Stroke Me

Leaving on a jet plane tomorrow for Portland. Doubt I will post from there, but you never know!

Courtesy of Paper Napkin, I am planting the seed for National De-Lurking week, January 9-13. At this time last year, I was a blog lurker, not a blog writer, and I enjoyed coming out from the shadows without the pressure of being pithy, just simply saying 'yep, I’m here.' Since this blog is an exercise in self- importance, please participate if you ever come here to read what I have to say. It will make me happy. And, as added incentive, I will give $1 toNoah’s Wish for every comment(er) I receive.

Perhaps I should narrow that down to a day, because that could add up. Not because there are legions of you out there (though I do fantasize that there are dinner conversations that start "And did you read what Nacho said today…oh, that girl is the bees knees!" Ok, not the bees knees part, but you get my meaning). It's just that I have not so much money after Christmas. Maybe I'll just put a cap on it. Wow, am I really trying to figure out how to be stingy with my charitable giving? Hey, we can't all be Oprah.

I’ll put up a reminder when the time gets closer and some additional information regarding my acceptable generosity to poorness ratio.

Happy New Year, my loyal legions of lurkers.

Saving my calories for eggnog.

I am trying my best to stay away from the pyramid of yummy baked-goods in the company kitchen. I swear there is a conspiracy to make me fat. I have a nice healthy stash of apples in the fridge, but how can you grab one of those when there's a shmorgesborg of chocolate and transfats just sitting there on the table. Usually it's nice when people bring in homemade goodies, but this time of year it’s really just too much. There are only 5 of us in the office today, and probably at least 50 cookie/bar/pastry type things. How do these people have time to bake...I’m talking mini bannana bread loaves. Honestly, especially with all the shopping and stressing to be done? And of course there is the incredibly long winded blog posts to be written about traitorous professional athletes and problems with boys. I’m keeping this one short, just wanted to touch base before jumping into the festivities...see you on the other side.

So Happy Christmas, Holidays, Winter Solstice College Bowl Season!*




*ok, I’m not that witty...but he is

Boys and Christmas

Because once I start bitching, it's hard to stop. At least this will change the subject.

I know this isn’t any great revelation. Women have been saying it for ages. Men are impossible to buy presents for. There is a myriad of reasons this is true. The one that causes the most grief in my own life is the good ol'

IF HE WANTS IT, HE BUYS IT

Guys know what they like, and if they like it enough, they just go ahead and get it. There is little financial concern or monetary debate. Within reason, if they want it enough, they find the money. In the event it costs so much that they can't justify buying it for themselves, then it’s certainly too pricey for me to buy it. Because that means it's really expensive.

The only thing that I could come up with that J wanted for Christmas, that he hasn't already purchased for himself, is a flat screen TV. Yeah, right! Unfortunately for him, that's not happening. They cost $3,000. And even if they were significantly cheaper, I couldn't get him one, because we'd already have one.

Perhaps this is a secret ploy for men to get women to buy them REALLY expensive gifts. If they buy all the reasonably priced things themselves, then what's left? I'll tell you what’s left...a book. Here's a book. Enjoy

My Dad seems to get alot of books, but not solely because of the above reason. The short of it is that he is very particular. He has strong preferences when it comes to the fit of things. The sleeves are too long, the shoulders are too tight, the porridge is too cold.…It can be very rewarding when you succeed in finding something that fits just right. It's like russian roulette with sweaters! There is nothing wrong with this of course. We all like things the way we like them. It's just that it makes buying him any sort of apparel daunting, to say the least. Hence, when you couple the HE WANTS IT, HE BUYS IT with the CHANCES ARE IT WON’T FIT RIGHT, you get books.

There was some talk in my house about what to get each other for Christmas. J usually has a few ideas of what he would like. The problem is that they are so many options and digits and dashes involved in whatever it is, it would actually be easier to just give him cash. This leads us to reason #3 it is impossible to buy presents for boys

HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO ACTUALLY KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

Oh, they know what they want alright. Down to the littlest specification. They may say, 'Boy I like those new Motorola cellphones.' But, oops! They meant the one with the built in GPS tracker not the video camera! That’s the Q47 –06 not the Q47-09. Geez, how did I mess that up! And you are destined to have a disappointed boy on Christmas, or at least someone who now has to go the mall (yikes!) and do an exchange.

