He Ate The Bones

I don’t care what anyone says, starting your Monday off with a towed car is the best way to do it. Nothing beats the adrenaline rush of walking to where you parked your car the night before only to find it no longer there. Not to mention it’s just going to make me that much stronger for anything else this week wants to throw at me. It’s as if Chris and I purposely parked in that school zone last night when we finally got into Chicago very late after a painful eight hour drive from Nebraska. We did it because we knew today would be a struggle, so we figured we’d might as well make it ten times worse just to really drive it home this morning. After all, pain is weakness leaving the body.

So our car is currently being held hostage in an impound lot somewhere on lower Wacker street, my eyes are nearly swollen shut thanks to the wonderful Nebraska allergies that attacked me on Saturday, and I am just waiting for the time bomb of ten chicken wings (bone-in) inside of Harlow’s tummy to explode at any second. So would I do I my weekend all over again in Lincoln had I known today would be the outcome? Absolutely. I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Saturday began with bloodys and “We’re #1” photos in Kim’s backyard around 8:30 a.m.

11:00 a.m. game days are hard, but we’re harder. Your only choice is to make the best of the early morning tailgating, so that we did.

We met up with my brother and sister at their tailgate downtown, at which point I decided to turn my scarf into a shawl as seen below. And yes, it looked just as awkward in person as it does in photo. September mornings are chilly, what can I say.

Per the usual, time speeds up on game days and suddenly it was already time to join the sea of red and head into the stadium.

I’ll be honest, the actual game isn’t necessarily my favorite part of game days. I wish football games were exactly one hour, because that’s about how long my attention span lasts. My favorite parts are everything that surrounds football games, i.e. the tradition, the tailgating, stadium food, seeing old friends, and just the overall excitement once you step into Husker Nation. That is until your team starts losing and all morale goes out the window.

In case you don’t follow Nebraska football, we got beat pretty bad on Saturday. Yet I can’t help but think twenty years down the road UCLA won’t just remember it as the year they came into our stadium and beat us, they’re going to remember it as the year they came into our stadium and beat us in honor of their fallen teammate, Nick Pasquale. I’m sure I’m in the minority here, but I’m okay with that. I just don’t think I’ll forget the image of watching a few of UCLA’s biggest guys crying on the sideline like I did before Saturday’s game when we released the blue and yellow balloons into the sky during a moment of silence for Pasquale, who passed away just one week previous.

So even though we may have lost, I’m happy to report I still saw Husker fans on every corner high-fiving UCLA fans, even just minutes after they down right embarrassed us on our own turf. Our fans are so nice sometimes it’s almost kind of eerie.

Following the game, Chris and I chose to eat away our feelings with a plate full of nachos from the Embassy. Just look at this plate and then tell me who the real winner is.

At only 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon we knew it was our only option to refuel on greasy ground beef and fake nacho cheese, as we still had a long day ahead of us. Naps on game days just never work, only the strong survive.

After we got through the lull from 3-5:00 p.m which just consisted of everyone giving their unsolicited two cents regarding what went wrong during the game, things finally started to pick up when the sun began to go down, and the real goons of Lincoln started to crawl out of the wood work.

The bar hopping of Stinkin Lincoln was in full force, at this point nothing was off limits. I saw old Nebraska pals.

Met new Nebraska pals.

And decided somewhere along the lines it would be a good idea to put the sunglasses back on, I’m assuming it was on account of the allergy problem. And yes, my friend Roy likes to throw the “#1” whenever possible.

It was somewhere in between jumping from The Bar and The Rail and back again, when I decided I was Husker’d out. The clock was almost ready to strike midnight and I knew I was about to turn into a pumpkin if I didn’t get home soon. So with my glass booties in tow, I found a Happy Cab and called it a night.

Kim was already back at her house waiting for me with a plethora of chicken wings, nachos, and queso dip. I took a bite of each and said good night. It was around 3:00 a.m. when hurricane Chris and hurricane Goldie came bursting through the door. Chris said he’d gotten a ride home with “Taylor,” and Goldie appeared to have fought a bear to get a ride home. I’d post a photo of Goldie’s face, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate. Just imagine what you’d look like if you rolled out a car and then rubbed your face along a brick wall. He apparently fell while dancing at The Bar, an honest mistake really, it’s happened to the best of us. Especially on game days.

Before we took off on Sunday we knew it was in our best interest to rehash the day previous over some good greasy bar food at Lincoln’s famed “Watering Hole.” I got a club sandwich that was straight from Heaven while the rest of the group got wings.

We went back to Kim’s to pack up our stuff and that’s when we discovered Harlow decided to have his own post-game lunch, as well. Remember all that food from the night before? The ten chicken wings, the nachos, the queso dip….. Well we stupidly left it out on the coffee table in the basement and Harlow ate every last bit of it. He literally licked the boxes clean. He ate the bones and everything. HE ATE THE BONES.

Needles to say, I am monitoring him very closely today. Trust me, I know all about what happens when dogs eat chicken bones. This isn’t Har’s first rodeo.

And on that note, I need to get going.  As usual, it’s New Life Monday. No more bad food, no more beer, I am detoxing and getting my life back to be the professional young adult that I am.

At least until Friday.