Roll Tide

Tits And Bits: What Month Is It?

Well, this is awkward.  It’s been a while.  You look good, like you’ve lost some weight.  How have you been?  How’s your Mama?  Your significant other?  Your demon spawn kids?  Job going well?  Weather been nice there?  I’m sorry I haven’t written or called in a while.  I’ll do better.  Let’s do lunch soon.  Give my best to your Mama.

I’m glad we got through that weirdness.  I am sorry I haven’t written in a while.  Life has happened and shit has gotten weird the last few months but in a completely good way.

I start school on March 1st, tuition is paid, and I’ve been kind of freaking out over it.  My friend Lulu, in all her wisdom, says to take it a bite at a time, to not look at the whole sandwich.  I get overwhelmed easily and get a bit panicky so this is excellent advice.  It’s just not so easy to follow through with sometimes.

I haven’t wanted to write here on my personal blog because it’s hard to put everything going on into words.  It’s an exciting time.  It’s just exciting times in unfamiliar waters.  I’d like to wade in but I’ll be unceremoniously dumped into the educational pool on March 1st.  I imagine it’ll be much like when my Daddy peeled me off of him when I was 5, fingernails dug into his back, kicking and screaming, and threw me into the pool without a life jacket on because that would trigger my survival instincts and “teach” me to swim.  For the record, that didn’t work out too well for either of us and I’m still not a very good swimmer.

I thought I’d dive back into things with an abbreviated edition of Tits and Bits.  Remember, Tits And Bits is a semi-regular series where I clean out my list of funny and maybe not so funny tidbits (your mileage may vary) one liners and happenings which may or may not deserve a whole blog post or I’m just too damned lazy to write a whole blog post about.  So, let’s get to it.

 

It’s been tough going for music fans in the last several months with the deaths of so many greats.  E took the death of Glenn Frey the hardest.  One night a couple weeks ago, I was happily doing what I do most nights.  After everyone is in bed, I love my alone time.  I either sit on the couch in complete silence and read or I have headphones on, music blaring.  This particular night, I had opted for silence but E had decided to binge listen to the Eagles on his phone in bed.  At full volume.  Without headphones.  On fucking repeat.  What does a rational woman do when she’s a mere two walls away?  Text, of course.

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R.I.P. Glenn Frey.

 

We’re going on a cruise with our good friends Gary and Laurie at the end of March.  Time is quickly winding down, so we’re trying to take care of last minute details.  E and I smuggle copious amounts of liquor onto the cruises we go on because we’re cheap bastards.  Or we also may or may not need a 12 step program.  You decide.  Anyway, we buy these flasks that look like shampoo and conditioner bottles.  They’ve worked like a charm every single time.  Out of concern for my friends, that they have a good time (and also don’t mooch our smuggled liquor), I sent this text to Laurie earlier.

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Don’t worry, my friends.  If our liquor gets confiscated by the cruise line, we’ll blame it on Gracie.

 

My dear friend Lulu was ensnared in some college football this past season.  Her beloved Dad attended Iowa so she was really excited when the Hawkeyes played Michigan State in the Big Ten championship.  The winner would also get into the 4 team playoff.  Lulu is a very smart cookie but she doesn’t usually watch football.  Here’s what happened.

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I heart you all 3 quarters, Lulu!

 

Speaking of football, my Alabama Crimson Tide won the National Championship!  I won’t name names but you cocky bastards who’ve given me shit one way or another for the last year can shove that up your asses.  16 National Championships.  That’s more National Championships than your team has won total games in the last four seasons.

I do love making wagers with my friends who are fans of lesser teams.  My buddy Gregg is a Michigan State fan and a fellow beer appreciator so we made a friendly wager before our teams played each other in the playoff.  Whoever lost would have to send the other a local brew, something we can’t get in our area.  Gregg was a really good sport, wished me congratulations after the game, and I’m happy to share that I received this in the mail a few weeks later.

