you'll know just how serious I am about this post.  You guys, I'm watching Netflix's Making a Murderer and I literally can't even.

A few days ago, I saw all kinds of people all abuzz about this new documentary.  Maybe it's not actually new, but it's new to me.  A true crime documentary, nonetheless.  To which I said, "Hmmm, sounds like a long version of Dateline, I'm totally in. Let's do this."

See, I have a soft spot for true crime.  And for documentaries.  This was made for me!  Santa came early, y'all.  Oddly enough, when I was pregnant with Tiny Human, I read this book about the most famous unsolved crimes.  I think you're supposed to listen to classical music and crap, but not me.  I'm all, "maybe I can get the baby's heart rate up by scaring myself!"  Not wanting Small Fry to be left out, I've jumped feet first into this disturbing story about Steven Avery in nowhere, Wisconsin and basically how he is a victim of the most absurd injustices by the legal system you could ever imagine.  Or maybe he's guilty.  I DON'T KNOW!

I had the following conversation with Husband about this 10-part documentary: (I used a lot of capitalization to highlight the drama of the situation).

Kathy: OH MY GOD!
Husband: *comes around the corner* What's up?
Kathy: I need a support group while watching this show!  It is stressing me out!
Husband: *Laughs*
Kathy: It's not funny.  This is exhausting.  I mean, now there is a kid who is quite literally mentally slow who is just confessing to stuff....AND I CAN'T HANDLE THIS.
Husband: *shrugs*
Kathy: I'm so worked up, I sat here and considered sending a strongly worded letter to the public defender questioning him on if this is really how he does his job.  I DON'T EVEN KNOW THESE PEOPLE!
Husband: *laughs*
Kathy: WHY AREN'T YOU TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY?!  I'm really stressed out!
Husband: Maybe you should stop watching it.
Kathy: WHAT?!  I can't stop now.  I have to know that this ends happy.  That good outweighs evil.  But this guy is probably in jail.  Or has been put to death.  Because this is terrible and I can't turn away.  And I have SIX EPISODES TO GO!
Husband: well....
Kathy: I need you to please start watching it.  Please.  I need someone to talk to about it.
Husband: Mmmm....seeing how you are reacting, I don't think that's going to happen.
Kathy: FINE!  I'm on a lonely island of stress.


I don't want to spoil it and I will place a plague upon your house if you ruin it for me, but if there is anyone out there who is watching, let me know.  Send up a smoke signal.  I'm seeking solidarity.  I've been thinking about starting a book club, but in the meantime, I just need someone to talk to about Making a Murderer.  Or better yet, you binge watch the first four episodes and fax me when you've caught up.  If you need support in those first few episodes, just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I'll come running.  The emotions are still very raw, I can help you through this.

On an unrelated note, I'd like to take a moment to recognize myself for flawlessly working James Taylor lyrics into this blog.  I also used the word precipice in conversation today, and I'm 90% I used it correctly.  Basically, I'm winning at everything right now.  Everything but being emotionally equipped to handle a television show.  As the kids say, the struggle is real.

Thanks y'all

Turkey Day is just a day away and you know what that means?  Kathy needs to stop complaining and whip up a little list of things she is thankful for.  So fill up that gravy boat and read along, won't you?

Meaningful conversations.  On the way to work today, Tiny Human and I had a conversation about Drake.  It started with her telling me she didn't like Macklemore.  Fair enough.  He's not for everyone.  She does, however, like Hotline Bling.  She asked some pretty hard-hitting questions about Drake like, "Does he have a beard?" "Does he want a beard?" and "Does he have hair?"  I appreciated her desire to really get to know the artist.

          

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm not listening to Kidz Bop in the car.  Because I can't, that's why.  I watch Dora and tolerate that stupid Map App and I watch Frozen and answer the same questions about why Elsa freezes stuff (emotional baggage) every single time.  I draw the line with the radio.  I need to hear music I like.  And you know what?  I'm not listening to Eazy E or Too Short, so I think I'm doing okay.  P.S.  I'm also thankful for Eazy E.

Inspiration in strange places.  I've recently been bitten by the inspiration bug.  No need to worry, it's a small bite that can be treated with essential oils (I don't know anything about essential oils, but from what facebook tells me, they cure everything).  I've been watching Orange is the New Black and had a epiphany. I'm sure you are wondering, why are you just now watching OITNB?  Because, people, I'm a laggard.  Please consult the chart.  I wait until something has been fully vetted by the general population, so I'm not stuck looking like a sucker.  Google Glass, anyone?  

Anyway, Crazy Eyes' writing inspired me to jump feet first into writing myself.  I probably won't write erotica like her, but you never know.  It's time to stop talking about how I want to be a writer, and just be a writer.  If she can do it, so can I!  Pay no attention to the fact that she's a character on TV, THAT'S NOT THE POINT.  I was also kind of inspired by a book I just finished.  It was really bad.  And if crap like that can get published and receive a good review, ergo tricking me into reading it, then what am I doing on the sidelines?  

I was also inspired by a random run in at Whole Foods.  As I stood inline to check out with two pies, two types of scones and cinnamon rolls, I noticed that Russell Westbrook's wife was in line in front  of me.  Looking at her made me feel bad about myself.  Thanks a lot, tall perfect-bodied former collegiate athlete.  And then I reminded myself, in a mere 12 weeks, I won't have to wear elastic and feel like a turtle caught on his back every time I lay down.  After Tiny Human #2 makes his arrival, I too can wear cute outfits and carry $3000 purses and be married to one of the greatest basketball players in the world.  

Football season is coming to an end.  Yes, you read that right, I'm thankful that college football season is coming to an end.  Bless it, this season has been a roller coaster.  This is an accurate description of how I've felt watching the Cowboys since August:

Holy lord, we are terrible ---> Well, at least we won ----> We will lose at least five games, maybe six. ---> How do we keep winning?  -----> I'm starting to think we have made a pact with the devil....I'm totally okay with that ----> Someone please tell me when it's safe to start breathing again. ---> Hey!  Maybe we are pretty good after all!  We just beat a top ranked team! ---->  Nope, spoke too soon.  We have flaws, but we keep winning, so that's something right? ---->  Frick!  OU looks really good.  Frick!  ----> Oh...It's all coming back to me.  Losing isn't fun at all.  At what point do I need to start accepting that a comeback isn't going to happen?  ----> Frick.  Bedlam has potential for making me have really bad feelings.