There is something distinctly uncomfortable and cold to me, in having someone write down the manufacturer and model number for everything they want for Christmas. Where's the surprise? Where's the "Wow, how did you know!? Thanks!" Perhaps this is less of a 'Why boys are impossible to buy for' and more of a 'Why K never gets me anything I want' problem. J would be guaranteed all that he desires if I would let him write it all down. Then I could just go and buy and check it off the list. Ugh, what a horrible idea. No fun at all. And I know success is possible. I hitch all my hopes on the memory of presenting J with a microphone...that would be a Shure Beta 57-A microphone.

Some how, through all this complaining and worrying, I manage to get the boys in my life presents. Not always great ones, but good enough I think. Though Dad usually gets a book, I try to find one that I know he will enjoy. And the surveillance system I have set up to spy on J in the hopes of discovering what he may like, usually pays off. This year, not so sure, but we'll see.

2nd Stage of Grief: ANGER

Not to beat a dead horse, but this Johnny Damon thing is upsetting. The more I read out there in the blogosphere, the more pissed I get. Here are a few pearls from the sox fans out there:

Johnny Damon could have remained a Red Sox for life, played two years longer than he should have, and never bought a meal in New England again. Instead, he’s a Yankee. I'll be back in a while; I need to find some flame accelerator. -www.scsuscholars.com

See you in the Bronx, Mr. Damon. I hope you enjoyed your last standing ovation at Fenway Park, as you will never hear the Boston Crowd cheer your name again. -www.thediatribe.net

Not much of me even cared to think about the business point of view. All I was thinking was that Johnny Damon had a choice to sign with any team, and he chose the one that I hate more than almost anything in the world. One that won't allow him to do what he wants (hair/beard-wise). One that he knows is hated by the people who really, really loved him as a player and as a person. -www.letsgosox.blogspot.com

Johnny Damon will never be the marketing chip in New York he had been in Boston--precious few Yankees fans will be running around sporting pink #18 tees anytime soon. As such, Johnny Damon probably just cost himself $3 million in marketing royalties just by being a shallow, materialistic dickhead. -www.confessionalpoet.typepad.com/cursed_to_first/

And from the best source I know...My Darling Husband.

FUCK...I hate having to hope Johnny Fucking Damon tears his ACL slipping on some ice after martinis at Nobu with A-Rod

2 scenarios are acceptable if there is in fact a baseball god. I mentioned the first in the headline of the post. Like I said I hate having to hope for this but i have to be honest and say that I would be a happy boy if it were to play out like that. Sorry K, I know you hate this mentality but it's how I'm wired. Can't be helped. Even if he can't play baseball anymore he can still do starbucks commercials (not too many dunkin donuts in the city). He could *chuckle* become a sportscaster. Right. We all know talking has never been JD's strength. This leads me to the second acceptable scenario. It's simple. It would basically just call for him to suck ass and bat like .145, get hooked on crystal meth and get thrown in Rikers for blowing businessmen for crack money once the starbucks money runs out. I fear however that we will be subjected to a much more torturous future. he will continue to be the nastiest lead off hitter in baseball causing me to utter the words "johnny fucking damon" countless times in 06. Even though I hate him today he was fun to have on the sox the past few years. Part of me doesn't really blame him 100% (only 99). Can't help but wonder if this would have happened with theo at the helm. It broke down to freakin $3m a year. They could have afforded him without blinking an eye. They just blew it. Jed and Chet or whatever the fuck their names are have gotten off to a bad start. A BIG hit in the PR dept. Maybe they can land OCab @ short and get a little personality back in the dugout. Here's to hoping.

There is so much great writing out there, I can't share it all. Sorry I didn't link, but my html tolerance is not up to par today, so just copy and paste to check out the full posts. Most of these people also have sox blog rolls, so if you are looking to get fired, you can spend your entire work day reading the reactions to this betrayal.

