Orange Is Not the New Red and Black

Dear 8lb, 9oz, SEC-lovin' tiny Jesus in the manger,

Woooooeeeeee, Jesus! How about all of the awesome it is to be a Georgia Bulldog this season! Thank you for helping us send those crappy tigers back to the swamp with their tails between their legs! Today our blessed Bulldogs take on some Volunteers in orange (which to me sounds a lot like those prisoners who clean up trash on the side of the road) in some gross old place in Tennessee. I feel strongly you will help guide us victory, littlest lord.

Remember when Tennessee weekend used to be a big deal, Jesus? In college, I always spent a little extra time talking to you before this game! Now, well, I have to be honest. I don’t even know their coach’s name. I expect this is all a result of that one time Derek Dooley decided to be a big ole traitor and went to Knoxville for approximately 5 minutes. Now they're just another dumb team dressed in orange who doesn't know what their mascot is. *cough* Auburn *cough*

Speaking of mascots,  let’s just be honest here, tiny Christ. I know we’re supposed to love all of your creatures, and we do. But there’s just no way on Earth that Smokey is as good as Uga when it comes to mascots. That Russ is a handsome gentleman and could obviously whoop that coon dog’s hiney if he felt like getting off his bag of ice! And that wretched Rocky Top business. I'm sorry, little savior, but if Phish covers your fight song, you should probably just hang it up.

I really like to think Heaven looks a lot like Sanford Stadium around 9am on the morning of a noon game, Jesus. Not like Neyland Stadium, which I hear looks a lot like a garbage truck workers’ convention. I mean, it would make sense, Jesus. Remember when Lane Kiffen left and they burned trash in the streets to stop him? First, what kind of nasty rednecks burn trash? And second, who wants to keep Lane Kiffen anywhere?

Bless over our boys in red and black this week, baby ruler of the Universe, and for the love of your sweet name, don't let us do that thing where we accidentally lose a game we shouldn't. Know that in honor of today's game, I will not be drinking Jack Daniels to avoid showing any support to state best known for...wait wait, Jesus, I can't even pretend I'm telling the truth right now. I guess Tennessee the state isn't all bad, but their crappy football team is, so let the Dawgs win today!

In your hobnail boot wearin' name we pray,

Amen.

And GO DAWGS!

Cajun is French for Corndog

Dear 8lb, 90z, tiniest little Georgia-loving Jesus,

Thank you for another glorious Saturday in Athens, lordlet! And thank you for that sweet victory over North Texas last week! Today, the Bulldogs take on another team of Tigers, Jesus, and we come to you asking for a better outcome than that first go’round!

First of all, Jesus, Baton Rouge (really, they can’t think of a better name for their city than Red Stick??) is just the grossest! It’s like all the rednecks in France got kicked out by the sophisticated folks and fled to Louisiana. Have you ever met snobby white trash, Jesus? They're the worst! And they barely even speak English, which we all know was your native tongue. I mean, it's in the Bible, Jesus. You can’t just go around, inventin’ languages and stuff. Who spells it geaux? I mean, honestly. And they can call it a bayou all they want; fact is it’s a nasty old swamp! Speaking of which, have you ever even seen a tiger in a swamp, Jesus? I don’t think so. 

I’ll be honest, cause you said we should be, and admit I don’t know much about LSU, tiny monarch. I’ve heard the fans smell like corndogs and that just like the last stupid Tigers we played, they named their stadium after a place in another state. Not that I’d expect much from the people from a place where beads are accepted as currency for lewd behavior! Georgia should win just on our caliber of students alone, savior! And because purple is ugly.

This important battle also comes down to our coaches, little ruler of Heaven. Every week we devout Georgia fans look to Mark Richt (second only to you, of course) as our hero and our leader. Sure, he’s a little conservative, but at least he knows how to clap. And he doesn’t go around paying players and stuff. Or taking Nick Saban’s throw-away jobs. Or cheating on his wife. Or eating grass. (Really, Jesus, what is that all about?) Or taking on quarterbacks who treat ladies inappropriately! That Mettenberger, Jesus! Thank you for seeing to it that he not be allowed to continue his career as a Georgia Bulldog and for delivering Aaron Murray to us instead!