And that's where I'm at now.  I'm concerned.  I'm concerned that I'm going to wrap my fat stomach in twelve layers and brave the cold only to be kicked in the teeth by Baker "oh look at me, I used to be a walk-on but now I'm great and a good dancer" Mayfield.  Blast!  But I'm going to go.  And I'm going to hope that that pact with the devil has a Bedlam clause.  And if we do lose?  I will just pretend we didn't.  It's how I deal with bad things.  I choose to behave as if they didn't happen.  I Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind the hell out of painful losses.  Been doing it for years, and it's worked out just fine.

If you need me, just look for this girl.  Also, I'll probably need some help up.

         

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  And Go Pokes!

Get Frank Underwood on the phone, the fix is in

How about a little Q & A session, a little "Get to Know this Blogger," a little multiple personality interview with myself?  Funsies for everyone, am I right?

Let's get started.

Q: You seem a little agitated, what's got you worked up?

A: Texas.

Q: The whole state?

A: No.  Just their dumb football fans.  Lord almighty, if I see any more complaints about the officiating of Saturday's game, I just might lose it.

Q: Care to expand?

A: I'd love to.  Thanks for asking.  They are all kinds of worked up because calls didn't go their way on Saturday.  And I'll be the first to admit, several were questionable, if not blatantly wrong.  But guess what?  That's not called a conspiracy or "a fix."  That's called sports. Bad calls are made in EVERY game.  It happens.  Shall I put together a highlight reel of all of the times OSU has been the victim of bad calls?  I would do that, but it would make me even more annoyed than I already am.

And I'm going to just dole out some hard-to-swallow news....when you are reduced to celebrating moral victories and blaming officials for losses, you are now the fan of a mediocre program.  I should know.  I'm an OSU fan.  So suck it up, will ya?

Q: Shall we move on?

A: Fine.  But for reals, I'm beyond annoyed by their outrage.  Dumb City, USA.  Population: Longhorn Nation.

Q: What about the teams you actually cheer for?  How have they fared so far?

A: Meh.  Somehow the Cowboys are undefeated.  I suffer from heart palpitations watching them play.  I find myself holding my breath for long periods of time, which in turn, makes me dizzy.  The ol' quarterback switcheroo game we played versus Texas seemed pretty dumb to me, but no one pays me to coach, so maybe it was genius and I'm just not at that level of understanding.

The Sundevils....well, sometimes they are hard to watch.  Do you remember those Faces of Death movies?  That's kind of what Saturday night felt like.  Like a punishment that I didn't deserve.  So... here's to hoping I've atoned for whatever horrible thing I've done in my former life and we can move on to happy football.  Husband is struggling too.  Seeing as the Sundevils play in the middle of the night because the desert is hot and everyone would spontaneously combust if they played when the sun was out, he can't even yell.  Because Tiny Human sleeps while ASU plays football.  Ergo silent rage.  On Saturday as we watched them turn the ball over on the goal line for a 96 yard return for a touchdown, he stood up and said, "I need to be by myself."  Hashtag sigh.  Hashtag pray for Husband.  Prayer hands emoji.

Q: Yikes.  Sounds pretty bad around your house.

A: Preach.

Q: Next topic.  Watch anything good on TV lately?

A: Well, I decided to join the new craze of Netflix.

Q: Seems like you might be a little late to the party.

A: I'm a laggard.  It's a marketing term.  Look it up.

Q: I'll get right on that.

A: Anywhoozle, I just finished watching all the House of Cards episodes.

Q: Oh yeah?  What did you think?

A: The show makes me feel extremely unsettled.  I've come to realize there isn't one character on the show I like.  They are all bad people.  All of them.  At first I was all, Frank Underwood, he's ruthless, but underneath he's a good guy.  Couldn't have been more wrong.  Oh, Doug Stamper?  Good guy.  Hard worker.  Nope.  Bad guy.  Hard worker.  Everyone is bad.  Everyone who has redeemable qualities dies.

Q: You know it's just a show right?

A: Is it?  Then explain John Boehner to me.

Q: Do you have anything happy to talk about?

A: I do.  My dog has stopped barfing on the carpet, so I'm pretty jazzed about that turn of events. The super blood moon did not disappoint.  And tonight I'm building a rocket ship with Tiny Human.

Q:  A rocket ship?

A: Yes.  We had a conversation about not wanting to go home, instead we were going to go to the moon.  I noted that that trip would require a rocket ship.  And so...we are building one tonight.  I assume this counts as STEM education.

Q:  I'm not quite sure that qualifies....

A: Honestly, no one asked you.

If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter

I had a pretty hard time deciding which picture to use for this blog. I ultimately chose the picture that accurately portrayed my feelings last year during football season.  The picture below came in a close second.  Because I think it is so funny.

So, moving on to the important stuff....it's football season, party people!  And per my usual routine, I'm going to throw up some hopes and prayers and believe that universe will hear me. *prayer hands emoji*

1. No streaks.  Losing streaks that is.  Let's have a quick recap of how crappy that 5-game skid was last year.  It was honestly painful.  Side note, I'm trying very hard to not use the word "literally."  I'm at the point of murderous rage when I see people misuse literally.  I saw someone write the phrase, "my hands are literally tied" the other day. No, no they aren't.  Because you just typed that stupid sentence.  And you couldn't do that if your hands were tied.  But I digress.

So anyway, last season literally almost killed me.  So let's win more than we lose.  And let's pass the ball.  And get first downs.  Small things.  Go team!

2.   Offensive creativity.  Please see #1 on this list.  Um, the whole, running it up the middle for a gain  of 1.5 wasn't working last year.  It was poo.  You know what did work?  Fat guy touchdowns, ala James Castleman.  Trick plays.  Throwing it down the field.  More of that.

3. I ask every year, and every year no one answers, but I'd like an intro video that is awesome.  And not crappy.  Did I ever tell you guys that one of the best intros I've ever seen was a random UCONN pre-game video.  UCONN.  Did you even know they played football?  Unfortunately, I know that the best play of last year won't be shown.  The punt return that restored my faith in humankind is never to be talked about again due to bad decisions, arrests, and dismissals.  That's fine.  But let me tell you this, when I die and someone puts together a highlight video of my life, Tyreek Hill running that ball back will be included.  Childhood pictures, my wedding day, holding my sweet Tiny Human, The Punt.

So since we can't show that, I've got some ideas:

• Fat guy touchdowns.  Especially the one when Castleman slams into the defensive player and paint flies from his helmet.  
• Any scoring from last year.  It didn't happen a lot, so it should be celebrated.
• Remember when there was video of Dez Bryant racing a horse?  Throw that in for good measure too.