I honestly think, and hope, he will regret this move.

$52M and a Hair Cut

Five years ago, I moved to New England having never watched a baseball game. Not even The World Series. At the time, I equated watching baseball with the other time-honored tradition of watching paint dry.

Then I found the Red Sox. The mythical story surrounding the team, tales of curses and unbelievable bad luck endeared them to me. Add in the infectious enthusiasm of the fans, and a beautiful home in the middle of a great city and I was hooked. I am an emotional fan. The level of awe and feeling surrounding Red Sox Nation was enough to pull me in. Call me what you will, but I jumped on that bandwagon full tilt and my heartbreak after the 2003 season was just as real as anyone’s.

My mom was surprised to hear I had become a fan of baseball. I explained to her how the transformation occurred. How once you get to know the team – the players – the game opens up to you. You see a familiar face at the plate, and you know what they are capable of, and you tense up with excitement. How the Sox taught me more about baseball than I knew existed. I can’t tell you how privileged I feel to have been a fan when they finally did it in 2004. It was a truly magical, and sleep deprived week when they came back against the Yankees. Those guys were my team, and I loved them

Well, when I started this emotional investment, there was a lot about baseball I still didn’t know. Things you learn from being a fan for many years, and many seasons. Things about money and loyalty. I soon realized that often my loyalty was not to be reciprocated. That they didn’t love me they way I loved them. They were just doing a job. Money was to be made, endorsement deals pursued. I understand its what these guys do for a living, but where is the sense of home, of commitment? Don’t they get attached to us the way we do to them?

Perhaps it’s because they are often used like the currency they chase after. They are easily handed over for something the bearer needs more. Traded and swaped with a "what have you done for me lately" vibe. It's no wonder they are constantly shopping around for a sweeter deal, hoping to cash in before they pop their ACL.

Many of you longtime baseball fans see it as part of the game, and something that has always been going on and will continue to go on. I am sure you are right. Being relatively new to the sport, I am disappointed. I don't have a history with the Red Sox the team, the brand. I have a history with Millar and Manny. One now gone, the other trying to get away.

But I'm learning. I am becoming numb to the disappointment. The child-like wonder is slowly being replaced by aged cynicism. Perhaps it will make me a better fan. Somehow I doubt it. So,from now on, I will try not to form attachments, they only break your heart. Is it better to have loved and lost, than to never loved at all? I suppose it was nice while it lasted. So goodbye Johnny. . .



you, fucker.

It's gonna get wacky out west

I am so excited about New Years Eve, I can barely stand it! J and I are heading out West to Portland, OR. The Lennon to J’s McCartney lives there and they have scheduled a fun event for us to partake in. It sounds like a total blast. Though the "team uniform" aspect has me a little worried. Our host is one of those guys that gets dressed up in polyester three piece suits and afro wigs to go to a bar...just because. This is sure to go down in the record books. I hate to say it, but part of me is happy I haven’t gotten pregnant yet. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures! Weeeeeeeee...fun!

Ladies and Gents....Portland Madness. The alternative to the typical New Years Eve party. Are you in?

The deal: The contest is a scavenger hunt. Teams will score points by completing challenges and tasks throughout the Portland Metro Area. Contest begins with drinks at 6pm, December 31st, at Zaytoon's bar on Alberta Street. There will be team registration, and at 6:30 each team will receive the maps and challenges that make up the Madness. Teams will strategize until 7:30, at which point....
the game begins.

Completion of tasks will be documented by digital camera. The contest ends at 11:00 at the doorway of Jesse and Jennifer's apartment. Photos will be uploaded to a central PC, points will be tabulated, drinks will be served, and after Midnight, the winners will be announced. Cash and other prizes awarded for teams that stand out.
The party ensues with music and dancing, including a slide show of Madness challenge photos.

Sounds like fun? Sure it does - you've never done this before, and what else do you have planned?

SO - To register your team, you need:

1) team uniform and mascot - whatever your mascot, it's got to be in the photos. Something stuffed will work nicely.
2) $20 per head (covers entry fee and drinks at the after-party) will be due at registration. Less is OK if you're not drinking.
3) One digital camera per team

Those without a team, or teams needing members, can register and be matched up with others at registration.