As we gather between our sacred hedges today, tiny savior, protect over our boys and lead us to victory over those crappy cajuns. Let there be long (caught) passes, lots of (forced) turnovers and long (touchdown) drives. Continue to keep us safe from injury, and out of trouble during the week. We thank you for making it so darn great to be a Georgia Bulldog, sweet Jesus!!!

In your comin’ down the track name we pray,

Amen.

And GO DAWGS!!

The Doucher Bowl, brought to you by Axe Body Spray and the Ford Mustang

Dear 8lb, 9oz, little Lonestar Jesus in the manger,

Today’s prayer is a little different, tiny Jesus. You saw fit to give our Dawgs a break this week, so I’m coming to you on behalf of SEC fans everywhere who are tired of being kicked around by bandwagon fans from Alabama. Today, I (and hopefully the rest of the Bulldog Nation) stand proudly behind Texas A&M as they take on those…wait, are they elephants...some red wave thing? Who knows! The point is that you said through you all things are possible. If the Aggies can do it once, they can do it again!

First of all, tiny lord, you CLEARLY told us that you’re the only dead guy we’re allowed to worship. This Bear Bryant thing, Jesus, I mean, it’s obviously blasphemy. And nobody’s cared more than Alabama fans about wearing a tacky pattern until Kim Kardashian left the house wearing a couch that one time. (http://thelaughingstork.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/kim-kardashian-couch-floral.jpg)

I get that Alabama is an OK school, Jesus. I mean, they have the highest graduation rate of MRS degrees in the country. And Tuscaloosa isn’t all bad…oh wait. Yes, yes it is. My point is, I guess it can’t be that terrible a place to go to school when I’ve seen such a huge increase in the number of folks sporting their gear since the National Championship... I can’t even imagine how they accommodate so many new students…

It’s not that I particularly care for Texas A&M, small ruler of the universe. They’re like, obsessed with the Alamo and teach bronco-busting in their institutions of higher learning. But this comes down to more than Johnny Manziel and his stupid autographs. This is about Alabama fans and the fact that the rest of us have to deal with them! Seriously, Jesus, THEY POISON TREES. Not that anyone gives a rat’s patootie about Auburn, but that's some shady business!

Bless over the Aggies today, Jesus, even if Johnny Manziel is a huge …hmm, I’m gonna need some help here, little savior. Normally I’d call him a douche, but I get that probably isn’t a prayer-appropriate word. How about this -  I have no idea what Gigging ‘Em entails, but as long as it’s not like twerking,  if you could see to it with all of your mighty ways that our pal Johnny Football is able to accomplish it, we would all greatly appreciate it.

Thank you for the SEC, Jesus. It is, as I’m sure you understand, the Alpha and Omega of college football. Forgive those who covet us, because I mean, really, can you blame them? Who wouldn't want to be a part of an institution that's won...wait, Jesus, I need to do some research here. Only Alabama fans exaggerate the number of National Championships they've won...

In your yellow rose lovin' name we pray,

Amen!

And just for good measure, GO DAWGS!

You Can't Spell Suck Without U.S.C.

Dear 8lb, 9oz, little, precious, Dawg-lovin’ savior,

Good morning Jesus, and Happy September Saturday. One of the most glorious kinds of Saturdays! Thank you for inventing them.

Well, Jesus, we Georgia fans are coming to you a little more humbly this week. Our hearts (and our ACLs) are hurting with sympathy for our Dawgs. But, the way I figure it, Jesus, you’re the biggest come-back kid I know, so I believe in my heart of hearts that you will help our boys pull out a victory today over those wretched chickens and their evil leader.

Can we just talk about Steve Spurrier for a second, tiny leader of Heaven? Far as I can tell, YOU’RE the only Head Ball Coach around this place…and the ENTIRE UNIVERSE. He’s just a big old arrogant commandment breaker (whichever one where you said don’t be a big dumb jerk!) And he THROWS things, Jesus! Can you imagine? A grown man, throwing a hat. And I hear he takes his clothes off at practice! Clearly all signs of a lunatic that should not be encouraged by a victory over our own chaste (and better looking with his shirt off) Coach Richt!

Also, I know last week I said orange was the worst thing you ever made, but that’s just because I forgot about Columbia. What kind of place wants to be the capitol of the state that didn’t even want to be a part of this great grand thing we call AMERICA?! That’s like saying you want to be in a conference outside of the SEC. WHO DOES THAT, Jesus?! Not the Bulldogs, I can tell you that much.