4. I want to win Bedlam again.  It's a simple wish.  It felt so good last year.  I carried the sports page around in my purse for two weeks following that game.  I want to feel that happy again.  Please and thank you.

5. Switching allegiances, I want this to be ASU's year.  It all sets up to be a special season.  Smokin' hot quarterback.  Favorable schedule. Veteran defensive squad.  Usually-wrong Kirk Herbstreit picked them to go to the playoff.  Maybe this will be the time he's not wrong.  Maybe?

Just win.  I want to see the Sundevils as the best in the west.

So it's pretty simple.  Easy, peasy, Japanesey.

Go Pokes!  Go Sundevils!  Go Fantasy Football Teams!

Farfegnugen and stuff

I went to Germany.  And I want to tell you about it. So I figured I'd dust off the ol' typewriter and fire this sad little blog up again.  Besides it's almost football season, and that means Angry Irrational Kath is just waiting to be unleashed.  SET HER FREE!

So I went to Dresden and Berlin.  I saw lots of stuff.  And increased a bunch of the knowledge in my noggin.  Here's what I learned.

1. Whoever was in charge of teaching me about WWII failed.  Frick.  There is a LOT I didn't know.  I said approximately 80 times, "I did not know that!  Did you know that??" And most people said yes.  Color me, embarrassed.  So upon my return to America, I said to Husband, "Teach me everything I need to know about WWII.  All of it."   Him: "Uh, like what do you want to know?"  Me: "Everything.  Let's start with WWI and go from there.   I need to know everything from WWI to the Berlin Wall.  Teach me!"  And now, I'm basically a history genius y'all.  Fire off your questions, I have all of the answers.

2. Jean shorts are very big in Germany.  Many a man sported jean shorts.  And not at all ironically. Europe is fashion forward, right?  So you guys can basically expect to be jorting around very soon.  Fire up.

3. Germans are very big on the f-word.  They use it a lot.  More than I do....which is saying something.  It's like their sexy way of rebelling against the man.  Lots of graffiti featuring the f word.  F the cops.  F the system.  F it.  It was everywhere.

They also seem to be big on American phrases on t-shirts and the Bronx.  I think it is strange to be obsessed with the Bronx, but whatever.  You do you, Germany.    I passed a kid who had a shirt that read, "High all the time," and I laughed and wondered if I was the only person who could read it.  I also saw a girl who had a tattoo that read, in English, life without living is like death without dying, or something like that.  I wonder if English to Germans is like Chinese symbol tattoos to Americans.  In that case, disregard my fashion forward remark.  They are moving backwards in time...which is not necessarily a good thing for Germans, if you know what I mean.

4. There is a real strong commitment to potatoes in Saxony.  We had a "traditional German dinner" one night and honest to God, there were nine versions of potatoes.  I ate them all. Because I love potatoes very much.  Then they served dessert, and wouldn't you know, it was a potato creation too.  And it was delicious!  It was like Iron Chef: Potato!

We visited the palace of Frederick the Great in Potsdam.  On his grave, visitors left potatoes.  And the most odd thing about it, is that that wasn't the first thing addressed by our guide.  She's all, 'here's his  legacy," and all I'm wondering is, "Why the hell are there 45 potatoes on his grave?" Apparently he was a big proponent of potatoes.  Alright then.  Using that logic, my grave will be covered in salt.  Viva la sodium!

5. The German language kind of always sounds like yelling.  I attempted communicating with a woman while trying to purchase some souvenirs.  I held up three fingers indicating that is how many I wanted.  She brought out four.  Me: No.  Just three (holds up three fingers).  Her: Flugen herten blergen shlur!!  Me: No!  THREE!  Her: GERMAN YELLING!  My mom said, "We'll just buy the fourth one it's okay."  Me: No way!  She can't just bully us into buying more.  My fingers make it very clear how many I want."  We got three.  I think that lady was very angry.  Or maybe she wasn't.  I will never know.

It was a great trip.  I think Berlin is fabulous and could have spent at least another week there exploring.  The art.  The museums.  The shopping.  It is a truly global city that I would rank right up there near the top.  It's incredible how far it has come since the war.  And I will say they very much embrace their tumultuous past, no running from the horrors of the war.  I give Berlin two thumbs and a sack of potatoes way up.

Prost!

Well, that was awkward

My life is basically just a series of awkward moments being held together by OSU sporting events.  I just kind of stumble through life, wondering where the emergency exit is in every situation.  Like when Tiny Human yells, "That's a big man!" as a stranger walks by.  I just smile nervously and hope the big man is deaf too.

Or when Husband starts to tell stories that are supposed to be kept in the vault.  I pantomime the throat slitting motion in an attempt to make the story end.  And when it doesn't, I blurt out something unrelated.  I'm sure no one notices.

But today, I had a first as far as awkward moments go.  I ran into someone who unfriended me on Facebook.  Recently, I was talking with my real friends about being "friends" with people on the Book who you aren't actually friends with in real life.  And if, when you see them in public, either you or they won't say hello, maybe you should unfriend.  I never have this problem.  My 667 (thank you to my latest friend addition for getting me over the mark of the devil) friends are all my besties.  We are all super close, and I think we all know that.  I gave you a like just the other day.  This bond cannot be broken.

But from time to time, you lose one for one reason or another.  We'll call this one Stan.

I'm not even sure when Stan stopped being my online friend.  I can remember when I discovered it, though.  I got a message from another friend that said something to the effect, "Yo!  Have you seen those pictures of Stan??"  Seeing as I love being a voyeur, I clicked on over to Stan's page.  Alas...Stan and I had broken up.  And I never even got to say goodbye.

It's hard to pinpoint when we started to grow apart.  Maybe it's the fact that we haven't actually spoken in 18 years.  Or maybe he hates fun.  Who knows.  But this is America and Stan has that choice.  It's the wrong one, but nobody's perfect.

So I saunter into the gym at lunch and who do I see but Stan.  Crap.  Frickin' left-me-when-I-should-have-left-him-first Stan.  I didn't really know what to do.  As Tiny Human asks (45 times a day), which path do I take?  I could just be nice, say hello and rise above the fray.

Instead, I slapped him on the back and said, "Hey Stan.  I never liked you that much anyway."  And then I walked away smiling.

I didn't do that, but wouldn't that have been an amazing thing to do?!  I really, really wanted to.

