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!

L S WHO?

You asked for it now you are going to get it. Fortunately (or unfortunately) you are receiving the abridged version of the events that transpired on October 13, 2007 in Lexington, KY. The entire account of what is to be told may or may not be the truth, but they are, in fact, the truths as I remember them. This tale is not for the faint of heart. Please use extreme caution as you read. You have been warned.

7:30 AM All are awakened at 2533 Island Pond. “All” includes Beth, cats, and myself. I shower, shave, dress, and pack the car with the necessities. I was a little foggy-headed from the ten beers I consumed the night before. Hey, it was Midnight Madness. Beth was ready in record time.

8:10 AM We leave said address and make our way to the game. We stop at Speedway on New Circle for a bag of ice, a coffee (for Beth), and a mineral water for my re-hydration regime. The line at the cash register is long. The cashier asks if I have a Speedy Rewards card. I tell her no and I am heckled by the crack heads (literally) behind me for not having one. I ask myself two things: (Why do I feel uneasy every time I am inside the New Circle Loop (except for downtown)? And why aren’t these crack heads sleeping it off right now?

8:30 AM We arrive at our tailgating location. It is significantly more crowded at this time than the Florida Atlantic game two weeks earlier with a 2 ½ hour earlier game time. There are a lot of purple and yellow dressed tailgaters. Not a concern, just a little ticked there aren’t more dedicated UK fans with as much enthusiasm. We set up our tailgating spot.

8:40 AM Brandon calls to tell us he will be there around 8:55 AM. He uses his child as an excuse to be late. No one buys it. Fellow tailgater, Lindsay, arrives. Nothing more significant to report other than the ridicule I receive for wearing Carhart coveralls while trying to stay warm. It is all of 45° F with no sun shining in our vicinity. This is the first time I am called a redneck by my wife.

8:50 AM Beth takes MY gloves I brought to keep MY hands warm. Good thing I brought two pairs of gloves. Beth has her hood pulled over her head. With her sunglasses on, I tell her she looks like the Unabomber. She replies again that I look like a redneck. Lindsay puts on a winter coat from the trunk of her car and has her hands shoved down the front pockets of her jeans. They are cold. I am smiling and warm. More LSU fans start to arrive.

9:00 AM Brandon arrives.

9:05 AM I tell Brandon the last episode of South Park was hilarious. He does not find it so amusing because he is a huge Bono fan. No surprise. I fire up the grill. Sausage links and pancakes are on the morning menu. More LSU fans start to arrive and this group is drinking liquor. The UK fans at the end of the parking lot have a huge sound system. I hear Johnny Cash’s version of “My Old Kentucky Home” for the first time. I am grooving on it.

9:30 AM Brandon commences in the partaking of Bud Light. The sausages are cooked and the first pancake is just starting in the pan. All is good. LSU fans are chatty.

9:35 AM I am receiving plenty of criticism from the people for whom I am cooking pancakes and they offer plenty of advice, but no one seems to willing to bang this hooker, they are content just holding her legs. I explain to them my plight of their incessant whining and willingness to do nothing. They are quieted. The first pancake comes off the grill and it is a huge success. Beth re-iterates that I look like a redneck.

10:30 AM The pancakes are all but a memory and a full belly. I help Brandon to clean up round one of cooking. We debate asking the older LSU fans tailgating beside us if they would like some pancakes. We decide not to offer. We both agree LSU sucks. I agree to start drinking after 11 AM. Some guy from some charity bums some money from us for a worthy cause and gives us some nifty UK hats. Score. But the guy calls me redneck, but it’s okay because he calls Brandon a child molester. Cornhole boards come out. The LSU fans are amazed at the game and the name. Oh, the novelty. The first game it was Beth and I versus Lindsay and Brandon. Good guys win. (Yeah, that’s me and Beth, you A-hole.)