Important ground rules!
1) 3-4 people on a team
2) No driving - all other means of transport permitted
3) Deadline to return is 11:00 PM.
4) Creative suggestions welcome.

More details to follow. The more players the better. We'll cap the game at 40 players, so RSVP soon

If only I could get her a sense of humor for Christmas

Mom: I can’t believe you’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life.

Nacho: Just not all the way through. I guess I’m more of a Scrooged or A Christmas Story kinda person.

Mom: A Christmas Story? Do you mean A Christmas Carol?

Nacho: No, A Christmas Story, with Messy Marvin? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen A Christmas Story?

Mom: Oh, that BB gun movie. No, I’ve never seen it.

Nacho: Wow. I think they have a 24 hour marathon of it every year. I can’t believe you’ve never gotten sucked into it at least once.

Mom: I change the channel.

Nacho: Mom, you really ought to give a shot. It’s only the funniest Christmas movie ever made.

Mom: I don’t think guns are funny. Even BB guns. They’re dangerous.

Nacho: Because you could shoot your eye out?

Mom: Exactly.

She's Mighty Fine

It’s a crispy crunchy Friday here in Western Massachusetts, as the couple inches of snow from last night is glazed by freezing rain. Took about 20 minutes for my car to warm up to the point that the encasement of ice could be penetrated by a scraper. What a mess.

I would like to thank all the people who offered suggestions for my Christmas quandary. I’m pretty sure it will be a book, and if he’s lucky (and I’m not too slow of a knitter), a hat.

With all this talk about presents, and shopping, and snow, I wanted to share with you all a magnificent resource. First, read how funny she is! Though I do not share her disdain for snow, I do share her affinity for yummy tropical drinks. Then you must check out her wonderful pages of stuff you never knew you needed, but now must have. So GREAT for gifts! Whether it be a wedding or house warming, Maggie truly has a flair for wading through all the crap and finding nice little nuggets of hip and cute. Since my Dad is neither hip, nor cute, her expertise could not help me with the challenge that is my father.

Enjoy your journey into Poor-er-ness!

Please tell me, what are you getting your Dad? (Seriously– help!)

I’m at a complete loss. I've searched the Internet far and wide, and I have yet to find anything that my Dad would even remotely like. If you go by retailer suggestions, all Dads are boozers who play golf, smoke cigars and prefer that all their possessions are protected by individually hand-sewn leather totes. Besides the wallets and countless laptop bags there are leather ipod covers, leather flask holders, leather keychains, leather tie cases, leather cufflink holders, leather sunglass protectors, leather shaving kits…is there some sort of man=leather fetish rule I am unaware of? All I need to do is come up with a leather all in one flask/golfbag/humidor and I'll be rich…oh,too late. Not exactly a humidor, but you could stash one of these in the cell phone compartment

And who in the world needs all the tie accessories out there? Hangers, holders, organizers, travel cases? First of all, if I was a dude, I would be pissed that I had to wear a tie to begin with. I wouldn’t need the fact that I am forced to conform to an uncomfortable social practice reinforced by the many accoutrements aiming to maximize my tie wearing efficiency. Seriously, who needs one of these (and of course, it’s made of leather). We don’t have panty hose organizers do we? No. Well, at least I don’t think so. Perhaps I am unawares? (Oh, dibs! perhaps I have fallen on my ever elusive million dollar idea. I must call my patent lawyer immediately.)

Please help me. Nacho’s Dad deserves something nice.

Meat and Magic

Well, Christmas has officially arrived. I came home yesterday to a familiar yule-tide sight on my front porch. A red and white box stamped with Perishable Meats, Open and Refrigerate Immediately! Not familiar with this symbol of Christmas cheer? The annual stash of breakfast meat has been a reliable treat at our home, yet it manages to surprise me every year. The generosity comes from one of the vendors J deals with. Nothing says Christmas like a selection of sausage and bacon from the midwest. To my dismay, there is no cheese, as one would expect from a package of edibles from Wisconsin. There is however, some maple syrup and pancake mix. Well, there was pancake mix. I left it on the counter and when we came back from an evening at the movies, there was a big, sloppy white goo-fest on our carpet. T, the dog, found the mix to be very tasty, as I'm sure the pancakes it would have produced would have been. Cleaning it up proved to be a bigger challenge that you would expect. Did you know that when Buttermilk pancake mix combines with doggy spit it becomes a nasty cement-like substance, impossible to remove from carpet fibers? Me neithe. My education continues.

