Every Man A Wildcat

A friend of mine from down here in the land O' the longhorn had the nerve to tell me I might enjoy a UT tailgate as much as one back home. I attempted to joke with the guy, telling him he didn't know squat about tailgating. Then he asked me to give him some examples of a K-State tailgate and why they are so great...three hours later he acted like he wasn't impressed. So I told him one tailgate that always stuck out. This was easy. November 11, 2006. KSU vs. UT. My younger sis, Lauren came up to see if KSU was where she wanted to be when she went to college. There really was no other option, so this was just a good excuse to go to a game with her big bro. We showed up a few hours in advance...I drank...a lot. We went into the game. Beat UT, stormed the field and had a great time. Then, for good measure I told him what I did the next year when we beat UT again, which ended up being the same scenario as the first except apparently I stormed the neighbors yard...and then their living room...in other words, an equally good time. His rebuttal, K-State sucks and we have a very old man for a coach...real classy guy. Then I said some things I now regret, he countered with some phrases I hope he regrets...Then I don't really remember what happened after that. Everything kind of went red and hazy...when I awoke the next morning I was in the backyard with all of my K-State gear on...and my friend hasn't been much of a friend as of late...he had it coming.

After this little episode it really got me to thinking. The old saying is true. Every Man A Wildcat. This has been preached to me since birth. And I guess that's the reason I am the forever optimist that every K-State football team will be the surprise team of that year and somehow, someway make their way back to a bowl game and get people to say, "Oh yeah, these guys were good not too long ago." But after spending that opening college football weekend exactly 676 miles from where I normally would be on a Saturday morning, and then watching my beloved wildcats get beat by some form of a Ragin' Cajun, I finally took a step back and told myself, "It might be a while before they get to where they need to be." It is a very hard pill to swallow. I didn't agree with what old Ronald was trying to do when he was around, but even then I still thought during those three years, we always had a chance to be pretty good. And by pretty good, I mean if we didn't have to play any kind of defense (which we didn't), we would be owning the Big 12.

I do understand that I am apart of the spoiled Wildcat generation. The part that is accustomed to bowl games every year and not being apart of any kind of shellacking or ugly, ugly, ugly loss to some team from Louisiana. (It looked like a bad high school game) I will never be able to fully understand what my parents and all other fellow K-Staters went through B.S. (Before Snyder or Bull S**t, whichever you prefer...still taking into account this is a family oriented blog.) These people in my eyes are the greatest fans you can find. Going through that bad of times and still being a fan is amazing to me. But I was lucky enough to witness how badly all of these people wanted to win. Going to some great games...Nebraska 1998 and 2000, both great games, all the glorious KU beatings, Texas 2006, sorry Meg and Nate. And then when our family (Who, by the way, are probably as big of K-State fans you'll ever meet) brought our horrible curse to the bowl games, which we would drive very, very long distances to watch, and then get to see a different team show up and get their arses handed to them. But during all of those bowl games I would always get the chills. Seeing 45,000 K-State fans at the Cotton Bowl, or 40,000 at the Alamo Bowl, and around 35,000 at the Texas Bowl, I got to witness first hand how much K-State football meant to so many people. I also got to see how these people would react after coming so far to see so little. Needless to say, I learned the true art of cussing at K-State bowl games.

Despite those games, and the outlook of this season so far, I will still support this team as if we were in contention of going to a good bowl game. That right there is called great parenting.
So Wildcat faithful, know this. When all these hippies down here don their burnt orange and sing their fight song (which by the way is to the tune of I've been working on the railroad...found that out last weekend at the bars and made fun of it until the large Texan decided it wasn't funny anymore), yours truly will be purple clad roaming the streets and doing the wabash all by my lonesome...but I know you will all be there in spirit...that meaning with some form of an alcoholic beverage in hand...Go State!

El Guapo And The Spaniards

Now I would be doing myself and you, my followers, a disservice if I didn't tell you about some of my coworkers known simply as...The Spaniards. These gentlemen hail from Mexico, and everyone else at work refers to them as "Mexicans". For some reason I always felt this was a derogatory term towards these hard working individuals. They have assured me it is not. But, I work with three of these guys almost everyday, so I thought I would mix it up a little bit. Now when Dario, Alfonso, Eduardo and myself go out to get some work done. I let everyone know, "It's me and the Spaniards, not me and the Mexicans." I know, I know. Spaniard would normally mean someone from Spain. But how often do you actually cross paths with someone from Spain? Not too often. Now, how about someone that speaks Spanish? (Consider my current location) That answer would be everyday. And I am pretty sure Stache, The Fons, and Ed get a kick out of it. (Those are their nicknames, Stache is Dario, he has the thinnest, out or work porn star mustache I've ever seen. And I think the other two are self explanatory.) I'm a little closer to Stache than Fons and Ed, but that's because Stache speaks way more English than the other two thirds of the Spaniards. My nickname from the boys when I started was "Blondie", which they thought was hilarious. I convinced them to switch it to "El Guapo", which they still think is very funny, but I like that a lot more than "Blondie".