11:00 AM The LSU guys tailgating beside us ignore their wives and flirt with Beth and Lindsay. Brandon and I are discussing what we saw last night on television: Big Blue Midnight Madness, Hawaii is overrated, Colt Brennan is not, etc. We hear Johnny Cash’s “My Old Kentucky Home” for the third time. It’s getting old. My coveralls come off and Beth still calls me a redneck.

11:15 AM I forgot to get a beer (Busch Lite) at 11 AM. No rush. I am easy like Sunday morning. Another cornhole game breaks out. The good guys win again. Our parking lot is getting quite crowded with an even ratio of UK to LSU fans with one Buckeye wearing a Ted Ginn, Jr. jersey. Talk about out of place. Buckeyes…sheesh.

12:30 PM I have about 4 beers in me. I see an old fraternity brother from college with his chick who happens to live down the street from us. They chat for a minute and tell us they will be back in a while. Lindsay comes back from the port-a-potty with a tale that will make you shout EEWWWWW!. As she was hovering, her sunglasses fell into the hole of doom. There was no rescue attempt, only a sad face. Lindsay cursed her Asian ancestry. Good thing for her I had a pair of back-up sunglasses. There is a rough looking LSU fan passed out under the tree in front of my car. He had been drinking bottles of Icehouse since we had been there. He looked like he needed a nap.

1:00 PM Brandon, along with several others, are taking pictures of the passed out LSU fan with their cell phones. My buddy that stopped by earlier is coming back with a jar of what looks like gasoline. Yep, moonshine. He gets Brandon to take a pull. Brandon swears it is good. I take a pull. Tastes like apple juice, not bad. I noticed where he was tailgating. He was with a group from Mt. Sterling. I recognized a group of girls there. One happened to be an ex-girlfriend. Awkward. Not really. That just meant we wouldn’t combine the tailgating parties. I didn’t care. Eight beers gone. They are starting to taste like water. JC’s “Old Kentucky Home” for the 6th time. Hate it. We fire up the grill again for some chilidogs. The older LSU fans beside us ask if they could use some of the grill surface for their hotdogs. No problem. We find out these guys not only brought hotdogs to eat while tailgating without a grill, they didn’t bring buns or any condiments. What?

1:30 PM The hotdogs were awesome. Everyone is starting to get right. I suddenly find myself in a great deal of pain that seems to be emanating from my chest. Beth has reached up to grab my shirt to demonstrate something to Lindsay and pulled out no less that 100 of my chest hairs. Brandon who seems to think this is funny asks if Beth did it “like this”. He rips out about 200 more. No joke. I would have banged my beer can off of his forehead if it had not been half full of beer. I hate alcohol abusers. But, I shake it off and he apologizes and says he didn’t mean to do it that hard. He does this a lot when he drinks—over-exaggerates physical actions so when he demonstrates something, it really hurts. Just like it did originally, I am sure. Whatever. I will get him back someday.

2:00 PM I clean everything up and pack up what all goes in my car except for the necessities, i.e. cooler and chairs. This way, I can concentrate on boozing for the next hour before the game. I have somehow struck up a conversation with the LSU fan that was passed out under the tree. He bums a beer from me and asked me if I want a “smack”. Not sure what this was, I smoothly said, “HUH?” He holds out a can of Kodiak. Oh, no thanks. I am a Fresh Cope man, myself. He mumbles a lot, then, I just take off walking like I am going to the bathroom to lose him.

2:30 PM It works for about 30 minutes. He comes back. We start putting away everything else to get ready to walk over to the stadium. He wanders off back to his own crowd. I am catching hell from all sides for talking to the guy. I admit, it was not my greatest moment. I apologize to the crowd. Where is my beer?

3:00 PM We head to the game. Of course, we stop by the port-a-potties. Moving on. There is a lot of purple and yellow. Brandon and I down two beers before going in to the game. I have hit my magical number, 12. All is right.

*I am not going to discuss what events are transpiring on the field. You should have watched the game. I will discuss anything significant that happened in the stands.