Finally saw Harry Potter last night. It was enjoyable. As with all movies made from books, things seemed a little undeveloped and quick. For those of you who haven't seen it yet, I don’t want to spoil anything...but I'm sure anyone who wants to see the movie has read the book, so you already know. Just want to give you warning, because here are a few observations:

Um, what is up with that dress they put Hermione in? This was supposed to be her Pretty Woman/ Ugly Duckling moment and they throw her in a boob pinching, foo-foo, ruffled satin and chiffon monstrosity. And the hair...she looked like she came out of the North and South mini-series.

There was no appearance of Oliver Wood (boo). Cedric was not cute enough to make up for it. His head was shaped funny.

I still don’t think they play Dumbledore right in the movies. In the books, he comes across light-hearted and sorta goofy. Not so in the film. Way too serious.

Ok, enough of the bitching already...there was some good stuff too.

Special effects and sets worked well. Not too far off from the pictures in my head.

The maze. Cool...I mean, brilliant. (I’m considering adopting this aphorism. Cool has become overused in my personal vocabulary. And everyone knows, Harry Potter books also act as great Thesauruses.)

Ray Feines was bloody brilliant. His performance was spot on, playing that git Voldermort, though he was only in the very last bit. And blimey, those buggery Death Eaters were scary. It got a little dodgey, but luckily Harry got away and saved his arse.

That is all, off to nosh some bacon and snog my husband.

Editing note: After reading my entry, I became alarmed at the superfluous use of exclaimation points...so I removed them. I sounded like a hyper 13 year old.

I'm such an Oprah cliche'...where's my makeover!

It’s Sunday afternoon, J is at band practice and the dog is rumbling away upstairs, enjoying the traction the new carpet affords. As a result of his indulgence, some of the little berber loops have become pulled and yanked, leaving little threads sticking up like worms after a rain. I should stop him, but he’s having way too much fun.

I am still in my pajamas. Yes, it’s 3:30. It is unusually dark outside, even for wintertime. I should have tried to venture out while the sun was shining, but unfortunately looks like I missed my chance.

At the risk of scaring off some of my new found readers, here’s a little self importance and self obsessing I need to get off my chest:

Do you ever see a picture of yourself, and think, Oh my god, do I really look like that? Of course you do, I’m sure everyone has. Well, today, a friend posted a funny doctored picture of me (doctored in that it looks like I’m trying to steal Donald Trump’s wallet! ha! it is funny) on our “friend” blog, and I look HUGE, fat with horrible posture and double chins…and it has me in a funk. I am thinking of doing 20 posts just so that picture will scroll off the page and I won’t have to look at it. I am vain, and notoriously unphotogenic. Or perhaps I really look like that, and I’m just in denial. I hate that I can’t enjoy the funny, simply because I look like shit.

Ok, enough of my therapy for today. Don’t want to be a downer. This week will bring uplifting and interesting communication from Nacho! God, I hope I get my happy lamp for Christmas. The full spectrum goodness will surely do wonders for my self image and I’ve even read it can curb your appetite! Wouldn’t that be a bonus.

Photo Poop

Early tomorrow morning we are supposed to get the first good snow of the season. I didn’t get to witness the 3" we got while I was in Jacksonville, unless you count the time I spent shoving it off my car in the airport parking lot. I guess it's going to be 6" or so. Not a big snow, but enough to snow blow instead of shovel. I am glad, because it's FREEZING here. I'm talking 11 degrees people! In the past I have expressed my not-so-enthusiastic view towards New England winters. However, I am also a firm believer that, as long as it’s going to be cold as balls, the least you can do is give me some pretty.