As we gather in Athens (second only to Heaven of the most important places ever), I ask that you watch over all those proudly wearing any variety of red and black, or silver britches. Thank you for our (remaining) Bulldogs, small lord. If you could please (like, really, all the PLEASEs) protect them for the rest of the season, we would really appreciate it. Also, if you could perhaps inspire Bobo with a little less running and a little more throwing, I bet your name would be screamed at TVs a lot less frequently this weekend.

In your nothin’-finer-in-the-land name we pray,

Amen.

And GO DAWGS!

PS. Thanks for that whole Tebow thing, by the way.

Lewis Grizzard called Clemson "Auburn with a lake."

Dear 8lb, 9oz tiny, perfect, football-inventing baby Jesus in the manger.

Ohmyyou Ohmyyou Ohmyyou!!! I just can’t believe it! Though as a Christian what with the whole miracles thing, I’m not sure why not… It’s FOOTBALL SEASON, Jesus!!! Today our long-loved and impatiently-awaited Bulldogs take on the Tigers (which I hear are really just glorified house cats) from some remote redneck land in South Carolina. I know you said we should love our neighbors and stuff, baby Jesus, but REALLY!

Oh man (made in your image), Jesus! Do you remember that time I almost went to Clemson? Thank you for showing me the light and seeing to it that I couldn’t find a bar for miles while I was touring their campus.  And all of that orange. Barf. Honestly, Jesus. Orange is sort of like your one big mistake. (Well, that and Tim Tebow, but I get that you guys have a thing.) I can’t think of a single good thing having to do with orange.  Just think - Florida, Tennessee, Auburn, and now these yahoos. GROSS!

Jesus, I reckon I don’t know much about folks outside the Gloryland of the SEC. I mean, why would I? But from what I understand, second only to the dumb-dumbs plowing their way through schools in Alabama, all the not so bright ones found their way to Clemson. I mean, they didn’t even name their own mascot, Jesus! And their stadium is named after a place ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY. I know you have your own special plan in place for them, little lord, but I sincerely pray that includes getting their hineys whooped by Georgia today! The only thing they really have going for them is that they hate Spurrier, too. But, it was your command that we hate Satan, so I hardly think they should get points for that.

Football season is an amazing time to be a Georgia Bulldog, tiny savior. Thank you for our beautiful campus, for lovely girls and handsome boys in their Saturday best, for fall afternoons at Sanford Stadium, for the chill bumps every Georgia fan feels when we hear that old bell ringing. Thank you for Coach Richt and all of our players. And for our mostly crime-free, uninteresting off-season. Hallelujah! And finally Jesus, thank you, (and this one might just be from me, but I feel like I represent a good number of Georgia fans so I feel ok saying it) for Jack Daniels.

Bless over our boys today, lordlet. May they have quick feet, sure hands and the strength of, well, Bulldogs! Please keep everyone safe from injury, even those stupid Tigers, and Jesus, if you could, remind us today why college football is the best darn thing on Earth.

In your sweet, soft, Southern-thrill-lovin’ name we pray.

Amen.

AND GO DAWGS!

You probably won't understand this because I'm not a parent...

Due to the on-the-fence nature of my feelings toward children, friends often send me blogs and buzzfeeds and articles about being a non-parent and what it means to make the choice to or to not have kids. One such blog has come to me on a couple of instances now, so I decided to write my own, non-trite version of it. Mostly I just wanted to do it with swear words.  Without further ado...

Things Parents Shouldn't Say to Non-Parents, as told by Jenn Ciccarelli


1. So when are you going to have kids?
The most honest answer I can give you on this one is that it's really none of your effing business. I mean, seriously, why do you want to know? I secretly think it's because the misery of motherhood wants more company, but this is just when you'll tell me how happy you are as a mother and how you just want to share in my joy with me. Not buyin' it. Also, what happens when you ask this of someone who wants children desperately but can't have them. You're a total asshole.

Even if I were sure about wanting kids, the when part of it is, when I'm ready. When I want to. When my significant other and I make the decision, together, to do so. Not when some random lady at the grocery store notices that I'm not 25 anymore and assumes I'm fighting a losing battle against an ovarian clock. When will I have kids? When I do. Go make your life interesting so you can stop worrying about mine.

