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
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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
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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
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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

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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

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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