By the time I got out of work it was getting dark (thank you New England winter). This is the only picture I could get before my fingers fell off and my camera broke. Fabulous. J attemped to give it the Fonzi, but it's still whirring and grinding and beeping at me. So, no pics for a while :-(

The Nacho is out of the Bag

My cover is blown. It is not a result of the picture I posted, as I had feared might happen, but due to a little feature that has foiled many a covert porn connoisseur and in-office job seeker…the dreaded AutoFill. I had told my husband that I had started a blog, but wanted to keep it a private outlet for thoughts and ramblings. He was cool with that and encouraged me to blog away. But since so many witty and funny people visit me, I couldn't NOT share some of the more amusing happenings at Nacho Intolerant. I told him I had put a Hokie blog roll and relayed some of the interesting people and anecdotes to be found in the Hokie Blogosphere. Realizing that I had been running around, trying to find everyone's take on the happenings of last weekend, and not to mention commenting like crazy, I figured he may have found me. He is, after all, a proud Hokie himself and more than familiar with Blogger and Google and is a smarty pants.

I’ve been trying to fix the look of this site for a while. I am not good at HTML or CSS, but after work I went home and tried to fix a few of the quirks I have going on here. I was fiddling away with smoke wafting out my ears when he came home. Instinctually, I went to quickly minimize Safari, so he couldn’t see the Nacho site, but instead I decided to ask.

Nacho: You haven’t discovered my blog, have you?
J: Smirk/Smile
Nacho: When did you find it!
J: About a month ago

Yikes! I quickly run through all the posts in my head, trying to think if I said anything that would cause him to either A: Run screaming to the nearest lawyers office, or B: Recoil in anger regarding all the name calling and husband bashing. But, with my husband being such a wonderful person, I realized that nothing like that could have possibly occurred. He is such a caring and sensitive individual, he gave me no fodder to attack is lovely, sexy and all round amazing person (Hi Honey!). To talk ill of him would be impossible.

I thought he had discovered me as perhaps a commenter on a site I had mentioned that I visit, such as Miles from Fenway (he is a sox fan) or Opinionista (though I doubt he could figure me out since she gets like a million comments a day). But no. He said he even tried to Google me based on what he thought I might be blogging about. Some of his searches were "big brown dog" and "big brown monster" because there are endless things to be said about the dog. But that didn’t work.

Then one day, he went to the computer and starting typing in the address bar. Not sure what he was looking for, but the www.n led right into www.nachointolerant.blogspot.com . And J, knowing my aversion to corn was able to do the math. And there you have it! I am outed. I will try to not let it effect the self indulgent writings you find here.

And now we have to go back

First and foremost, I am a fan. I am far from a student of the game itself. Though some people seem to have a RainMan-esque ability to record stats and details into their brain, I am not one of those people. I do not have a mind for sports in that way. If sports is music, I am tone deaf. I sit and enjoy the sounds, and appreciate the talent with little comprehension of the laws and theories that guide it. I also lack the ability to accurately convey what has just gone in my ear hole with my mouth hole.

Football games tend to wash over me as an experience, not a linear set of occurrences or a string of single events. I am saying this so you understand that in relaying my ACC Championship experience, there will be information lacking, and I dare say remembered completely wrong. My memories are based in emotion, not in details. And without the reinforcement I am used to, the details have mixed together in a random swirl of images and feeling. At home I complain about the inane ramblings of the sportcasters, and roll my eyes at their silly puns; but for someone who does not get to go to actual LIVE games very often, I am amazed to find how dependent on commentary and instant replay I have become. And not just because I forgot my glasses (which I did).

That said...here it is! First for the happy fun time before the sad despondent time.

The day started great. I arrived at the Jacksonville airport on a plane of 140 people, and walked into the Florida sun with a gaggle of Gobblers. My sister picked me up and we went straight to the stadium. After walking through the parking lot, past the tailgaters with their BBQ and beer, we made our way toward the FanFest.


The FanFest provided a lot of distractions of the sporty type – throw a football through a ring, try to kick a field goal, push one of those big metal push things linebackers always push in the movies. My sister made some cash off a slightly drunk, but enthusiastic Hokie, who offered her $5 to kick a football through two bright yellow inflatable uprights.