First Quarter The game is tense. We score first. All is still right. There is a father and son pair of LSU fans in front of us. They are from Kentucky, they tell us. I don’t get it. The kid is fired up. He yells “Geaux Tigers!” over and over. At first, it is funny. UK 7-0.

Second Quarter LSU gets a little lead on us. No one is out of it. The adolescents behind us are rowdy. They are cussing up a storm. Their dad is quiet, but he does give me high fives along with his kids when we score. Quiet drunk, I guess. “Geaux Tigers” is getting old. LSU 17-14.

Third Quarter LSU is owning us. They score again making it 24-14. Brandon says he is leaving if LSU scores again before we do. Many times he says, it’s not looking good. I rebuff him and tell him it is still early. LSU gets a field goal, 27-14. Brandon does not leave. Cats finally score again. 27-21, bad guys. The stadium is louder than any other game to which I have ever been witness. “Geaux Tigers” has lost his voice. Awesome.

Fourth Quarter We drop two field goals on them to tie it up. And the game slips into overtime.

*To spare you the suspense and you know what happened, I will fill you in on the post game activities.

Cats win 43-37 in triple overtime. “Geaux Tigers” looked like someone’s whipping boy. As soon at the game was over, there was an eerie moment of silence and disbelief. That lasted all of two seconds. I was jumping up and down. A lot of folks weren’t sure that Hester didn’t get the first down. I saw him hit hard as soon as he hit the line of scrimmage and I knew there wasn’t enough forward momentum to carry him for two more yards. Cats win, baby! It was pandalerium, to say the least. (I know that it not a word.)

The goal posts were lowered quickly by the field crew to keep them from being torn down. Fans, slowly, started trickling over the wall and onto the field. Somewhere, Lee Todd was crying—not out of joy, but out of the $50,000 fine for the fans on the field. People were randomly getting arrested for who knows what. It was a very surreal experience. We watched it for about ten minutes and then, we decided to make our way up the stands to get out. You could forget about trying to go down to exit. The grounds surrounding Commonwealth Stadium was nuts. It took us about fifteen minutes to get back to the car and once in the car, it took us about 30 minutes to get back home.

No joke, I was in bed before 11PM. I was worn out from the beer, food, and excitement. All was right.

Let's do it all again this week for Florida. ESPN College Gameday will be in the house. Tailgating at 8AM!

Legs and Feet

Where to start? Somewhere where I left off, I guess, would be the logical point. Okay. Three weekends ago, we went to Louisville for Paige’s 30th birthday celebration. She had reserved the house bar in this cool Irish joint called O’Shea’s. It was a really neat scene. Imagine A1A if it were decorated entirely as an Irish bar. Yep, it was that big. There were quite a few people there I hadn’t seen in a while. It was good to play catch-up with those folks. The #'s1 and 1a questions asked were: “Do you have any kids?” and “When are you going to have kids?”

What do you say to people when they ask you that? I preferred the smart-arsed answers like, “No, no kids. We are practicing with cats right now and it’s not looking good. They are both fat and home alone.” That would be strike one and two if you asked me. I can see why the conversations didn’t go much farther. I wonder why people don’t like me?

Really, we had a pretty good time. David bin Speeden was working on his angel wings. Driving 12 people around Louisville on such a festive occasion couldn’t have been that fun, nor self-rewarding. Do I see a name change to David bin Chaufeurin’ on the horizon? Paige walking down Baxter Avenue barefoot was the best part of the night. No doubt.

Two weekends ago, we traveled to Wiley Fork in Knott County to a double-deuce birthday party thrown for Unit 899’s fiancé, Alex. There was a ton of food, good food, mind you, and guitars flying around everywhere. I ran a grill that was the foundation of the mountain behind Joel’s place. There was a dancing contest--shopping cart, lawn sprinkler, flying squirrels, and such. Joel and Tim Skinny had the late night concert on the back porch that was too much or too late—take your pick.

