I'm Awful, I Know.

Yeah, it has been too long. That line is getting a little redundant and I am sure you are getting tired of hearing it. I just seem to be so busy anymore that by the time I get a chance to write a little something, I’m just not feeling it. I hate to force it. This time, since it has been so long, I will actually have a bunch of mishmash.

I can start back with the week after the LSU football game. Not much to report. Other than the stupid stuff I have been doing in the past few weeks. By stupid stuff, I mean injuring myself by not thinking things out. I was making a pot of chili and I was dicing up a fresh jalapeno pepper to add to the mix. I had washed my hands at least four times between then and bedtime when I was taking out my contacts. It didn’t matter. I know what pepper spray feels like, now. No resisting arrest for me. Stupid…more of that later.

That weekend was the Florida game. The tailgating was pretty cool with the masses walking by our tailgating spot to go to the library where ESPN’s College Gameday was filming. We saw some funny signs and t-shirts. The funniest one read, “Tim Tebow rhymes with douche bag.” Clever. It had to be a UK student that thought that on up. There was a pregnant lady tailgating beside us with a sign in the shape of an arrow. She held it pointing down to her belly. The sign said “Hey Kirk (referring to Kirk Herbstreit, of course) sign my future Wildcat!” And closer to gametime, she came back showing us where Kirk actually signed her stomach. Lunacy.

David W. and DK stopped by our tailgating spot on the way to the game. It was good to see those guys. Other than that, not much excitement was going on. I retained all my chest hair, anyway. The game was tense. Beth almost killed some guy. Long story. Ask her if you want details. I will say this, I always thought if Beth started a fight with some guy I would have to finish it. No, now, I think she could handle her own. UK lost. Douche Bag made Kentucky look very JV-ish.

That following week I was sort of busy getting ready for the fall fishing trip. A few of us met on the Lost Creek Plantation that Friday night so we could head out early Saturday morning. A couple of the crew, well, at least one person “dadn’t” (yeah, I said it) understand what early means and 8 a.m. means 9:30 a.m.

We made it to our cabins on Cherokee Lake around noon, just in time to watch the UK-Mississippi State debacle. The first beer was opened around 1 p.m. The Breeder’s Cup races I wanted to watch started around 2 p.m. I had spread about $60 across 5 races. UK’s game was over around 5 p.m. Eighth beer opened shortly thereafter. I didn’t win a single bet on any of the races. The fifth of Jim Beam Black Label was opened about 6 p.m. I will clarify this upfront, when the night was over just a little past the neck of the bottle was emptied.

Later on that evening after a few games of Texas Hold ‘Em, (not sure whose idea it was, could have been mine, I am just not pointing any fingers) my cousin Jarrod and I decided to arm wrestle. (I was on the right in the picture.) Remember earlier when I told you about getting hurt doing stupid stuff, well, this falls directly in that category. I was at a disadvantage from the get-go. When we got our grip, I was already in a Wolverine Wrist Lock where my hand was already bent backwards. When we started, instead of trying to pull my arm over the normal way, he was pulling towards himself as well. Doomed. Then, everyone in the cabin heard something pop. My arm. So, I just let it go. It tingled immediately then I couldn’t move it without pain. After playing three more games of Hold ‘Em, I decided to take a bunch of ibuprofen go to bed. When I woke the next morning, my arm felt a little better, but I couldn’t cast with it to fish or swing a golf club. My only options were to stay in Tennessee and drink or go home and heal. For the first time, I made the right decision. I headed home.

The drive home was painful. Every time I had to shift gears, the pressure I put on my elbow brought great pain. That was the longest three and a half hours of my life. Long story short, I went to the doctor the next day and she thought I had just sprained my elbow and wrist simultaneously. Don’t worry, it is feeling much better now. I would say I am at 90 percent. That’s my excuse for not posting more often, yeah.

We traveled to see the in-laws the following weekend. It was a really fun time. My nieces are growing like weeds. Emma cracks me up because watching her helps me see what Beth was like as a pre-adolescent girl. I am sure the way Emma acts isn't far off from Beth. Dennis and Jo Anne could probably confirm this for me. My niece Paige is so much bigger than the last time I saw her, which was the time when I held a door up for Dennis and Chris while they outsmarted the doorframe. Man, that was times. I also got to eat at my favorite wing joint, Quaker Steak and Lube.