Spontaneous chants of Go Hokies mixed with the brass and drums of The Marching Virginians. It was a sea of maroon and orange. We probably out numbered the ‘Noles 2 to 1. After taking in as much as we could, we headed inside.

Then the game began.

I must say, the first half was one of the most unremarkable periods of football I can recall. Neither team did much of anything worth noting. There were penalties, LOTS of penalties, and TV timeouts. All combined to bring what should have been an exciting game, to a crawl. I don’t know how long that first half lasted, but it was longer than my bladder could endure.

And it was frustrating, not only because we didn’t seem to be playing up to snuff, but because FSU people surrounded us. Don't get me wrong, our seats were awesome.


It's just that when the mob mentality and contagious excitement is going the other way, it's kind of a downer. Most of the FSU people were perfectly nice, but it only takes a few seconds of that indian tomahawk chop chant to make you want to run away screaming. And they have a song they play repeatedly that ends in spelling, then "Florida State!Florida State!Florida State!" then WHEW! with Jazz Hands. The Inevitable "What the hell’s a Hokie?" question came up. I have always been appalled at the number of my Hokie brethren are who are ill equipped to answer this question. And NO! it is not a castrated turkey! I don’t know where this little fable started, but it was annoying the first time I heard it, not to mention from some drunk FSU frat boy next you acting like he’s the expert.

Anyway, (I’m going to try to keep the 'nole fan bashing to a minimum...but I must add that the arm chop song is WAY more annoying than the USC thing, and used more persistantly, which I didn’t think was possible) the half ended and I sprinted to the bathroom, all the while thinking about the can of Whoop-Ass Beamer must be opening on the boys. I had high hopes for the second half.

Well, the second half started, and at some point the 'noles scored. And then scored again. And then again. See, this is where my memory fails me. I remember the dread, the disappointment. As I said before, the game sits inside me as an experience, not a well ordered sequence of events. I don’t recall downs and yardage, not even the correct timing of the images I have stored in my brain. I remember them returning that kick, ugh. Our complete inability to catch a beautifully thrown pass..um, excuse me, passes. More penalties, though some of them were a saving grace and turned our 4th downs into 1st downs. Wondering why we weren’t running the ball and throwing to the outside so much. And I had lots of questions. I questioned the need for Replay Reviews, since it was obvious the refs are infallible and always make the correct calls. Who is that snapping the ball into Marcus’s ankles? What did that half time pep talk do to Schmidt? And don’t we ever practice 2 point conversions?

Most of all, I remember the hope. The need and want to believe my Hokies wouldn’t disappoint me – that we could pull this out. The optimism and faith began to grow as the clock slowy ticked down. But all hopes where dashed when it was declared our onside kick was recovered one yard too short...it was over.

The points we put on the board did help elevate my spirits from the verge of tears, to glum acceptance. A few of the FSU crowd around us began their gloating. Thinking themselves witty, the "Chokies" comments began. They didn’t understand that the term is well known amongst the VT faithful, and I daresay invoked more by us than any rival.

I will not, however, say the best team won. I believe FSU deserved to win. We did not look like a top 5 team, and I shook my head as the athletes I admire began to lose composure in frustration. The best of the teams that showed up won. The Hokies I know did not show up.

Though the experience was disheartening and sad, it is important to remember, that even amidst our most terrible nightmares, lie glimpses and moments of what we consider dreams.




The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart."
-Robert Green Ingersoll

January 2nd we'll have a chance to show Jacksonville who we really are.
Go Hokies.

Who deserves my blog love?

I've done a little clean up on my Hokies Unite Roll. I created the list after a quick search for Hokies in the Blogosphere. However, many are not in to updating. I have also decided that I will only include those who actually write about the Hokies on occasion. Sorry Kevin Wells! You're out of here! And Southern Comfort, though I'm glad you had a good time with your Grandma, there is football to worry about. Brooklyn Hokie has been spared since his last post was about the Miami game. I can’t really blame him for being too depressed to write. This week is a good litmus - considering the upcoming ACC Championship. If you’re a Hokie blogger, and you don’t say something about this game, then you don’t belong on my blog roll.

