So, my friend TinaDoris had tickets to the football game, and she IMd me at work.
(Dear Work,
Usually TinaDoris and I keep our noses to the grindstone. Love, June. Worky June.)
"Would Ned want tickets to the NC State game this Saturday?" she asked, knowing that's where Ned went to school and knowing he likes him the sports things.
"I'll ask," I wrote back, then returned to work because HELLO FAKE WORK. Please hire me back full time. Thanks.
Also, how lazy are TinaDoris and me? We work in the same OFFICE. On the same FLOOR. But God forbid we get up and have a conversation directly. I'd love to make a comment now like, "No wonder TinaDoris has an ass the size of Guam," but in fact she has a cute figure and you kind of want to hate her for being all young and thin. I think she gave us the tickets because she had a metabolism convention or something.
My point is, Saturday dawned here in North Carolina and I did what I so often do--I got ready for a day of footballing. When Ned asked if I wanted to go, I said, "Sure. Now, where do we go to get someone to buy for us?"
"What?"
"Well, the LAST time I went to a football game, I was a senior in high school, and before football games you always go to 7-Eleven or whatever and stand there till someone looks nice, then ask them to buy beer for you. Where do we go here to do that?"
"Just be ready at noon, June."
Even more exciting than being able to buy our own beer was the part where we were meeting one of Ned's oldest friends there. I had heard about this guy 10,934 times and was dying to see him in personal. Did I ever tell you about the time that prisoner wrote me and said he wanted to get to know me in personal? It's a whole other STORY about a whole different DAY, so why don't you leave me alone and let me tell the story at hand?
GOD.
So we get to the restaurant where we're meeting Ned's friend, and before we walked in, this bearded, chaming guy says, "Ned!"
It was another friend of Ned's, who I have also heard about, and he starts to hug Ned but then he sees me and comes over and embraces me like I was his sweet embraceable his.
"I love the stuff you write on Facebook!" he says, still hugging me. I loved that guy. I know I am weird about the hugs, but that's just when it's some old friend who I actually KNOW hugging me. If it's some stranger who might be a trifle drunk I'm fine with it.
What do you mean, "therapy"?
Anyway, loved that guy. He thanked me for making Ned a--I can't remember. He said something like thanks for making an honest man out of Ned or thanks for humping Ned or some such thing. All I know is everyone I have met who knows Ned seems to love the shit out of Ned and really care about his well-being, which to me is a good sign about Ned. Don't you think?
Once the drunk guy left, Ned's regularly scheduled friend showed up, and he was funny and Southern and just delightful. We went in the friend's car, and his 11-year-old son was along with us, and guess who knew a lot more about football than me. Was it that 11-year-old? Was it, in fact, every human within a 10-mile radius?
Let me tell you what about football games. At Arthur Hill High School, you just pulled up in Steve Feit's Chevette, hid your beer under a jacket in the hatch, and walked right in. Not so much with the college football. It took us 11 thousand hours to get to our parking place, and yes, we had a designated parking place.
And the other thing? Seriously, dawgs. Every.human.being.there. had on red. Red. I felt my BLOOD PRESSURE go up. It was like the whole afternoon had been heavily copy edited. Red. Lots of red.
Ned, who did NOT have on red, and I got out the car and went to the back of his friend's SUV, where Doritos and Dr Pepper and Budweiser were served, and I totally watched snobby Ned drink a Budweiser like it was good.
Did you know cans of Budweiser have a little crown on them now? "Why do you think that's there?" asked Ned, who has never in my presence had beer that wasn't black as night. "The King of BEERS," I said, being from Michigan.
God.
Ned quickly segued to black as pitch beer and all felt right with the world. Then we went in to our sporting event.
Okay.
First of all, this team Ned likes? They are the wolfpack, one word, and every EIGHT SECONDS they had the fakest wolf cry you've ever heard coming over the speakers, there.
"That is the fakest wolf cry ever invented," I said, over the WOOOOO-HO-HO-HOOO! "Have you HEARD a lot of wolves howling?" asked Ned, who doesn't know from anything because YES, in fact I HAVE. When I still lived in my home town, the zoo had a wolf and when the noon church bells rang, he always threw his head back and howled. I worked right near there so I'd make a point of going to lunch a little before noon, and I'd STAMPEDE over to the zoo parking lot to listen. I freaking loved that wolf.
Guess who was sorry he asked.
At any rate, Ned kind of explained to me how football went.
I had seen these things before when I watched the Super Bowl with a bunch of gay guys back in LA. We were all about the food and commercials and no one there knew from football whatsoever. "What're those ORANGE things?" someone asked. We all decided those were the restroom keys, so you wouldn't take the key with you.
I had told this to Ned a long time ago, and when he explained football to me, he kept saying, "So the restroom key is over there, and..."
Mostly the whole time he was talking I kept thinking, "Ned is so cute. I like Ned. How long do we have to sit here before I can get Ned into a room and make out with him?"
So, football. Learned a lot.
The good news is, there is an intermission thing and you get to go back out to your car and drink.
They give you this pink card to take with you so you can get back in to your sporting event. It's a Mothers Against Drunk Driving card, and you take this with you while you drink at your car, then stumble back in to your sports and red people.
I saw a LOT of drunk college girls, is what I did. Two were crying, several were doing that "I can barely hold my eyes open and it's 3 p.m." thing while they talked loudly to boys, and ONE was being held by the arm and led to the bathroom. I feel like that wasn't gonna end pretty.
Here's the thing. I was often drunk in college. But I always maintained. Maybe that's not something to be proud of, but I am nonetheless. Drunk as hay on the inside, maintaining on the outside.
It was a really lovely day, by the way, sunny and 70. By the second part, the sun had gone down and it was chilly all of a sudden. "Wow, it's like we just crossed the equator," I said, loving myself.
Ned paused. "You know, it'd still be hot if you were crossing the equator."
"I KNOW that," I said, "I was being, you know, funny. Maybe I should have said it's like we crossed into another hemisphere."
"Or, it's like the sun went down."
Why do I like Ned?
Anyway, they won, Ned's team did, and he thanked me, like, 40 times for going. It was really fine. There were plenty of people to stare at, and I was RIVETED by the cheerleaders. First of all, you better make sure you are UP TO DATE on your waxing if you're gonna be a cheerleader. And secondly, wouldn't you be SCARED to have people TOSSING you about like that? You could break your NECK. Jesus.
I guess that's all I have to say about football, except I think when you pick a team, you should make sure you look good in whatever their colors are. Are there any pink teams? Cause I look good in pink.
Sportingly,
June