Excited for the basketball season? I am. Well, I was…until the meltdown in the Bluegrass. There was a lot of grief when Charlotte’s Web or Gardner-Webb or whoever it was that thrashed the Cats last Wednesday. Billy Gillispie took the heat for the loss. I went on record two weeks ago saying I am not a Billy G fan. In my opinion he is another Tubby—an unproven coach with one team making a run in the NCAA Tournament. Had anyone honestly heard of Billy G two years ago. I’ll bet you heard of Acie Law IV before you hear of the G Man. Whatever, I don’t think we will be buying season tickets next year. A little early to say? Maybe.

I was a bachelor this weekend with Beth in Gatlinburg on a golf trip. Friday night I visited Brandon and his family in Frankfort. We hustled back to Lexington on Saturday to watch the football game at Buffalo Wild Wings. It was packed so we went to Harry's. The football Cats dropped it on Vandy in Nashville this past weekend in what seemed like the longest game ever. Both teams looked like OVC also-rans. There were penalties and injuries all over the field. Nasty football at best. The Cats were lucky to come out on top. With Beth in Gatlinburg on a golf trip with girlfriends, I had a few people over after the game. We had times. That’s about it.

I am looking forward to the Georgia game this weekend. I may make a huge pot of chili to bring in this cold weather. UFC on Saturday night. I will have to roll in to Buffalo Wild Wings a little early to get a good seat Saturday night. Come over and I will save you a spot. See you around.

P.S. Jess, I apologize for not calling you on your birthday. I hope you had a great one!

UFC Me

We have made it to the most boring part of the year. There are the remnants of the College Baseball World Series and as soon as Louisville is eliminated (unless they win) so will be all my interest in baseball for the rest of the season. I’ll take that back. You might catch me watching the Reds play when Homer Bailey is pitching. On Saturday, Brandon dutifully reminded me of how many days until the college football season begins. He said we were 76 days from the first of September. That, of course, was Saturday at Buffalo Wild Wings.

Buffalo Wild Wings was the same as always, yet, different. Excuse me while I elaborate.

I am used to the different types of crowds that congregate there for different sporting events. With UK basketball games, there is a sea of blue with a common cause. For college football, there is a vast array of colors determined by the television schedule. Good luck finding Waldo that day. For NFL games, there is the same array of colors, yet there is more trash-talking going on between the patrons. All of which makes me laugh. No one, unless you are sitting at my table, can guess who I am cheering for. NFL apparel is just too ugly for me to wear. I think they were the lone sponsor of Zubaz pants.

BW3’s has a slightly different feel when they are showing the UFC pay-per-views. There is occasional cheering when the pace of the fight gets heavy, but most of the time it is pretty quiet. There is zero—and I mean zero—trash-talking. Ever watch UFC? These guys aren’t always ripped, i.e. Chuck Liddell. Who knows who is an amateur mixed martial artist? Someone may take your trash-talking and shove it where you sit.

Brandon likes to point out that the sport requires no athletic ability. I retorted with the question of the last time you got in a fight or wrestled with someone (Joel, I swear we were tied 2-2) how did you feel after 45 seconds. Extremely winded? Seeing stars? A little dizzy? These guys fight for three 5-minute rounds. No way do I know anyone who could handle that without immense training. Don’t worry. He also considered Lance Armstrong to be a non-athelete.

Anyway, the UFC fights were crap. Pretty boring fights, except for the Clay Guida/Tyson Griffin fight. Imagine Scott Stapp from Creed fighting a younger, clean-cut, Ken Shamrock. Not a fight, I would say, but in the words of Captain Teneille on Most Extreme Elimination, “Well you’re wrong!” Really, though, the whole thing sucked. The main event between Okami and Franklin ended in a bogus decision for the American, Franklin, after the most boring fight ever. If two counter-strikers are billed together, skip it. They are both just sitting there waiting for the other to throw a punch. Snooze fest.

“Look man, I gotta go!” --Donny Baker