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I’m a bit suspicious that he chose to send a beer called “Raggedy Ass” to me but I’ll take it.  Roll Tide, Gregg. Roll Tide.

 

I’ve kept very busy lately getting all my school admissions crap completed but I’ve also been writing a lot for the music blog I contribute to.  You can find my latest entries here. Press passes to concerts have been booming and I’ve been inspired to write about music lately.

I will try to write here more often.  I’m not sure if that’s a promise or a warning.  You decide.  But I do miss y’all.  And I mean it – say hello to your Mama for me.

Tits And Bits

I was checking something on my blog for a friend and realized I haven’t posted anything since September 9th.  I figure that’s way too long to not punish y’all write a post, so here I am.

How’s my decrepit, traitorous back?  Thank you for asking.  I can now bend over without using every curse word I know (and that’s a lot) and I’ve put the heating pad away for future old lady ailments.  I’m not googling “How many damned Motrin can I take before I overdose my lame ass?” everyday just to make sure the answer hasn’t changed.  My deep tissue massage went well.  It made me more sore (sorer?) for a couple days but I think it helped.  I have another one scheduled for next month because I’m a masochist like that.  We are planning on going back to Six Flags over Georgia in a few weeks for Fright Fest and I plan to give the Mind Bender a lot of side eyes and shade for screwing me up.  Bitch.

Let’s get on with the August/September issue of Tits and Bits, where I clean out my list of funny and maybe not so funny tidbits (your mileage may vary) one liners and happenings which may or may not deserve a whole blog post or I’m just too damned lazy to write a whole blog post about.

Me:  I had a nightmare.  I had another baby.

E:  Was it mine?

Back off.  He’s taken, ladies.

My friend Lulu was dealing with some hair in a spot she’d never dealt with being hairy before and asked for my advice.  Well, I actually don’t remember if she specifically asked for my advice but as I do in all situations like that, I gave it to her anyway.  My response was “Shave everything that doesn’t move and if it does move, you chase that shit down and shave it anyway.”

When I was in Texas this past July, my besties and I went to my brother’s bar for another wonderful drag show.  Yes, I still owe you a post on that.  I’ve been busy doing old lady shit like lounging on heating pads and cursing Time.  Anyway, Fantasia somehow talked me into agreeing to get our nipples pierced that night as soon as the bar closed.  I agreed because I was drunk and apparently I’m a pussy and can’t say “Hell no” to friends.  Luckily, the tattoo shop was closed by the time the bar closed.  Fantasia still won’t let it go, though.

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Fantasia, I’m making it official.  I do not want to have big ass stainless steel needles inserted into my precious, tender nipples.  They have never done me wrong and you’re asking me to subject them to this treachery?  I don’t know what your nipples ever did to you but they seriously need to sit your ass down and have a heart to heart.  Y’all need to hug this shit out.  I guess I could possibly turn on my own nipples under certain circumstances but you’re probably going to have to roofie me.  Like more than usual.

And I’ll get that Girl’s Night At The Drag Show wrap-up post written soon, y’all.  I promise.  I mean it this time.  Don’t leave me, baby.  I’ll do you right from now on.

We were in Daytona Beach this past summer and that place is chock-full of alligators.  E and I started talking about how to successfully wrestle a full grown gator.  You know, because we’re experts on that being Texas natives and now living for the past several years in central Alabama, where the closest I’ve gotten to a free range gator is the deep fried variety when we eat at Pappadeaux’s.  Anyway, I said “To capture a gator, you just use the same technique I used to capture you, baby – blind them and sit on them”.  You’re welcome for that advice, single ladies.  Be sure to send me an invite to the wedding.

I was recently caught in a web surfing worm hole and came across an article titled “30 Reasons You Need A Pair Of Leather Pants”.  Here’s 30 reasons I don’t:  The 29 pounds I’ve packed back on and all of the deep South for 10 months out of the year.  I swear, these bitches.