Instead, I chose the mature path.  I pretended like I didn't see him.  Maybe he didn't notice me as we looked directly at each other and my eyes got very wide. Maybe people run away from him in awkward fear all the time.

But you know what they say, like a goldfish, you gotta just keep movin'.  (No one says that. This is awkward).

Hangin' Tough: Kathy's Koncert Review

I did a little traveling this week.  Traveled right back to the early 1990s.  A really magical time in my life.  Awkward clothes, braces, bad/frizzy hair.  The 90s are when I developed my amazing personality, because no one was going to love me for my appearance.

So I hopped in my mom's Aerostar and went back in time to a concert featuring TLC and New Kids on the Block.  Nelly was supposed to be there, but he bailed.  Like a chump.  But the other two acts showed up and put on quite a show.  Here is my review of both.  Enjoy.

TLC

I was curious how a trio performs a concert with just two, but they didn't miss a beat.  My favorite part of the performance was when they took the stage and my friend asked me, "Wait.  I thought there were three of them."  She apparently had not heard the breaking news that Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes had died 13 years ago.

Oddly enough, the music and songs didn't really seem to be missing anything, which makes me question if Left Eye was actually that integral to their success.  Minus her rap solo in Waterfalls, I'm pretty sure all she added to the group was baggy pants, a condom over her eye, and that crazy factor every team needs.

NKOTB

OMG y'all.  Here's a secret, this is the first boy band I've ever seen in concert.  I didn't even see any when I was an irrational teenager.  I waited until I reach full emotional maturity, which just happened to be Monday.

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but their music is not as good as I had remembered.  It's possible that my tastes have changed, but it's also possible that Jordan Knight can't hit those high notes like he used to.

When I was a kid, I never understood why there was any debate who was the best looking one.  It's Joey.  And anyone who didn't think so was either a) dumb b) just trying to be different or c) dumb.  Joe (his grown-up name) is still the hottest.  Kudos to you, young man.  However, if I were to be forced to hang out with a New Kid in modern time, I would pick Donnie.  He seems the most relatable to me.  We could drink beers and talk about basketball and Boondock Saints (I just have a feeling he likes that movie too) and why his stupid brother was such a jerk to me when I met him in Vegas in 2004.  It would be swell.

Then of course there are the other two, the brother and the guy with the arms.  A friend asked me if I knew how old Danny Wood was, to which I responded, "Who?" Obviously, he never made much of an impression on me.   I was, however, pleasantly surprised to see that he has been lifting all the weights since the 90s.  So. Many.  Muscles.

Here's the real kicker of the night though, the last third of the show was quite provocative.  So many pelvic thrusts.  I was a little confused, as I had fond memories of bubble gum poppy music from five cute faces (really only 2 cute faces, who am I kidding).  But NKOTB has evolved into something new.  Something that humps the air.  And the stage.  And I don't know, I just don't think I was prepared for it.  I'm not saying I didn't like it, I'm just saying, I didn't see it coming.

It was a super fun night with college friends and show choir dance moves.   I heard ridiculous questions such as, "Did Left Eye actually only have one eye?  No?  Then why the eye patch?"  When you delve into the complex questions, you know it was a good time.  I'd go so far to say it had all the Right Stuff.

I'm sorry.  I had to.

Sports Shorts

I bet you thought I wouldn't write about sports for a while, because none of MY teams are playing at the moment.  And what does Kathy actually know about sports in general?  You doubted me, and that is fair.  Wrong, but fair.

I like to keep my sports knowledge at just a high enough level that I come across smarter than I actually am.  This is actually my entire philosophy in life.  Buzz words.  Jargon.  Fake it till you make it.

I apply this philosophy to sports like golf.  I'm a fringe golf fan.  And by fringe, I mean, I don't really follow it.  I enjoy watching it live, ala the Phoenix Open.  But that was more about people watching and heckling.  Sidenote: I love to heckle.  In all honesty, I cheer for a select few on the PGA tour: guys who played at OSU and Bubba Watson.  And that's about it.

As you might of heard, the highly reliable publication Sports Illustrated released an anonymous poll last week of the most overrated players on the tour, as voted on by the players themselves.  And Rickie Fowler found himself atop the results.  Hunter Mahan garnered quite a few votes himself.  Obviously, none of the voters have seen the Golf Boys video.  Or maybe they had and had sad feelings that they weren't part of the club.  Or maybe they didn't really poll players, they just polled Thayer Evans and he voted for OSU guys...it's hard to know the rationale, really.

So Rickie Orange Pants punched back and won in very impressive style at the Players Championship.  A tip of the flat bill to you, my friend (we're not friends, I totally wish we were though).  Take that, ya anonymous jerks.   Maybe next time when asked to participate in a catty popularity poll, you'll think twice.  Don't pick on my Pokes, Pistol Pete might just shoot you.  (This blog does not condone gun violence.  Hug more, shoot less).

It's also important to note that his smokin' hot girlfriend who had Twitter all abuzz is a Sundevil. Like me.  And by pointing that out, I just pulled a total Vanderbilt.  You know how all the SEC schools like to talk about how the SEC is so dominant, and you're all, "But you're Vanderbilt.  You aren't really good at anything.  You're the Northwestern of the SEC.  You're only here for your brains."  I'm kind of like that with ASU.  They have quite the reputation for attractive students.  And sure, I went there for my graduate degree, and was a member of  the graduate and professional students association, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT.  I earned my degree just like all of those freakishly good looking people did, ergo we are the same.  Rickie Fowler's girlfriend and Kathy: Sundevils.

A few other sports-related items for your reading pleasure:

.......kudos to the NBA for going all March Madness on us.  I'm an so down for buzzer beaters.  If you guys start storming the court, I'm totally in.........I watched the 30 for 30  on the Detroit Pistons last week.  I made the decision while watching that Bill Laimbeer may be my most favorite NBA player of all time.  I'm pretty sure he represents every thing I believe.  Let's face it, sometimes you just have to throw a hard elbow to the face to get your point across (It is becoming more unclear if I might actually condone violence after all)..........I signed up to take the Sports Jeopardy test next week. I do things like this to ensure humility.  Because no matter how much you think you know, any time I've taken a test like this, I've left thinking, "How would anyone know the answer to that?"  But if they happen to only ask questions about Oklahoma State, Kevin Durant, or the BIG 8/BIG XII, I should knock this sucker out of the park.  I'm also very good at sports jargon, I aced that test in my 8th grade journalism class.  I predict this will go very, very well.