I’m not sure if you guys have ever seen the movie, Snatch. If you have, I will refer you to the gypsies(Brad Pitt's character) and their dialect of cockney English. There was a guy there named Eugene who, it seemed, was a construction foreman. Eugene spoke American Hillbilly cockney, so think of Farmer Fran from of The Waterboy. When I heard Eugene talking on the back porch, I went in the house to get Beth to listen to this guy. He was telling a story about this migrant worker who was reporting to him on a job site. The guy must have tried to take a shortcut on the job orders and must have messed something up. Eugene was explaining how he gave the guy the down-the-road for what he did. Of the five minutes the story lasted, I really only understood the phrase “legs and feet”. Apparently Eugene was telling the poor guy that they didn’t hire him for his brain or managerial skills, they hired him for his legs and feet. Makes sense to me.

Following that long night at McCool’s. The next day we had a birthday party and the Lost Creek plantation for my grandma’s 80th birthday. Almost everyone in the family was there. The only problem was the heat and flatulence. Yes, you heard me and it didn’t come from any of the folks who came from the shindig on Wiley Fork either, as one would naturally assume. Beth and I were sitting at a table in the yard and my great aunt ____, trying to keep it as anonymous as possible, had just walked up in front of us and BAM! Right in our faces. We evacuated immediately, still in disbelief. We reported the incident only to find out that we weren’t the only victims in the needless and merciless gas attacks from this individual.

Other than being shat on, the day was pretty cool. It was really nice to see the whole family again, just like we will again in October. You think this event would have sufficed for the family reunion, but no. Moving on…

The next day, I had to go to Cambridge, Maryland to a conference for work. They put us up in a swank resort. Nice. It seems like they fed us crab three meals a day. I wasn’t complaining while I was there, but I think I am a little burned-out on crab meat for a while. I had the experience of shelling steamed crab. Some friends my co-worker and I had met while at the conference, schooled us in the art of shelling crabs. Long story short, it takes about three Budweisers to shell a crab. Oh yeah, if you are ever at a reception where you are given a limited number of tokens for free drinks, tip the bartender a dollar with each token. You may get some of the tokens back.

If I didn’t hear from you on this past Friday, then shame on you for not calling me on my birthday. It was uneventful, yet, very satisfying. I took the day off from work to get some errands done, i.e. tires rotated, oil change, car wash, etc. Once Beth got home from work, we had an early dinner with my parents at Malone’s. It was a great dinner. Thanks Daddio! We shopped around for a new computer at the new Best Buy location in Hamburg for two hours. Stopped at Meijer’s to buy some tailgating necessities for the next day. I think I was in bed asleep by 10 p.m. See, uneventful.

Saturday, of course, was UK’s first home game and they were pitted against the mighty Colonels from EKU. I'll get into more of that later. It took us a while to find a tailgating spot, but once we found a great place, we did gate some tail. Brandon broke out the grill. There were burgers and dogs, veggies and dip, cold beer, and salt and vinegar potato chips, if you could wrestle them from Beth. Everyone was abuzz with the news of Appalachian State, last year’s Division 1, AA champions, located in Boone, NC (not to be confused with Grundy, Virginia’s Appalachian School of Law) with the enrollment of a little over 15,000, thank you, defeating Michigan at Ann Arbor earlier in the day.

By game time, there was excitement in the air as well as the anticipation of the unknown. What was the real story with UK? Two minutes into the game, we knew the Cats' first loss wouldn’t come at the hands of EKU. Maybe next week with Kent State? Doubt it, but who knows? We will see you there. My advice for Rich Brooks is that he had better take it one game at a time.

I have to go for now. I am half-promising more frequent posts once we get a new computer. I know there has been some serious slacking. Dennis and Jo Anne, keep those Mountaineers going. I don’t think they hear me cheering in Lexington. I’ll catch you later and leave you guys with the most popular quote after the game: “If something happens to Woodson, Kentucky is SCREWED!”