I’m married to an engineer so I can’t avoid being ensnared in some scientific mumbo jumbo talk every now and then, despite my wailing and gnashing of teeth.  During one of these discussions, E condescendingly asked, “You know what an EMP is, don’t you?”  After I flipped him off, I said indignantly, “Yes, I do.  I saw Godzilla, thank you very much!”

On a side note, “Let them fight” is one of my favorite movie quotes of all time.

On a final, sad note, Alabama lost against Ole Miss last Saturday night.  Someone didn’t read my Primer To Being Friends With Me During College Football Season or my Amendment To My Primer To Being Friends With Me During College Football Season.  I know that’s a lot of reading but my friendship is usually worth it.  Okay, not really.  I wouldn’t go to the trouble, either.  Anyway, I had my own little meltdown and this was the product of that.

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As soon as I think I have all my Alabama football bases covered, some Einstein gets a football hard on and thinks they found a loop hole to my football rules.  New amendment.  And seriously, this shit is getting old.  I can’t keep track of all this fuckery.  Watch your own damned shitty football team and worry about your own damned dogs in the fight.  Anyway, back to the Amendment to the Amendment to my Football Primer Guide To Staying Friends With Me During Football Season:  Texts to E will NOT be read to me, motherfuckers.  Also, I’m not sending your ass that delicious Harry & David’s Baklava this Christmas.  That’s right.  You done shit your bed.

Roll Tide, anyway, y’all.

Thanks for reading, as always, even you motherfuckers.  Have a good weekend, y’all!

Bitches STILL Gots To Learn: An Amendment To My Primer To Being Friends With Me During Football Season

I’ve had this saved to my Pinterest account for a while and it’s pretty fitting tonight.

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I was editing my post from last year about how to remain friends with me during football season because I have an amendment to add.  This amendment just came up within the last month or so.  A “friend” posted a video of an Alabama fan to his wall and tagged me in it so it showed up on both his wall and mine which meant that his friends, who aren’t my friends, could also see it.  And that always seems to be where the fun starts.

See, this has happened before with well meaning friends and football jokes.  We joke with each other, we get each other, but then THEIR friends come in and act like complete and total twat waffles.  You wouldn’t believe how much vile trash talk I’ve fielded about Alabama from people I don’t even know.  I have douche bags on my Facebook block list I’ve never even been friends with.  I don’t have to put up with their asses.  The funny thing is, I’ve been told by friends that these anuses (ani?) have complained that I have them blocked because they can’t see when I write something funny now.  Odd how that works, isn’t it?

Maybe I went a little too much balls to the wall in this case but I can’t say I didn’t warn him in Rule #3.  Learn from his mistakes, y’all.  Prepare to be schooled.

My former friend, and I say that because I discovered he apparently unfriended me after this happened, posted the following video on his wall and tagged me.  Again, in direct violation of Rule #3 but I let it slide by offering a joke at first.  Do I have to tap this shit out on stone tablets before it’s taken seriously, like the 10 Commandments?  Because I totally can.  But even Moses reached his boiling point and said “Fucketh thou shit.”  And if you disagree with me, you aren’t human.

But I digress.  Here’s the damned video.

My former friend’s friend (I know, I know, this is getting more confusing than what the hell Bruce Jenner has under the hood but try to stay with me) is an Arkansas fan so we’ll refer to her from here on out as WPS (Woo Pig Sooie).  Anyway, my former friend deleted the entire Facebook exchange that came about due to the above video sometime soon after this whole cluster went down.  I know this because when I saw the Facebook notification informing me that there was another incredibly brilliant comment and total stinger posted by WPS (that would be her final comment), I couldn’t find the exchange on my wall anymore.

Good thing I saved those screenshots I took.

Also, seeing as he makes all his posts public, I have chosen not to edit out his name, but I did edit out WPS’s.

You can follow along in the slideshow, starting with the still picture from the video I posted above.

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Textbook example of violation of Rules #3 and #5, y’all.