I learned it on the Internet

How many times in your life do you get the chance to see a stranger out in public with a tropical bird on their shoulder?  If your answer is twice, then you and I have something in common.  Yesterday, as I drove back to the office from lunch, I watched a lady walk down the sidewalk downtown with a three-foot blue tropical bird perched on her shoulder.  It sqauwked and did that head-bob thing that birds do as people walked past.  And I thought, "Hmmm, this doesn't seem normal."  Then I remembered the time I was driving in Scottsdale with Husband only to look over to the 1978 beater that was driving next to us to see a tropical bird sitting the driver's shoulder.

"Look!" I shouted.  "That guy has a tropical bird on his shoulder!  While he's driving!  Crazy!"  Husband shrugged.  "Ummm, a shrug isn't the appropriate response to this situation."  He nonchalantly said, "Meh.  It's Arizona."  Two things to take away from this experience: 1. Nonchalant could be his middle name.  Husband Nonchalant LastName.  To someone who has overreactions to almost every situation, this borders on maddening.  2. IN NO SITUATION IS HAVING A TROPICAL BIRD ON YOUR SHOULDER NORMAL.  Unless you work at the zoo.

Then again, maybe this is my normal.   I turned to my ol' friend Google to try  figure out what kind of avian wonder I saw yesterday.  My search engine savior didn't provide me with any definitive answers, which was surprising, seeing as the internet taught me a lot this week.  Here are the things I learned, and because I believe in life-long-learning, I'm now paying the knowledge forward to you.

1. There's an app for that.  So I have a friend who is as entertained and fascinated by dumb stuff as I am.  I'm thankful for her for many reasons, but my most favorite thing about her is that I know that at any time, I can screenshot/text/or message her the dumbest, most fascinating, confusing thing I've seen that day and she will always appreciate it.  I keep her around because she validates the thoughts in my head.

Anyway, this is a two-way relationship and she shared with me yesterday that she had discovered the existence of eating disorder promoters on Twitter.  Obviously, I had to check it out for myself because I'm a voyeur and I enjoy watching crazy behavior more than anything in the world.

So to quickly summarize. there are these very thin girls who have insane handles like @ratherdiethaneat and @hungryallthetime (I made those up, but they are in the same crazy ballpark) whose whole presence on Twitter is to talk about how they don't like to eat, want bigger thigh-gaps, are searching for #thinspiration and eat squash for breakfast because it's only 15 calories (who eats squash for breakfast??)  And they tweet each other to show support for pushing through the hunger.

And then I started looking at their pictures, because I was already in this deep.  I couldn't stop.

As disturbing as everything I saw was, the most fascinating thing I saw was a picture of an app that helps you track how long you've been fasting.  Down to the minute.  One girl was disappointed in herself for not making it past 3 days and 2 hours of fasting.  I learned this as I was shoving yogurt-covered pretzels in  my mouth.  You know what kind of app I need?  A snack app.  It can tell me  the time between my third and fourth snack of the day and when it's time to eat M&Ms.  Just kidding!  You don't need an app for that.  It's always time to eat M&Ms.

2. Thank you, Mississippi.  I had the pleasure of watching a clip of a young woman being interviewed on the local news in Mississippi.  I don't know the town.  It's not relevant to the story.  She was witness to a shooting and was being interviewed by a local reporter about what she saw.

In the middle of the hard-hitting journalism going on, the girl announced that she had to pee.  And then...she peed her pants.  On live television.  I mean...I know it's sweeps week, but this seems extreme.   My first reaction was, "Oh dear...."  followed quickly by, "Well, at least she's not from Oklahoma."  Thinking about this clilp makes me feel a mix of emotions.  Why didn't she just end the interview early?  Why, after peeing her pants, did she announce to the reporter, "I just peed my pants"?  Why not just hope for good editing?  Why are live interviews on the news still a thing?  Is Sweet Brown to blame?

3. The end is nigh.  And finally I got confirmation that the end is near.  Get right with God, get to work on your bucket list, and get your finances in order.  Because it's all coming to an end soon.  How do I know this?  Because the Kylie Jenner lip challenge is a thing and that volcano eruption in Chile.  Both of these things have me concerned about the future.  The Kylie Jenner thing is self-explanatory.  You shouldn't be trying to suck your face off.  That's a dumb thing to do.  The volcano struck fear in me because....well, it appears that God/Thor/Zeus played a role in it.  And you know when lightening wraps around volcanic ash and the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man is no where to be found...it's time to take shelter.

Obviously, thanks to the interwebs, I'm way smarter today than I was on Monday.  I'm off to search for that snack app and like-minded people who are equal parts disgusted and obsessed with all of the dumb on the internet.  And when I find those people, we'll start our own Twitter army and some girl in Mississippi will write a blog that says something to the effect of, "thank God, I'm not as crazy as Kathy in Oklahoma."  #pipedreams 

Mail bag

Sometimes I get writers block and the way I deal with it is writing dumb things or going dormant.  Like a volcano.  Or a cold sore.  Gross.  I'm disgusted with my sense of humor today.  Anyway, I thought I'd shake things up a little and try something new.  I'm always getting emails* and messages from readers, so I thought I'd open up the ol' mail bag and just answer your questions.  And away we go!

Hey Kathy,

Since the Thunder aren't in the playoffs, how closely are you paying attention?  Who you cheering for?

Vance, San Diego


I'm aware that the playoffs are going on.  That is the amount of effort I'm putting into the NBA playoffs.  I'm giving about 12% effort this year.  And that might be a little high.  I'm "rooting" for teams that sport guys from my alma maters: Memphis, Brooklyn, Boston, and Houston.  And by rooting, I mean if you put a gun to my head and asked who do you want to win, those would be my answers.  More importantly, why do you have a gun to my head?  It's just sports.  Relax.  Also, I always cheer against San Antonio and Blake Griffin.

Dear Kathy,

Lots of candidates are officially announcing their run for the 2016 presidency.  Who ya got and why?

LoDen, OKC

I saw that Waka Flocka Flame is running, and that piqued my interest.  He's running on a platform of legalizing weed and not allowing dogs in restaurants, and frankly I admire his courage of addressing the hot-button issues.  What I'm most excited about is reading the political opinions of all 600 + of my facebook friends.  It's really the best part of election season.  I often wake up and wonder, "How should I feel about this issue?  Let me consult the 'book and see what the people are saying."  I'm especially swayed when people use lots of exclamation points and phrases like "Wake Up America!"