2. You'll change your mind.
Y'all know how I feel about this one. It irks me more than the majority of things you could ever say to me for like, a million reasons. I'm 32 years old. As such, I've spent a pretty considerable amount of time with myself and my decisions are based on years worth of life that you don't know anything about. The balls with which others assume rights over my decision process are the biggest, most frustrating around. What certainty you have about what goes on inside my head! Do you think I'm going to be like, OMG, YOU ARE RIGHT! I'm going to go flush my birth control down the toilet RIGHT NOW? (I'm not. Leave me alone.)

The things is, perhaps I will change my mind. Then what? You'll be right? You'll have "I told you so" rights? Congratulations?

3. You don't know what you're missing.
This one is so much bullshit. Thank you for trivializing the choices I've made in my life with the assumption that unless I do what you do, my life in some way will end up less fulfilling. Honestly, what do you expect us to say when you say things like this? Because the only retort I've got for you, is going to hurt your feelings. Because there's no kind way to say...

"I've actually assessed everything about your situation and decided I can't think of a worse way to waste my time on this planet. I actually do know what I'd be missing. I'd be missing sleep. And the ability to lay in bed all morning. And adult television shows. And vacations to places like Iceland vs. places like Disney. I'd miss my body. My free time. The ability to come and go as I please and make my own choices and the freedom to just be me, forever."

The answer is...I'd miss everything. So stop for a second before you say this to a stranger and realize they've probably considered just about every angle of their choice and don't make us have to say something mean to you.

4. Little Junior sat up today. (Or crawled. Or ate solid food. Or discovered his own dick.)
Right. And the sun also rose and set. And scientific breakthroughs beyond our wildest imaginations occurred. And there might be life in space. And Gretchen from Real Housewives proposed to her boyfriend.

Ok, not the last one. But the point is, pretty much everything is more interesting to a non-parent, or, perhaps just me, but this is my blog, so I can generalize that it's everyone, than whatever pretty common milestone your little precious pea hit today. Seriously, on my Facebook alone, like, 15 kids learn to sit up every day.

In the universe that isn't centered inside your house, WAY COOLER SHIT HAPPENED so forgive me if I don't fall all over myself with excitement because you kid now does what 7 BILLION OTHER PEOPLE can do.

5. Is this party kid friendly?
No. Moving on.

6. Don't you think you'll regret it when you're old?
Fuck. Maybe? But who knows if I'll ever even be old. I could die before I finish this snarky blog post. Again. Assume I've probably considered this and if the answer were yes, I'd have kids. Seems fairly straightforward to me.

7. Isn't "this" cute?? (Whereby "this" is like, a monogrammed onesie or a diaper bag or some stuffed toy that you can program with your voice so Junior never gets lonely.)

No, actually, it's not really that cute. Sorry.

You know what's cute? Lambs. In Iceland. And not having kids means I get to go see them whenever I want.

PS. Quit taking pictures of your kids in fucking baskets. They are human beings, not dolls.

8. You know dogs aren't really kids right?
WHAT? NO? I HAD NO IDEA.

Ok, yes, idiot. I do know that dogs are not actually human children. It's just that since people are always talking to me about their kids (or about when I'm going to have some), I'm really just trying to relate to you in any lame way that I can. I'm glad my dogs aren't kids...cause then I'd have kids.

That said, my dogs are actually, totally human. ;)

9. You have no idea what being tired is like. (This one does not apply to working moms or single moms, cause y'all have the right to say you're more tired than me whenever you want. You are.)
Uhhhhh.....I never know what to say to this one either. Yes I do? I'm sorry, but you chose this life. You and all your mom friends at play group can talk about how tired you are. I guess the fact that I think my effing ass off the majority of the day is in NO way as exhausting as hours of Caillou and sing-a-longs. I also have to clean my house and do laundry and cook dinners and pay bills. Only, I don't have a "nap time" in which to accomplish these things. Don't be smug. It's annoying.

