Everything Is Coming Up Roses

It’s not the national championship, but there’s no real shame in going to the Rose Bowl.

Yesterday the Buckeyes all but sewed up going to Pasadena on the first day of 2008. I know – you’re thinking this is a sports thing and why am I even chatting about it. I can hear you out there ya know!

It wasn’t as much about the game or the outcome as it was spending the afternoon with two friends watching the game.

Tom G – whom has been mentioned many a-time here – was coming to Cleveburgh to watch the game with his ‘special friend’ (not me). I got an invite to join. It turns out it was just at a gay bar we were going to. Oh well. How bad could it be at 12 noon on a Saturday?

Tom doesn’t need to prompt me to not act my age, but it’s nice to have the encouragement.

He is the master of the prop – be it for parties, story telling, sporting events or the possibility of stalking a porn star (that’s another post). Jack (his ‘special friend’) wanted us to wear tiaras, but instead we traded the above homemade headband. You might have to click the enlarge the image (camera phone, no flash and bad lighting) to see what it is. Go ahead – sound it out. It’s like live pictionary.

Each time we were not in possession of the ball, one of us was required to wear it. We did it willingly and proudly. Oddly enough – we did not get one look from the other patrons. With the pom-poms (g-d, they smelled like my high school gym locker, but worse!) and noisemaker, we tried to draw attention – but to little success.

The Woody cap is mine. It’s my second. Morty got me my first when I was in the hospital with my appendix. I wore that thing all the time, it fit like a second skin. I lost it a dozen or so years ago when Tom and I went to the OSU – Michigan State game in East Lansing (home to one of my most favourite Tom G stories!). I left it at the hotel in a post-drunken stupor. The hotel claims to have never have found it – but you know they just tossed it when they saw the Block O.     Fuckers!

Putting on the headband, I told the crew I felt like Patty Duke. Jack asked if I meant ‘Cathy’, but no….it was Patty and I told him it was because ‘a hot dog makes me lose control’. I love when I never ever have to explain my jokes to people.

After the game, we hung out and I dropped money in the jukebox. I love taking over the music at a place where Whitney Houston is the standard. Ick. They had an ok selection, but I made it better just by my choices: Garbage, the Smiths, Eurythmics, Weezer & a few others.

While making the selections, I had to endure Russ. No, I don’t know him. Just a bar patron who decided to come up and ask me what my favourite songs and bands were. …and then how he should leave because he had just broken up with someone who was expected at the bar and how he shouldn’t be there….or should he just not run away. Oy. I felt like I was pseudo-being hit on and yet asked to be Ann Landers. I wanted neither. Double Oy.

But on this cold, rainy day – I took in warmth by just being with friends.

Song by: Black

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