It’s also an example of the newly added Rule #10:  Your friends will act like defective butt plugs to me if you choose to tag me in an Alabama post, kidding or not, so you’d better be damned sure you want to try that fuckery with me.  When they do, I will go balls to the wall (I have three balls, little known fact) with them.  I will call them out on their own bullshit, I will remind them of the WORDS they typed and not let them get away with back peddling.  I will shine the light of Nick Saban’s football brightness on their absolute and complete ignorance, classlessness, and lack of grace.  I will put you in a very uncomfortable position because YOU put me in one.

I hope the door hit your fat ass on the way out, by the way.  And Roll Damn Tide.

Screw You, Forrest Gump! And That Geico Pig, Too!

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I know, I know.  I’m way behind.  I am still stuck in post-Halloween hangover.  Costumes are still not completely unpacked and put into storage and I’m already grappling with the fact that I’m one week away from being behind on Christmas.  What the hell happened to November?  I promise to post my Halloween wrap-ups in the next week.

I’m also still recovering from a really tough football weekend.  I won’t lie.  I had a meltdown by the end of the 3rd quarter of the Alabama-LSU game and exiled myself to my bathroom for the duration of the game, firmly believing I was a jinx to the team the longer I watched.  E would run back to give me updates from time to time.  I sat behind a locked door with the exhaust fan turned on so I could block out all football noise, temporarily uninstalled Bleacher Report from my phone so I couldn’t check the score or who had possession, wrote a Facebook rant, may or may not have called my friends “ass hats”, and rocked back and forth with a beer.  I’m not proud of that but there it is.  And we won.  So I may exile myself again this Saturday when we play #1 ranked Mississippi State.

Alabama withstood LSU but Texas A&M beat Auburn, and Notre Dame went down to Arizona State.  Even if you’re not a football fan, you will appreciate the latest round of social media meltdowns from this past weekend’s heart wrenching losses, brought to you by Roll Bama Roll.

Fans who got a double whammy of hatred for the opposing team and self-loathing for their own team became suicidal, turned on the adorable Geico pig, threatened assault on senior citizen coaches and accused leprechauns of sodomy!  I also learned that watching Auburn football can give you the Ebola.  Holy shit.

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Who knew other team’s fans called Bama fans “Gumps”, as in Forrest, I guess?  I didn’t.

It’s nice to know I wasn’t alone in my football meltdown.  Roll Damn Tide.  Also, fuck that Geico pig!

Alabama Football Gave Me STD

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If you’re watching the Alabama vs Florida football game right now, you know that the Florida defense has caused three turnovers.  Three.  Two of those times has resulted in Florida getting points on the board.

At this point in the game, every time our offense has the ball, I curl into the fetal position (no joke) and half scream, half cry “Hold onto the damned ball!”

I am a nervous wreck.  I’m so flustered, I just told E “I have STD!  I’m going to be at dinner tonight and suddenly scream “Hold onto the damned ball!”

As soon as I saw E’s face, I realized what I said.  He laughed and said I had to write a post about it.

Of course, I meant Alabama is going to give me a case of PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  But who knows?  I still may get a STD by the end of the day.

God willing, Alabama will hold onto the damned ball for the rest of the game and we will prevail but if you hear screaming at 3 a.m., it’s just me and my STD, yelling “HOLD ONTO THE DAMNED BALL, BAMA”!

Y’all have a great weekend.  Roll Damned Tide!

Bitches Gots To Learn: A Primer To Being Friends With Me During College Football Season

It’s college football season, which can only mean one thing:  I’m going to lose at least four friends before we hit New Year’s Eve if past seasons and the inherent assholery of some of my friends are any indications.

Last year, this meme was posted on my wall by different friends about six times:

Roll Mother Fucking Tide!

I’m just shocked they think I’m a classy lady all those other months.

Moving along, here is a College Football Season Code Of Conduct for friends who still want to see my Facebook statuses after January.

