Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink -- Day 2 (Part 2)

Before I tell you what happened….you have to promise to believe me.

Because when I tell you that this was not a rash decision…I want you to believe me.

Ask my friends. And the husband. They’ll tell you.

That the one thing that I have wanted FOREVER is a tattoo. Of an ichthus. On my foot.

And I have bugged these same people that will vouch for me for close near forever to take me and get one. And they never would.

Until Saturday night.

It all started out the same way. I spotted a tattoo parlor (this one was next to our hotel which seemed like providence anyway), and I started in with the begging. I want a tattoo. Please take me.

To my shock and surprise….they did.

One of the credentials that the parlor had to have was that it was clean. And this one was. It had lemon yellow walls, and didn’t have whacko paintings of skulls and dragons draped on the wall. Looked good to me.

And then I met Cadillac Chris. Apparently he is a cardiologist who packs heat, owns 3 Cadillacs, and also single handedly took down a Taliban cell when he was doing time in the army. And we all smiled and pretended like we believed him.

Because we didn’t want him to screw up my tat.

After arguing with Cadillac Chris for a good 15 minutes on the size of my Jesus fish….he finally took me back. (Cadillac Chris was under the impression that I was sadly mistaken about the size of the ink I wanted…but since I had rehearsed this day in my head for, literally, years…I stood firm and forced him to give me what I wanted.)

Look…that’s me and Cadillac Chris. And his nephew who couldn’t have been older than the can of cranberry sauce that I have sitting in my cabinet. The youngster kept telling me that it wouldn’t hurt….Uh, thanks…kid.

The kid was wrong. It hurt. Like the dickens. Obviously.

And then he was done.

Just like that.

And I now have it. And I couldn’t be happier. I love it.

And to celebrate my new ink…we went dancing. Because we all love to dance!! We met up with some other folks from our town there, and we all had a great time rockin’ out to some killer 80s music. It just doesn’t get better than Prince, Madonna, AC/DC, and Belinda Carlisle.

And by the end of the night…we all were having so much fun that we had forgotten about the game.

But we’re not discussing that.

Day 2 (Part 2) of Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink – Over and Out.

Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink -- Day 2 (Part 1)

Whoever decided that the football game should be at 11:00 in the morning was nuts. He obviously didn’t discuss the timing with me. And he obviously doesn’t understand my sleeping patterns.

But, I put all grumbling aside and got up.

After all….it was HOG DAY!!! I was going to get my scream on and Woo Pig Sooie my Razorbacks to victory. Well, by now, you probably know how that all turned out, so we’re not going to dwell too much on the game here. For one, it makes me a little upset. And for two, it makes me a little upset.

So instead of rehashing the Hogs lack of memory concerning how to play the game of football…we’ll go over some of the more interesting parts of the day.

First off….dress the part.

So I gussied up…and later regretted the gussying because my gussified Hog red shoes gave me killer blisters while I trekked the length of Nebraska to get to the stadium.

I also mastered the art of the fake tattoo.

What I did struggle with was how to take a picture of myself with the tattoo without looking like a haggard old spinster. I am in my 30s and have wrinkles. And crow’s feet. And didn’t really notice until taking these pictures. I’m blaming it all on the fact that I’m a genuinely happy person and those are all nothing but smile and laugh lines. Ahem.

See…look.

H.A.G.G.A.R.D.

So...lesson to be learned here:  If you want an upclose picture of yourself, open your eyes and mouth really big, act all excited, and it flattens the wrinkles.  You're welcome.

After deciding that the cutey Hog on my face was just going to have to deal with being wrinkly, we took off.

And were all super excited about the game.

Even Trip Nazi Wes. Who might possibly suffer from Game Day Road Rage…but I’m not for sure.

While we SAT in game traffic for what seemed like hours, we saw this car.

Obvious Ole Miss Rebel fans, dontcha think?

When we got there….finally…we had the privilege of parking at the Oxford Mall. Kirk was especially giddy about having this picture made in front of JC Penny.

He worked many a hour in that store, wrapping presents and chatting up his drag queen co-worker, while he was in school at Ole Miss.

Speaking of Kirk and Ole Miss…let me chase a little rabbit for a second.

The husband was highly confused this weekend. He knew that he was supposed to be rooting for Arkansas. He KNEW that he was supposed to. But something in him couldn’t let go of his short-lived Hotty Toddy heritage. So…he decided to go all incognito and confuse everyone. He wore a blue hat (for Ole Miss) with the Arkansas A. Bless his RazorRebel heart.

Okay….where was I?

Oh right….

After Lisa and I posed in front of the semi, we found our seats and sat in high anticipation of a really great game!

We were sorely disappointed. But we had a great time. And the weather was beautiful.  Our seats were in the Rebel endzone (yes…you heard me right), and we learned quickly to not call the Hogs very loudly lest you wanted the highly intoxicated Rebel fans to yell profanity at you.

See that guy?

He found it particularly fascinating to throw the bird and obscenities around like they were candy.

Classy guy, I tell ya.

And then there was this guy. Who wasn't in on the Hog slander, but did have incredible fashion sense. Yes, that is a paisley shirt. Loved it.

And I ate popcorn and drank Diet Coke out of an overpriced souvenir cup that a college kid tried to steal from me… No sir. You don’t mess with a sister’s cup.

And then the game was over. But we’re not discussing that.

On our way out we did see this very nicely dressed lady pick up her box of Wheat Thins that she had stashed IN THE DUMPSTER during the game. Gag. She will now live in infamy as the Weirdo Wheat Thin Dumpster Lady.

Then we headed to The Grove.

And it was something to see. You’ve heard of The Grove, haven’t you? You know…tailgating at its finest only without the tailgates. I mean, these Rebel fans get serious. There aren’t just tents. There are tents with chandeliers. And slipcovers. And floral centerpieces. And folks dripping with more diamonds than Liz Taylor.

This is the tent of our friends from our town that are displaced Rebel fans.

And next to them was Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. No joke. Her tent was all pink; all her friends were gay men; and she had a little dog in a pink baby carriage. You betcha.

Then we headed off for the husband to get all kinds of sentimental.

Here he is at his old dorm.

Then we went into the Rebel bookstore and were the ONLY Hog fans in there. But the husband got all nostalgic on us and needed memorabilia.

He also might have cried. But I didn’t tell you that.

He wasn’t the only one weepy though.

Lisa and I had tears of achiness from the gussied up shoe blisters. So we took our shoes off and went barefoot. And decided that then we would be obvious Arkansas fans….what with the no shoes and all.

Wes was misty…because of the..uh…loss.

But we’re not discussing that.

Day 2 (Part 1) of Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink….Over and Out.

(The ink part is coming....I promise!!!!)

Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink -- Day 1

I think that 2009 is going to hold the record for Rascal Raising travel logs. Because we seem to just keep taking trips.


Oh…I’m not upset about that. Because I love me some trip taking. But I do feel a wee bit sorry for you people that have to hear about it. But seeing as I run this show…travel logs it is. You’re welcome.

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So…we headed out.

And drove the little people to the Mother Ship. And felt slightly guilty about dumping the sickly pint sized munchkins with the ‘rents. But then remembered that the grandparents take better care of our children than we do, so knew that the kids were in way better hands with Grammy and Poohpa than they would have been with us. So we left them there. And whispered prayers that Grammy and Poohpa wouldn’t disown us as we skedaddled off for a romping weekend with the besties.

We now officially owe my parents the world. First for the whole raising me thing, and now for letting us play with our friends.

Guilt-ridden minds in-tow, we headed to meet up with Lisa and Wes, and we loaded ourselves up in the Tahoe and jetted.

First stop. Walmart. Naturally.

To buy rear end decorations.

No. For the car, silly.

(But then we put them on the side because this blog post and that pitiful excuse for a joke were not at the forefront of our thoughts on magnetic swine placement.)

And then we drove. And talked. And giggled. And drove some more.

We finally made it to the hotel in Mississippi and got all gussied up for a night out. Hmmmm….where to eat? Where to eat?

No brainer.

Yes. Paula Deen’s. Queen of all thing butter and creamy. Talk about stick-to-your-hips food but lovin’ every second. Yes, sirree.

I ate this.

That flat pancake looking thing is a hoecake. I was intrigued to say the least. But I was pleasantly surprised with the hoecake. Another bucket list item…check.

The husband’s plate looked like this.

And then Paula begged to have her picture made with me.

And I admired her very faincy salt and pepper shakers.

And then by sheer luck, we met a fairy.

Now. I call that just plain good fun.

Day 1 of Football, Fun, Friends, and Ink. Over and out.