Hey Kath,

You caught up on Scandal yet?  Also, who is Charles?

G-Money, Rosewood

Not yet.  Just started Season 4.  Someone should have warned me about Harrison.  Lots of feelings about that.  In a surprising twist, people continue to get murdered.  I can only assume by the end of this season the only thing left will be a bottle of wine and Quinn.    Also, I don't want to answer questions about Pretty Little Liars. I'm mature and a grown up and  focused on important topics like Waka Flocka's stance on equal pay.  But since you asked, I'm sticking with my theory that Charles is Dan Humphrey.  XOXO.

Kathy,

I'm expecting my first child next month.  Any parenting advice?

FF, Texas

Nope.  Parenting is hard.  I don't know what I'm doing 90% of the time. I'm positive Tiny Human loves the Bubble Guppies more than me.  But she's cute and she's clean and she tells her teacher that her mommy is clever, so I'm doing something right.    She also hummed Ride 'Em Cowboys the other day unprovoked, which caused my heart to grow three sizes.  So I take it back, here is my advice: when they are screaming in your face, sing OSU fight songs and the alma mater.  Not only are you showing school spirit in the face of adversity, you are also brainwashing them.  WAKE UP AMERICA!

And that will do it for today's mail bag!  See you guys next Wednesday for more Q&A.

*Editor's note: none of these were real questions.  I made them all up.  But if you have questions you want me to answer, send 'em my way.  I'll answer, I promise.  Just don't be gross, let's try to keep this at a junior high level of decency.

It's handled

I have an unhealthy obsession with crime.  True crime.  TV crime.  I love it all.  And by love, I mean am fascinated by it.  If I actually loved crime, I'm pretty sure that would make me a criminal.  And we all know that I'm a model citizen.  Amen.

I saw a promo for Dateline yesterday about a woman who solved a crime by applying the things she had learned by watching Dateline.  HELLO!  Can you say, "Kathy's dream come true"?  You end up featured on a show about solving crimes because you watched the show about solving crimes.  A true thing of beauty.  I'm so good at evaluating crime from a distance and coming to rock-solid conclusions all on my own.  And the thing is, I'm self-taught!  No formal training.  I'm  basically a savant.

The level of intensity at  which I followed the Aaron Hernandez trial was....well, it wasn't normal.  I'm not a Patriots fan.  I've never been to Boston.  But that didn't stop me from following some random Fox reporter from Boston and his live coverage via Twitter.  Every day, I closely watched what was going on 140 characters at a time.  At least once a week, I'd give Husband an update on the haps in the courtroom.  He needed those updates, because he's a rational person who doesn't follow court cases unrelated to him via social media.  Whatever.  It takes all kinds.

So yesterday when it was announced that a verdict had been reached, I was actually anxious.  I honestly don't know what is wrong with me.  Judge Garsh addressed the jury after they delivered their guilty verdict and thanked them for their time and for serving. She said, "I understand it is not easy to sit in judgment of a fellow human being."  And I thought, "Hmph.  I don't think that's true.  I find it very easy.  Second nature, actually."

So now the trial is over and I have to move on.  Must fill the void.  Find some crime somewhere else and come up with theories of what went wrong in this person's life to lead them down this dark path.  Maybe I'll turn my attention to Lawrence Phillips....that guy's got lots of material to study up on.

Or maybe I could just focus on Scandal.  Fake crime.  Or is it?  I just started watching Scandal a month ago.  And yes, I'm aware that makes me three years late to the party.  I'm not concerned with your time frames, I do things on my own clock.  My clock is always slow.

So I'm binge-watching.  Pope & Associates for hours.  And this show....  It's just maybe too intense.  I have a very high level of stress while watching it, plagued constantly with the reoccurring question of, "Why can't any of these people make better decisions?!"  I think we all knew Fitz couldn't be trusted after he killed Patrick Swayze in Ghost, but damned if Olivia can't make good decisions to save her life.  This show is like Pretty Little Liars but set in D.C.  Too many crimes!  Too much murder!

Am I naive in my belief that there shouldn't be this much murder going on in such a small circle of well-dressed people? And don't even get me started on what this show has done to my outlook on political marriages.  I'm starting to think this show is affecting my life, and I'm guessing that's not a good thing.

The moral of the story is that I either need get a grip or start working on my online criminal justice degree.  It can be mine is just 12 short months.

Letters: Basketball Edition

Dear Travis Ford,

How are ya pal?  You feel good?  Did you wake up this morning feeling like a winner?  Did you put a game plan together that's opposite of what you did the first two times we played OU this season?  Swell.  Let's go out and win one for ol' Kath tonight, alright?  I've had a rough go as of late.  I'm dealing with a bully on a pretty regular basis, someone stole my wooden Pistol Pete out of my front yard, and I STILL haven't won the lottery....I need you to win tonight.  It is a scientific fact that I am happier and my body reacts in a positive way to beating OU.  It's true.  I have a note from my doctor.  What does your body produce when you're happy?  Serotonin?  Melatonin? Whatever it is, it will come pouring out my ears if we can beat the Sooners.  So do it for my health.  Do it for America.

Go Pokes,

Kathy

---

Dear Ryan Spangler,

I don't like you.  You remind me of a guy who drives a monster truck, blares Skynard, and revs your engine when I'm next to you at a light.  And I bet that monster truck has glass packs, so you are super loud as you drive too fast through the neighborhood.  But it's not just that...it's the Euro-step I just can't stand.  Let me fill you in on something, you ain't Manu Ginobili.  That's called a travel.  I know so, because I yell it every time you do it.  Thank goodness you're a senior.  

What's that?  You're just a junior?  Frick.

That's a walk!

KHR

---

Dear Big XII Refs,

It's hard for us to win when the other team is in the bonus five minutes in.  So maybe you guys could do less tweet tweeting, and more "nothing to see here."  And in case you are having a hard time deciding, "Did LeBryan Nash get fouled in the paint?"  The answer is always yes.  Always.

XOXO,

Kath

Go Pokes!  Beat OU!

I love you, I mean it

Time is of the essence people, so let's just get to the good stuff.  I've missed you, I hope you're well, let's grab a drink soon to catch up.  Until then, here are a few love letters from me to the world and the things I love.

Dear OSU Basketball:

Smooches!  I love what you are doing right now.  That KU win...it was pretty darn great.  I know when I am yelling so loud and for so long that I get light-headed, things in the sports world are going well for me.  Thank you for playing hard and hustling for loose balls and showing that you want to win as much as I want you to win.  It's really all I've ever asked for.  And thank you to KU basketball fans for being so irrational. You give me a good giggle.  Relax just a little and stop being so bitter.  Yes, you are elite.  No, I don't care.  I only care how elite you are when my team beats your elite team.  You guys should stop and have a chat with OU football fans....you all have a lot in common.

Back to the Pokes, keep up the fight, guys.  And just a reminder, I never stopped coming.  I wasn't fair-weather.  I've been suffering along with you the last few years.  So you just let me know where you want me to stand on stage when we exceed expectations and win a Big XII title.  

Orange you glad you started rebounding?

Kathy

Dear Tiny Human,

Thanks for reminding me that girls rule and being a feminist starts young.  Yesterday when you asked, "What does the doctor do?" And I answered, "He makes you feel better," I was pleased, proud and a little embarrassed that you then pointed out, "The doctor is a girl!"  Of course she is!  Girls Power!

Sing it Sister!

Mommy

Dear Daycare,

Thanks for the reminder that everyone has to bring Valentines to school.  I didn't know that rule last year and logically thought, "they are one year old, why would they need Valentines?  They can't read, and only have two teeth each."  Much to my chagrin I was the only mom who didn't provide Valentines. One mom even brought them late because her kid was out sick on party day.  Color me embarrassed.  My bad, babies.  This year, you will be so happy to see my store-bought, extremely impersonal Valentines!  You are SO welcome.

Look, I'm raising a feminist if you didn't hear, so you guys just let me know what day during reading week I can guest read The Feminist Mystique.

Sorry I'm not good at making things,

Tiny Human's Mom

Dear ASU Baseball,

You kick off the season versus the Cowboys tonight.  I have a very fond spot in my heart for you.  I spent many an afternoon sweating out all the toxins watching you all play.  I heckled.  I cheered.  I was a proud Sun Devil baseball season ticket holder.  It feels weird to root against you.

But not so weird that I'm not going to do it.  Go Pokes, the road to Omaha starts tonight.

Fork 'em every game but these three,

KHR

Letters: we can't all be winners, can we?

It's time to open up the stationary kit and write a few letters.  Join along if you'd like.

Dear OSU Basketball team,

I see you.  I see what you are doing with your big home-court wins.  And I like it.  I like that when I choose to make that commute to come watch you play, knowing I'll get home late on a school night, you give a lot of effort.  Sure, you couldn't win a scrimmage against elderly people on the road, but I do appreciate you winning at home.  I also appreciate rebounding.  And following the shot.

Please don't lose to OU again.  

Orange hugs and kisses, 

Kathy
--

Dear Zombie Cat,

I think I'm supposed to be in awe of your story.  But really, I'm weirded out.  It's weird that you were dead and now you aren't.  One of my greatest fears in life is when nature attacks.  I saw the movie Pet Cemetery.  I didn't like it.  I don't trust your motives.

Keeping one eye open,

Kath
---
Dear Empire,

Thank you for being exactly what I thought you would be.  You are what has been missing in my life.  A hip-hop soap opera?  Yes, please!  The music is great.  And I've had a soft spot for Terrence Howard since Hustle & Flow.  You know you're a good actor when I have deep sympathy for a pimp.  Like they say, it's hard out here for a pimp.  Seriously, they said that, I'm not even paraphrasing.    I guess some people have been critical of this show, and those people are dumb and clearly do not have their finger on the pulse of hip hop culture like I do.

You do you,

K-Dogg
--

Dear Life,

Alright already.  Enough.  Some idiot somewhere once said, "you are only given what you can handle."  And that dumb advice is often given to people who are going through a really hard time.  And I guess, if that person hasn't completely lost it, this advice is kinda true.  For example, Zombie Cat seemed to be only given what he could handle.  And that included dying, but not really, being buried alive, and scratching and clawing his way out of the grave five days later.  But you know what they say, that which does not kill you only makes you stronger.  And since Zombie Cat did actually die, I think he is the strongest cat to ever exist.

Anyway, I'm about one more piece of bad news away from moving into a cardboard box and playing the drums on an empty bucket.  I need you, life, to take a sharp right turn and let's leave this doo doo behind.  Also, when I'm having a bad day, how about we refrain from sending possoms to run infront of my car.  Not cool, life.  Not cool at all.  I'm having a hard time reacting to things in a rational manner, so when the spawn of Satan scurried in my path last night, I yelled to the heavens, "Oh come on!  This is the last thing I need right now!'  I can only assume that possum had just emerged from the grave and was heading to my house.

Pull yourself together,

KHR

Throwing it back to the good ol' days...

On this Throwback Thursday, I'd like to throw it back to the days before kiss cam, or the Glory Days as I liked to call them.  Remember when scoreboards just had an animated man, who looked like a potato with arms, waving flags?  I liked those times, they were so much more simple.

There is something about where our basketball seats are located at the Oklahoma State games that has placed me directly in the cross-hairs of the kiss cam.  Every time T-Pain comes on, I know my mug is going to appear on the jumbotron.  I have appeared on the kiss cam five times.  And I'm sure you are thinking, "Five?  That's not that much."  Well, first of all if you think that, you're a jerk and you are not only wrong, you are clearly not picking up the gravity of the situation.

After four straight appearances within two weeks, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I would instruct Husband to either A.) act like he didn't know me B.) stand up  or C). Go to the concession stand. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't love Husband.  But I don't like kissing on command. In public.  On a giant screen.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I also don't really like to hold hands.  It slows down my fast walking.

Anyway, from time to time when Husband can't make it to a game, I will sit by my brother and we both yell, "Rebound!" in unison and all is well.  So as you can imagine, the situation I was most concerned about was being caught with him on the kiss cam.  I remember one game in particular, I turned to him and said, "Please stop talking to me and go away."
Brother:  Ummm....why?
Kathy: Because I do not want to be on the kiss cam with you.
Brother: Fair enough.

We really had avoiding it down to an artform.  I made sure that one of us was either standing or not present during the first media timeout.  Until last night.  We let our guard down.  And you know what happens when you let your guard down?  You get stuck on kiss cam with your sibling.

I was busy checking twitter to see what people were saying about the game, so I didn't realize we were the main attraction until I heard my brother say, "Nope."  Then he stood up and ran away.  Yes, he ran right up the stairs as fast as he could move. I've never been more proud.

