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re: Looking for a funny story about college football fans
Posted on 7/15/09 at 10:35 am to Geaux2HellAuburnt
Posted on 7/15/09 at 10:35 am to Geaux2HellAuburnt
4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.
5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.
5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."
5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the frick didn't you announce last call over the fricking PA system??!!"
5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter,awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far)cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a gargantuan shite all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage,but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.
6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the basketball game.
8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store.I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the fridge. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the fridge.
7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.
5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.
5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."
5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the frick didn't you announce last call over the fricking PA system??!!"
5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter,awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far)cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a gargantuan shite all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage,but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.
6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the basketball game.
8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.
7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store.I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the fridge. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the fridge.
7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.
1
Posted on 7/15/09 at 10:36 am to Geaux2HellAuburnt
8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to frick off and restart "Neon Moon."
8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a fricking tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "NeonMoon" loudly.
8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the shite out of Arizona.
9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me.
9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no shite): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to frick off.
10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst fricking call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit seriously."
10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a fricking tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "NeonMoon" loudly.
8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the shite out of Arizona.
9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me.
9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no shite): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light.
9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to frick off.
10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst fricking call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit seriously."
10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops.
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