I’d rather laugh with the [Lions] than cry with the Saints.
Now, granted, the Saints probably aren’t crying. The Saints are probably very happy. Who doesn’t want to win in the playoffs, after all? But let’s be honest. Lions fans, it was a great season. It was a winning season.
Now, you might be asking why the hell I’m writing about football. Well, while as you all know, I’m all about hockey, this year, I was equal opportunity with my sports. Ish.
Basketball is still stupid.
One of my favorite things about football this year was the championship games. What a great way to end the season, and start a new year, than DRINKING, and PIZZA, and FRIENDS, and A LOT OF MEN RUNNING INTO A LOT OF OTHER MEN.
But namely, the drinking and the friends.
I ended up going to Pep’s for the Sugarbowl. Now granted, I’m not all college obsessed like some Michiganders are (Like Captain is with U of M for example), but I will still cheer for a team from Michigan over a team from Virginia.
And I will drink while I cheer. We remember how cause and effect works.ANYWAY. The Sugarbowl get together was the brainchild of NeighborGirl’s. I made new friends, drank some, and later learned that Macy was sitting probably around 25 feet away from me. SMALL WORLD.ANYWAY.About a week after the Sugarbowl, NeighborGirl texted me for another football gathering. The Lions were in the playoffs, and she was meeting people at Pep’s again. Was I in?Let me answer you with this:
NeighborGirl decided it was time to go to a different venue. Translation: the lions are losing, and we need somewhere new to drink. I head for my car first to charge my phone then run over to the bar. Things get blurry at this point.
When we were still at Pep’s, NeighborGirl was joined by a friend of hers who had come to the Sugarbowl party too. He seemed nice, and obviously into NeighborGirl. I mean, he came out to meet up with her and her friends. Twice. And he was really ONLY talking to NeighborGirl. Then watching the game. Then watching her. Even though I’m clearly not good at love and relationships and all that (see the past three years of my life), I could even tell he was into her.
At one point when the Lions were still winning (I think I had just taken a shot at this point), I leaned over to him and asked, “Scale of 1 to 10, how in love with my friend are you?” At least, I think I whispered. It may have been a whisper-shout.
He gives me a look (proof of the whispershout), then holds up seven fingers.
“Seven?!” I’m still whisper shouting. He nods. I’m 95% sure and 105% embarrassed that I responded in this vein: “Why don’t you do something about it?!”
NeighborGirl, friends, and I are talking in Bar #2.
“[The man who is a “seven” on the how much do you love NeighborGirl scale] just came up to me and was like, ‘NeighborGirl, I’m going to make out with you,'” NeighborGirl is telling us emphatically. “And I was like, ‘What?! No! What are you talking about?!'”
Ooooh, epic fail. That would be my bad. Lesson learned. Don’t make any interactions involving friends and men and making out while drinking. And probably don’t tell NeighborGirl about this.
I’m dancing with NeighborGirl’s friend, the one that I facebook friended so immediately.
I’ve set down my purse because it feels really heavy. I keep looking over at it to make sure no one steals it. Then I keep telling people not to steal it. I’m amazed at my level of commitment to my bag. A guy comes up and is dancing with us. I think. I’m not sure. He’s in the general vicinity of us.
Then he leans over to me. “I KNOW YOU.”
My eyes widen. That’s never a good start to meeting someone at the bar.
“YOU’VE BEEN TO MY HOUSE.”
There is NO WAY this story will end well.
I’m scrutinizing this boy in the dim light of the bar. He does look vaguely familiar through my beer goggles.
“You used to date my teammate! Goalie!”
The ball drops. So does my jaw, I’m pretty sure.
Mystique, Macy, and I went over to this boy’s house sometime in 2010, back in the era of drank. The more I awkwardly stare, the more I remember this boy now. Macy had almost hooked up with him. Mystique, I think, had hooked up with his roommate and teammate. I talked to his friend, Goalie, for awhile, and we had a little fling before I realized that he was way too into me. Remember Goalie?
Well, drunk L.A. definitely did. And she definitely called Goalie FOUR TIMES to tell him that she ran into his teammate. Then proceeded to call the country singer, MusicMan…and then proceeded to call Security.
Hm. Well, at least the lions won. Except they didn’t. Well, at least we all had fun, right?