1.  Blood does not matter.  I have de-friended family due to their hard-ons for hating Alabama football.  Even when Bama won the game, Family Member Zeke would traipse his redneck ass over to my wall every damned Saturday (Thursday night games threw him off so I got a break on those) and point out what Saban & Co. did wrong with joyful, childlike, horrifically misspelled glee.  Zeke’s team wasn’t even playing Alabama.  That’s right, Zeke chose to be a douchebag when he didn’t even have a dog in the fight.  Zeke is dead to me.

2.  Do you go to church regularly?  Every Sunday, you say?  Well, friend, your chances of  being a total and complete jackass just went through the roof of Bryant Denny Stadium.  Church people are the worst about posting smack on my wall.  It’s incredibly difficult to follow the Minister of Music in singing “I’ll Fly Away” on Sunday morning when all your mental energy is focused on not charging the stage to rip out his spine in retaliation for blasting your team on Facebook a mere 12 hours earlier.  Church people, read the Ten Commandments before you come over to my wall to post that “really funny” anti-Bama meme.  God doesn’t like ugly, y’all.

3.  Would you like it if I shat on your team’s jersey, set it on fire and then threw it in your yard?  Yes?  You’re a sick fuck.  For the people who emphatically shook their heads “no”, this is for you.  My Facebook wall is my house, so to speak.  Do not come to my house and shit in my yard by posting a “really funny” Bama meme that you got from your Minister of Music’s wall (see Guideline 2, above).  Post what you want on your own wall but don’t you dare tag me in it.  That isn’t a loop hole, Einstein.  It’s the passive aggressive douche canoe way to do it, for sure, but it still counts as shitting on my lawn.  For my really crafty, local community college type of friends, typing my name in an anti-Bama post without tagging me in it also counts as shitting on my lawn.  You ain’t smart and you ain’t sneaky.  Just don’t do it.  I will not miss seeing your really bad haircut, pictures of your stubby toes sporting a brand new pedicure or your 4,200 calorie dinner on Facebook.  Try me, suckers.

4.  Did you go to school with me?  You have about a 99.7% chance of being a total twat waffle to me during college football season.  Former classmates, we lived in a very, very small town.  Males and females both, the following is for you:  I know what you looked like in school and I have pictures.  I won’t name names but I probably/definitely shot Elmer’s glue up your nose one day in retaliation for stealing my markers.  You used to bring the Sears catalog to school and point out which engagement ring you were going to buy me someday.  I might have accidentally pushed you off the monkey bars one day because you refused to quit pulling my pig tails even after I warned you to stop multiple times.  We stuffed our training bras together because, you know, girl unity and all that shit.  We traded Swatches in the hallway in between classes.  I was your lookout when you just had to smoke that cigarette in the girl’s bathroom.  I taught you how to kiss using the air and my own lips, bitch.  You used to listen to Sting incessantly and insisted on wearing nothing but trench coats because it “looked cool” and Sting-y.  I know who your very first kiss was, maybe even your first lay.  I helped cover for you when you were making out hot and heavy in the back of the band bus on the way back home from away games.  Do you really want to piss me off over a football game?  A game that includes the two-point conversion option, which I have had to explain to you multiple times?  I didn’t think so.

5.  Do you know someone who went to school with me and we became “friends” through witty banter on Facebook but you’ve never actually met me in real life? I’m not sure how to say this, but your chance of being the biggest ass clown in the world just went terminal.  There is no hope.  You have little or nothing at stake.  We have no past history so your dick grows ten times its normal size and you feel free to trash talk Bama at will to me.  I have lived without your ass for 44 years and I can live without it for another 44.  Tuck your tiny dick back in your pants and look up your own team’s stats for entertainment.

