Here I am, on my lunch break, still a little hungover, and on the high of an epic weekend. On Friday, my oldest daughter's team makes the city championship for the first time in school history. My youngest daughter tells informs me that she was named student of the month at her junior high. Naturally, I'm pleased. And yet, this was just the beginning.
Saturday, I watch my Sun Devils gut out a tough OT win over UCLA on national TV. (Oh, and Verne Lundquist, if I ever hear you say Ruksiks again, I'm going to jump on a plane and choke your Scooby Doo talking ass). That evening was followed by yet another epic UA meltdown against USC. The weekend is going great.
But nothing compares to watching the Cardinals go to the Super Bowl. I'll have more thoughts on this when the reality of the situation sinks in, and I can respond without sounding like a 12 year old fan girl (OMG! This is so awesome!!!1!!)
Then, at 10:00 last night, still pretty drunk and euphoric, I get a knock on my door. My lady friend decided that I was going to be her booty call. Yep, I feel so cheap. Seriously women, quit complaining about that, it was an amazing finish to an amazing weekend.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment