Ladies, gentlemen, and whatever else, I have officially crossed the line from hick to redneck...possibly even to dare I say it white trash.
It all went down last Saturday. The night started with another great hockey game (my blood pressure is still elevated...my boys had me worried during the first two periods). Me and my group of yahoo-ligans went to the after party in Bricktown. Things were going great until #8 Marty Standish announced to the world "no autographs until I pee." Gee, thanks alot Marty...hope everything came out okay.
Anywho, the evening went down the crapper as we were leaving the restaurant. It must be one of Murphy's Laws that the sober person will be the one to make a complete jackass out of herself...and I did...as I went stumbling down the front steps of the Halftime Sports Grill. My face and ass are fortunately bruise and scrape free. Needless to say, however, that I have no more self esteem...especially since the entire Blazers roster were at the top of the steps saying "nice landing."
The team went to one of the clubs and I proceeded on to my car. At the corner near the club was a street musician. #35 Sean Connors asked the guy if he could play, and the guy let him. Oh my God! I wish I could turn back time...I wish I could learn to think before I speak...I started shouting "Freebird! Freebird!"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was when time ceased and the earth began to tremble. Am I being terribly "un-Southern" by hating that damn song?!?
1 comment:
Burned out..that's what it is..burned out..
Hope you didn't get anything hurt (other than your pride) in your tumble!
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