6.  Then there are those people who don’t get excited about college football until Alabama loses and makes a bit of room for their sucky team in the standings and then suddenly, THEY ARE ALL ABOUT THE COLLEGE FOOTBALL.  They want all the college football.  They haven’t posted once about college football all season but suddenly turn into Lee Corsos and Kirk Herbstreits right before my eyes when The Tide takes a licking or their team pulls their heads out of their asses long enough to finally pull a two game winning streak.  Football becomes EXCITING AND FUN.  I call these people “bandwagoners”.  I have gotten trash talk texts from people who have literally never texted me before, or at least in years, because Bama had a bad day.  Those people are usually the bandwagoners.   I have a new rule.  Instead of ignoring your pussy texts like I did last year, I’m going to update this blog post to include your picture then send you the link every hour, on the hour, for a full 24 hours after I receive your texts.  M’kay, sweetie?

7.  I am capable of calmly and rationally talking football with you.  If you want to engage in an unemotional, factual discussion about college football and you can resist buying into the hype and drivel the latest talking head on ESPN is spewing, let’s do it.  Just don’t try to tell me how much of a legend “Johnny Football” is (Kenny Hill just blew that two year long bullshit saga out of the water last night with his performance against South Carolina) or that Bumfuck State may be able to make a run to the big game because they have a new water boy.

8.  Know your own team.  I met a Texas A&M Aggie fan last summer.  He was in a big group of people I went out to dinner with back home and was proudly wearing his Aggie cap.  It was August and football camps had started.  He got this smug “Oh, this is cute, I’ll bash Bama football with a defenseless girl” look on his face and attempted to do just that.  It took very little time for me to discover that he didn’t even know the date of the upcoming Alabama vs. Aggie game or basic stats of the previous season’s game between our teams yet he proudly boasted and crowed about beating Bama.  He didn’t know who the Aggies were playing in the first game of the season.  I quickly relieved him of the notion that girls don’t know anything about football and I had the smug “Aren’t you cute?” look in the end.  Not to pick on Aggie fans, but I’ve also talked football with an Aggie who, although he most definitely knew who “Johnny Football” was, could not tell me the name of his Head Coach.  It’s Sumlin, by the way.  Don’t insult me by attempting to belittle my team when you don’t know shit about your own.

9.  There are exceptions to every rule.  Last year, someone tried to call me out on what they saw as inconsistency in doling out my football policy.  There is literally one person who can get away with (although I might not talk to his ass for a week or so) joking with me about Alabama football.  He is an Oklahoma Sooner fan and long before OU kicked Bama’s ass in the Sugar Bowl last season, he supported me.  He supported me as a friend because he’s certainly not a Bama fan.  He knows the emotion I have for my team because he has the same for his team.  He knows how completely gut wrenching and literally sickening it is when you lose a football game when you care so much, when your every Saturday is completely structured around your team’s game, when offseason is spent comparing recruit stats and Depth Chart Day actually means something.  There have been many times during a game when things were looking down for Bama and my friend would send me a message, pointing out Bama’s strengths and not our weaknesses, telling me and E not to go into a spiraling depression, that Bama’s “got this”, even when we didn’t believe they did.  His wife, who has family in Alabama, sent me an Alabama Scentsy warmer for Christmas.  These unseen-by-most and very rare acts of football fandom kindness earn them a bit of extra leeway.  If that means I’m a hypocrite, so be it.

10.  I’m leaving this one blank because I’m sure some dipshit will make me amend these guidelines sometime this football season.

Y’all support your teams, be your team’s biggest fan, get naked and wear your team’s colors all over your body on game day and please send me a picture if you do that.  But play nice.  Stick to your own wall and don’t shit in someone else’s yard.  I’ve done it, I’m not innocent but the last several years have really opened my eyes to what “friendly joking” is and isn’t.

Being an Alabama fan has provided me with lots of opportunities to boast.  Many, many times, I could have retaliated by posting memes and jokes on friend’s walls after Bama pummeled their team, after that friend had posted trash talk and memes on my wall the whole week before the game.  Some won’t believe this but I get the greatest satisfaction from winning by remaining silent.  If you have a huge dick, you don’t have to shove a tube sock down your pants.  Feel free to make that your Inspirational Quote Of The Day but be sure to credit me.  Oh… and ROLL DAMN TIDE!