As he moved with cheetah-like speed up the stairs, the camera followed him the entire way.  The crowd got a good laugh out of it.  And then some began to boo.  Yes, this is how I spent my family time on Wednesday night, listening to the crowd boo my brother because he wouldn't mouth kiss me.  This is the world I live in.

As far as a quick game analysis, I felt pretty good about last night's performance.  Mainly because we won.  Tech is terrible, so that should build anyone's confidence.  Had productive minutes from guys other than the main two, shot better, blah, blah, blah.   I still believe Anthony Allen is the key.  If he can contribute quality minutes where he is pulling down boards and, I don't know, making 2-3 shots a game, it will make a tremendous difference.  I think he has so much potential but doesn't really seem to know what he's doing.  Which is basically how I feel every day I get out of bed.  I think that's why I like him....and his dreadlocks.

Catching up

Let's be honest, I've started this blog about eight different times in the last two weeks and for one reason or another I don't finish.  Whatever the opposite of "focused" is, that's me these days.  Scattered? Schizo? Lacking direction?  D. All of the above.  So for the sake of fun, I'll take you through the last few weeks and highlights.  And then starting next week, maybe I'll manage to put thoughts together in a reasonable manner. Deal?  Deal.

1. I'll have what Russell's having.  I have found myself eating at the same establishment as Russell Westbrook twice in the last six months. By proxy, I'm pretty sure this means I'm awesome.  I'm hip and cool and with it.  I've yet to work up the courage to speak to him, mainly because I've heard he's not that nice.  Forty four years ago I ran into Marky Mark in Vegas and asked for a picture.  He said, "I don't really think so."  To which I responded, "You don't think so?  Seriously?  That's your response?"  As you can see, I've yet to get over being scorned by someone much more famous than myself.  Later that night I met Michael Irvin.  Way nicer.  Which is why I watch NFL Countdown and not Wahlburgers.  I will never forget.
2. Bedlam baby.  Every time I think I'm ready to analyze this OSU basketball team, they throw another wrinkle in.  Saturday is Bedlam round 1.  I refuse to fall for the, "OU is struggling to find an identity and is regressing" story line.  Because every time I do, every single time, they come out and beat the pants off of us.  Harlem Globetrotter style.  It's infuriating.  So I'm setting the bar low.  Just split Bedlam.  Round 2 is on my birthday, and I've checked the rules of the universe, and they say my team can't lose on my birthday.  So that makes me feel better.
3. Graphene for $400, Alex.  I read an article about graphene a few weeks ago.  It is a pure carbon that is only one atom thick, It's faster, stronger, and cheaper.  Like Kanye.  It could revolutionize the semi conductor world.  Anyway, after I read the article, my thought process went something like this: I feel smarter!....I'm going to go to bed smarter than I started the day...I wonder if I'll ever be able to bring graphene up in a conversation...I am still not as smart as Dr. Sports (my freakishly smart friend)...why is she so much smarter than me?....how does she know all the things she knows?....If I read an article a day, and she never learns any new information, I will be caught up to her in two years....maybe I should work on being less competitive....yeah, like that is going to happen...I bet Dr. Sports doesn't know anything about graphene....Who am I kidding? She's a scientist.  She probably discovered it.
4. That's not proper English!  Tiny Human has taken to responding to things she doesn't like by saying, "No, I didn't."  Need an example? "Can you please eat your green beans?"  "No, I didn't!"  "We need to change your diaper."  "No I didn't!"  Two days ago, she switched it up by saying, "No, I sure didn't!"  I don't know what is more frustrating: her defiance or blatant disregard for proper grammar.
5. When will you be satisfied?  I had the pleasure of hearing a high school senior recite Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech yesterday.  He did it completely from memory and it was wonderful.  It brought me to tears.  Because I'm ridiculous and I love equality.  While everyone focuses on the "I have a dream," part of the speech, the part that spoke to me was, "There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, when will you be satisfied?  We can never be satisfied..."  As God as my witness, I had to refrain from yelling out, "Yes!  Never!"  Like I said, I'm ridiculous.

So that's the Kath report.  Sorry I've been incommunicado...being patient with me, I'm a work in progress.

Letters: SEC, short pants, and dumb, smug faces

Dear SEC,

Haha suckers!  Maybe now we can move past being beat to death with the message that the SEC is the most dominant conference in the history of all of sports.  You're like the show Heroes.  At one point, you were the very best, nothing else could compare.  But then you ran out of ideas and got stale, and we're all moving on.  Save the cheerleader, save the world?  Sorry, the cheerleader is dead.  Urban Meyer killed her.

Sorry 'boutcha,

Kathy

---

Dear Man I Walked Behind Today,

Your pants, they were such a strange length. I was intrigued.  They stopped right before the top of your combat boots.  Do people even call them combat boots any more?  Is that 1992 calling in the background?  Asking for their terminology back?  Anyway, I think they had to be that length on purpose.  Right?  They were kind of like capris, but not.  Because they were on a man.  They were like sensible mom pants for men.  They were truly high-waters.  I mean, if you were to get caught in high water, you'd be fine.  Maybe you are a trend-setter, I'll never know.  I thought about following you around for the rest of the day to figure out your story, but I opted not to.  Because that would make me crazy.

Thanks for the mystery,

Kath

---

Dear Morris Twins,

As Husband and I watched the Suns vs. Thunder game the other night I felt compelled to announce I could never cheer for the Suns because of you two.  Because I don't like you.  Didn't like you when you were at KU, don't like you now.  And it's because of your faces.  You have Jay Cutler face.  And I don't like it.  It's the equivalent of BRF, except I refer to it as EPF, extreme punchable face. Other sufferers include: Pete Carroll, Urban Meyer, and JJ Redick.  And if we are being honest and open here, Le'Bryan Nash has EPF too.  Big time.  But I have to cheer for him, because he's a Cowboy.  But there are times I just want to yell, "That face!  I can't look at that face for one more minute!"

Wipe those faces off your heads,

KHR

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Dear Cowboys,

This is a joint letter to both the football and basketball team.  Let's do our best to pull out some victories, okay?  Okay.  For the football team, I hope that Shippensburg spent the last month coming up with more options than the long bomb down the field versus running it up the middle for a gain of two.  Earn that paycheck, big boy!  And to the basketball team, two teeny little things: make your frickin' free throws and for the love of everything holy, if you are up three at the end of the game, FOUL.  How many, "I can't believe he made that improbable three!" moments must I suffer through?

Good luck and Go Pokes!

K