10. You just don't understand because you're not a mom.
Right. There are also things I don't understand because I'm not a rocket scientist. And I probably don't have many relatable experiences to say, a geneticist. And? You don't understand because you're not a marketer. Or because you're not Italian. Or because we're totally different effing people. We all have different life experiences and insides of our brains. No one can understand anything. Our "things" don't make us better. They just make us and I for one am sort of over the wars waged to make us feel lesser because we're making different choices.


And so I shall close with this. Please leave your non-parent friends, family and strangers alone. We're fine, we promise. And just think; it will give you more time to spend with those kids you want us to have so much.

I'm feeling twenty-two-ooh-ooh

In case you couldn't tell by how excitedly I've been talking about it lately, my birthday is Friday. I am turning 32. THIRTY. TWO. I'm not having conniptions about it or anything, but it's definitely the weirdest thing to ever happen to me.

Here's how it's working in my head.  I feel like I am supposed to feel like I'm behind the 32-year-old curve. Like I have somehow missed the "Where You're Supposed to be In Life" train and am, instead, hitch-hiking along "Life's Highway for Wandering Souls." Like everyone else who is 32 is like, MILES farther along. Down the path to what, I'm not sure, but this is how I feel like I'm supposed to feel.

Facebook would have me know that approximately 90% of my friends are married. I'd say half of those marriages are at least 5 years old. A lot of you are starting to have second children. Older friends have teenagers. This is absolutely insane to me. It is still completely preposterous to me that girls whose hair I've held after 10 shots of tequila are mothers now. Not that they shouldn't be. They are WONDERFUL mothers. I merely mean that when we have brunch with the Wises and they have a little girl, to me it feels like we borrowed a kid from somewhere else and it came to have breakfast with us. It still never fully registers that it belongs to someone I know. It's even crazier that I like it, which we don't even need to discuss, or Donna Ciccarelli will put out an APB on my uterus.

On Saturday mornings, my friends have music class and soccer games. Do you know what I have? Probably a hangover and hot boyfriend sleeping next to me. Hopefully I'll have a cup of coffee or a Bloody Mary to take the pain away. I have hours of uninterrupted day with no one to dictate my whereabouts but me. I have brunch. I have a bike ride. I have doing nothing if it suits me. I have any old silly thing I want to have. (This selfish soul of mine knows that if (IF) we have kids some day, all of that goes away, so you can bet your ass I'm holding out as long as I can.)

I have this sweet friend at work who is 23 and she's going through her quarter-life crisis and, smartly, comes to me for sage advice. ;) The funny thing is, I relate more to her struggles and woes than I do to people my age who read parenting books and go on play-dates. I am far more familiar, at 32, with what it feels like to be a total disaster than I think I will ever be with being a "grown up." It feels WAY more impossible to imagine having a 5-year-old than it does to imagine myself in Athens, for my THIRTY SECOND birthday, shaking my ass with Ginny Brock. Anyways, the young'un asks me about feeling lost, and while I empathize COMPLETELY, in my head, I secretly think, STAY LOST! STAY LOST AS LONG AS YOU CAN.

I always feel like I have all of the rest of my life for those things. I mean, I get that we are never promised tomorrow and some other quotes that can be found in an Instagram picture of the beach and toes in the sand or something. But I've never, and still don't, feel in any rush to get where I'm going. Except for the places I want to travel. Untouched lands, not purported timelines, are what find me anxious. Lately, this has left me feeling immature or something? While perfectly content to be mostly a grown-up when it comes to my career, the rest of me is WAY more concerned with having fun and maintaining an ever-present level of adventure (whereby drama sometimes (unfortunately) seems interchangeable). Everyone else's priorities seem so different. Success for me isn't a perfect wedding or first steps or stuff. It's an entire weekend without a Parliament, not throwing up when I drink with Neal Brock, or the fact that I've been dating someone incredible for 4 WHOLE MONTHS. I think people look at my life and it must seem so crazy and unsettled. Truthfully, there are days when it is. But the rest of the time it's really, honestly, inexplicably, epically excellent.

I joke a lot about how I'm feeling old these days, but the fact of the matter is that I'm actually feeling REALLY young.  And that's a blessing. As I approach this birthday and think about what I think I'm supposed to be doing at 32, I'm pretty pumped that I'm not doing any of those things. Not that those things are bad, it's just TOTALLY not where I'm at. To quote my tiny blond hero, "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22." And I wouldn't have it any other way.