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Stadium, Shmadium — Somebody Get Me Another Beer

I feel I should apologize in advance. Today’s entry may not make a lot of sense.

(Yeah, yeah, I know — how could it possibly make less sense than usual, without being written in Sanskrit or Esperanto or something, right? Smartass.)

Anyway, I usually try to minimize the noise and distractions while I’m writing — and I’m sure you appreciate the full commitment I make to crafting this drivel, really — but today, it’s just not possible. You see, we’ve got friends coming over for dinner, and to watch the Patriots game, so after six o’clock or so, I’ll be out of blogging range for the rest of the night. And before six, I’ll be getting ready for the visitors, cleaning up the house and putting on pants and vacuuming the dog, that sort of thing.

So, I’m blogging now, while I have some time before the flurry of activity tonight. However, right now, there’s also a Syracuse basketball game on, and I simply can’t miss that. I’ve been a rabid Orangemen fan for many years now (for reasons that aren’t fully clear to anyone, but that I once tried to explain within these pages). So I’m blogging — slowly — but in the meantime, I’m clapping, and cursing, and ‘Woo-hoo‘-ing while Syracuse takes on Boston College.

(Speaking of BC, I do want to say that I’ve fully supported the home team since I’ve been here in Boston — except when they’re playing the ‘cuse, of course. I rooted for Pitt for the seven years i was living in ‘the ‘burgh’, and egged on Boston College once I moved to New England. But now that cheering is over for good. As a friend of mine would say, ‘Boston College is DTM — dead to me.‘

See, since I’ve been an Orangemen fan for all of my adult life, plus a little, I’ve also become a big Big East fan. So when Georgetown, or UConn, or Villanova, or Seton Hall, goes out there and plays a non-Big East team, I cheer them on, too. Naturally, I want my team to do well — but it’s also important for the conference to have success, as well. At least, in my world, it’s important. My world’s funny that way — your mileage may most certainly vary.

Anyway, last year Boston College decided, along with a couple of other traitorous bitch-ass schools, to leave the Big East for the ACC. (I forget what ‘ACC’ stands for — I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Asshatted Conference-raiding Cocksuckers’… but I could be wrong. Seems like that would be tough to fit on a T-shirt, for one thing.) As far as I can tell, the decision is fully money-driven, and has more to do with football and that cluetarded BCS thingy than it has to do with academics, or geography, or any sense of tradition.

So Boston College can go suck a basketball. I don’t fully wish them ill will yet — they’re still contributing to Big East rankings for a few more months — but when they make the move to the ACC next year, I hope they don’t win a fucking game for the next ten years. Stick that in your money-grubbin’ pipes and smoke it, BC. Hopefully, Syracuse will still schedule them as an out-of-conference game and wipe the damned floor with them a few times. That would make me extremely happy.

Speaking of happy, the ‘cuse just went on a 21-0 run in the first half, to pretty much demoralize the BC squad. Serves you right, assbags! Damn, do I love college basketball!)

All right — that’s probably enough of that. Most of you don’t really care about such things, and those that do probably don’t hold quite the same opinions as I do, anyway. So no more about the state of college basketball today. Just realize that I’m not really paying a whole helluva lot of attention to what I’m writing, so cut me some extra slack, ‘kay? ‘Kay.

So. On to other matters. I can finally feel my toes again, which is nice. And unexpected, frankly — after walking six blocks in three degree weather after work last night to get to the car, I honestly wasn’t sure I’d ever have tingles in my piggies again.

(Hey, does that work as a vague sexual euphemism? ‘Tingles in my piggies’? Hmmm. Yeah, maybe not. Might work to describe accidentally peeing on your foot, but probably no good as an alternative to ‘bumping uglies’.

What? Oh, right, like you people never get careless and piddle on your loafers. Come on, ‘fess up — you’ve been there. Don’t give me that look.)

But my feet finally thawed out, and I’m even something approaching ‘warm’ today. Mind you, I haven’t left the damned house, nor do I plan to. It’s brutal out there — it’s supposed to be, like, four out there tonight. Not forty, mind you, or even fourteen, but four. I can count up to the temperature today in four languages — now that’s when you know it’s fricking cold. That’s crotch-freezing weather, people. Noses and ears and shit fall off when it’s four piddly degrees — to say nothing of the negative-number wind chills we’ve got around here this week. We’re talking ‘Frosty Nipples of Hardened Steel’ here. And not in a good way, either.

I’ll tell you what really amazes me about the weather, though — I know of several tens of thousands of people who are going to be outside in this shit for hours today, watching the Patriots and Titans in their playoff game down in Foxboro.

A buddy of mine is going to the game — right now, at around four in the afternoon, he’ll just be getting there and setting up the tailgating grill. He’ll stand outside, in the four degree elements — did I mention it’s fricking four degrees out there? — for the next four hours, munching on chilly chicken wings and wolfing down wienersicles.

(Okay, now there’s one — ‘wolfing down wienersicles’. Yeah, I am so writing that one down.

Oh. Wait. I just did. Twice. Yeah, look, never mind. Hey, I said I was distracted today. Deal.)

Anyway, then my buddy and thirty thousand of his closest frostbitten friends will shuffle their frozen asses into the stadium, and sit there for three more hours, watching the game. And then, if their buttflesh hasn’t permanently been flash-frozen to their chairs, they’ll begin the long trek through the tundra back to their cars. Poor bastards.

Well, I say, more power to them. I mean, I love football and all, but I’m also pretty fond of my fingers and toes — not to mention Mr. Winkiepoo — and I’m not about to put them at risk for eight hours or more in a damned deep freeze, just for an NFL game.

(Syracuse… maybe. If I could find a crotch-sized space heater and a team of technicians to keep it on target the whole time. I’m not taking any chances, you understand.)

Okay, that’s about enough for today. The Orangemen just closed out an easy win over the Benedict Arnold Academy… er, I mean, Boston College, and the football’s about to start. I’m gonna wrap this up, change the channel, and settle in for eight hours or so of NFL action. From my couch, where football was meant to be watched. Of course, I might still try and find that crotch-warmer. Cold or not, that sounds like fun. Go Pats!