I am having some debate about a few other Hokie bloggers I have found. Some of them rub my political sensibilities the wrong way. Though their Hokie pride is intact, their ideas about social/political issues, or manner in which they express themselves, causes me to cringe.

Should the Hokies United be censored? Am I stifling the free exchange of ideas simply because I don’t agree with all those ideas? I guess I’m just afraid that my readers will think I endorse or support the ideas of the people I choose to link to. I suppose I could put little disclaimers after their link that would be sure to let my opionions, of their opinions, be known.

For Instance, New Dominion over there:

New Dominion - Virginia Republican of the Hokie persuasion. At least I like one of his teams.

It's not mean, but lets it be known that although I acknowledge his republicanism, it is not the reason I link to him.

Then there's Grab Tha Junx. I haven't put this guy on yet because he can be pretty offensive. But as it happens, offensive can sometimes be funny...and I've thought of putting him on.

Grab Tha Junx - Hokie whose best idea of an insult is calling someone a Homo. Enjoys questioning the sexuality of any and all Virginia Tech rivals. I do not endorse this method of trash talking. Get this man some sensitivity training.

That is a little more explicit as to "hey, I don't agree with the way this guy decides to express himself"...yeah? I don't know. Maybe I'll put him and take him off if I get complaints. Fuck it, I read his blog. Sometimes it's really funny...though most of the time I roll my eyes. Representing the Hokie Homophobic contingent...every team's got'em I suppose. Obnoxious.

That said, I stand behind my "People I Visit" blogroll 100%! Not to jinx it. Just watch, Sambot will start supporting the practice of forcing cute Robots into death battles and Cattiva will condemn homemade Christmas cards as vailed attempts to cause ridicule and shame.

oh, too late.

PS - Also I declare that Knit Geek needs to post some more pictures of that little cutie and entertain me with stories of silly boys and carpal tunnel.

Turkey Tale #3: Off to stalk the Hokie Bird!

Ok, so this has nothing to do with Thanksgiving...it has to do with the king of all Turkeys, and he ain't for eatin!

I leave early Saturday to go to Jacksonville and cheer on the Hokies to an ACC Championship! My sister is a Hokie in Seminole Country and works in Tallahassee with a bunch of Florida State Alumni. They have an extra ticket, so here I come! We’ll probably be sitting in the FSU section, but that's ok. Can't be as bad as the seats my Dad got for the VT/USC game at Fed Ex field last year. Since he is a USC alum, we sat in the Trojan section….RIGHT behind the band. I mean, DIRECTLY behind the band. USC's little march horn diddy is SOOOO annoying, and repetitive, and annoying. Buuuuuuuum, Bum Bum BaBuuuuuuum, Bum Bum BaBuuuuum. If I recall, FSU has a similar Indian War March kinda tune. Fantastic.

Florida State is up there with UVA and Maryland as a team I just don’t like. I actually dislike them more than UVA. UVA has that little brother sort of feel to me. Sure, let’s kick the shit out of them, but I don’t want everybody in the neighborhood taking shots and bloodying them all up. Unless it helps us of course. But, FSU? Swing away. The Sugar Bowl of '99 left a bad taste in my mouth. Weinke, you Wanker. I cringe when I have to root for them if, by chance, a Seminole victory improves Hokie standings.

This will be also be a perfect opportunity to accomplish one of my lifetime goals. Have my picture taken with The Hokie Bird. I know, not very impressive as far as life aspirations go. But a lot more difficult to achieve than one would think. Mostly due to the fact I am up here in New England, so he doesn't come around very often. Back when I lived in the 'burg, I took his proximity for granted and never pursued photo opportunities with much vigor. Now that I have left my beautiful Blue Ridge and sit here in the dark and cold, the Hokie Bird represents what I have left behind. Friends and mountains and rivers and bars and music and of course all my fellow Hokies.

And by the way, I will be in Florida for 26 whole hours. After all is said and done, I will probably spend more time in airports and planes than swamps or sunshine.