They've taught me a few phrases. Most of them being the bare essentials...What are you doing? Why are you doing that?...Stop doing that. And a few dirty ones, but I'll keep them to myself. This is a family oriented blog.

We enjoy ourselves. Actually they have all the fun by making jokes and laughing hysterically and I laugh along acting like I know what they're saying, but at least we're all laughing. A typical day for us would be, the Spaniards hop aboard their trusty mowers, and grab their handy weed eaters, and I follow them in my convenient cart, helping them whenever they need it...which is not very often. So I end up bouncing around the course helping out wherever needed. Then after a long day, we head back to the shop, they grab their things, I grab my clubs, ask them if they would like to play a quick round, and they say, "No, golf is for the white men." Then we all laugh (I don't know why I always laugh, just trying to fit in I suppose) and we go our separate ways.

So, when you wake up in the morning, go outside and breathe in that fresh air. Step back and think, El Guapo and The Spaniards are somewhere out there, showing Crenshaw Cliffside whose boss, one hole at a time.

A quick weather update, we are one day shy of breaking the all time record of 100 degree days. And there is not another one in sight. We have had a freakish amount of rain the last two weeks (14 inches a few miles from my course) and the temperature has finally dropped down to livable conditions. I'm a little upset. Don't get me wrong, I'll take this weather any day of the week. But after suffering for 66 days, I feel like I should be rewarded. And the only reward I could accept would have to be an all time record...and some sort of trophy or medal...and cash...or one, just one more friggin' day.

I Am Freaking Out In Here....

Before I begin, I just got back from my weekly trivia night, and for twelve weeks my team has been competing for a spot in the final round which was tonight. We tied for third. I "helped" answer two, maybe three questions...out of eighty. Now a bigger man would say the right questions weren't asked or he just had an off night. I am not that man. These were the worst questions that could have been asked. There's a movie quote round, that I do pretty well in if I may say so myself. I knew one quote...thank God for Tommy Boy... the rest were the quote, unquote chick flicks. From that point on I was useless. The ones I did know, everyone knew! But other than all that, I have always had a very good time at all the trivias I've been to.

Now that I'm done venting, I'll get to the main subject of this particular blog...I have never been more paranoid in my life than I have been the last couple of days...I see I have your attention, let me explain. Meg, Nate and their two little one's left for vacation on Monday for a week...to Hawaii...I am very happy for them. I know they are all enjoying the beautiful weather, the wonderful beaches, ocean as far as the eye can see...I'm here with three cats that respect me as much as my youngest cousin. (Check blog #1 for reference to how much my youngest cousin respects me.) To these felines, I am the man that fills their bowl with food, and cleans their poop from their litter boxes. In other words, I have no control over them. Lucky for me, two of them are scared of me. Their also scared of anything that makes any sudden movements, so I have that going for me. But the third cat, a monster they call Maseo, is scared of nothing. And shows me the least respect of them all...so he is my favorite.

In these two days since the Little family left for their trip, I have come to the conclusion that either A.) There are ghosts in this house, B.) There are two, maybe three other people I can't find in this house, or C.) I am not drinking heavily enough at night to block out the ghosts and this new family tap dancing through the house til' the break of dawn. Normally, I thrive in this kind of situation. You see, I am a ghostbuster in training (16 years!), but I left the charger for my proton pack in Kansas and I feel naked without it. I am surviving, but barely. Every hour on the hour I make a room to room house inspection with my trusty 7 iron. The fort is secure as of right now, but who knows what type of crisis I might face in the near future. So if you don't hear from me in the next few days...just wait longer.

Weather update: We got a cold front in central Texas! It got down to 97 today. Lucky for me, I packed an extra sweater for work this morning. I heard tomorrow could be down to 94! I guess all I need to see now is this phenomenon called...what's the name...oh yeah, rain.