They won.
And then they won again.
We spent Super Bowl with friends -- seven people, five dogs. It was a true Super Bowl party. I draped gold beads around Superdog's neck -- her good luck charm. I screamed at the boys to quit celebrating after a good play and move out of the way of the TV. We ate all day long. And, at the end, we were jubliant.
We second lined around the neighborhood...yelled "WHO DAT" at the top of our lungs and to the neighbors half a block down, who happily yelled it back...watched fireworks explode in city limits for our victory. We watched Tom hand the Lombardi trophy to Coach Payton, who handed it to the game's (and, he said, the LEAGUE'S) MVP, Drew Brees. And we celebrated some more.
I have a deep respect for the entire Colts team. They played hard, and, most of all, they did exactly what Drew told them to do: they finished strong.
Happy Super Bowl Day to New Orleans, to Louisiana, to the out-of-state fans, to the fans who remember when the Saints became a franchise, to the fans who were 'Aints, to the bandwagon fans, and to the fans who grew up loving this city, loving this team. This win is for all of us.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Black and gold Superbowl
I cannot write words to describe how on the edge of my seat I am right now.
I tried to hold back earlier this week. Tried not to get too excited, because waiting for this monumental event would last too long. But it's Thursday. And the Saints are going to win the Superbowl on Sunday.
I can't hold back any longer.
WHO DAT!! (That's right, NFL, I said "Who dat" in reference to the Saints. I have a shirt that has the first two letters of my name and "dat" on it, too. Wanna say that's illegal? Boo on you. Seriously.)
I'm dizzy with anticipation.
Peyton, I wish you almost all of the best. I'll wish you all the best after this season. But Sunday night, I wish you ALMOST all the best. Because all my best wishes are going to Drew and Jeremy and Reggie (You BETTER do good, Reg -- I got a jersey with your number on it!) and Sean and all the other Saints.
And all you Saints fans who are going to be near a national TV camera? Let's try not to get so drunk as you stumble over or have a wardrobe malfunction. Please brush your hair (and your teeth) and represent Louisiana well. Let's remember, this is the Superbowl. Let's have some class.
(Seriously, why does every national TV outlet find the one uber-redneck in the crowd and focus in on him/her? REALLY?)
And, btw, if anyone knows Bobby J's number, give our ol' governor a call and tell him (and our university president) that everyone's either going to be euphoric or despondant on Monday, so we don't need to go to school or work Feb. 8. Why bother? Half of Louisiana's going to be "sick" anyway -- and that includes about half my students.
I wish I had taken a picture of all the Saints signs I've seen over the past few weeks. Restaurants, oil change places, billboards -- we're all cheering for the Saints. I almost feel sorry for Manning & Co. It's hard to go against the team that everyone wants to win.
(Almost feel sorry for them. But almost really doesn't count.)
We're in Miami. We're in the Superbowl.
Let the nailbiting begin!!
I tried to hold back earlier this week. Tried not to get too excited, because waiting for this monumental event would last too long. But it's Thursday. And the Saints are going to win the Superbowl on Sunday.
I can't hold back any longer.
WHO DAT!! (That's right, NFL, I said "Who dat" in reference to the Saints. I have a shirt that has the first two letters of my name and "dat" on it, too. Wanna say that's illegal? Boo on you. Seriously.)
I'm dizzy with anticipation.
Peyton, I wish you almost all of the best. I'll wish you all the best after this season. But Sunday night, I wish you ALMOST all the best. Because all my best wishes are going to Drew and Jeremy and Reggie (You BETTER do good, Reg -- I got a jersey with your number on it!) and Sean and all the other Saints.
And all you Saints fans who are going to be near a national TV camera? Let's try not to get so drunk as you stumble over or have a wardrobe malfunction. Please brush your hair (and your teeth) and represent Louisiana well. Let's remember, this is the Superbowl. Let's have some class.
(Seriously, why does every national TV outlet find the one uber-redneck in the crowd and focus in on him/her? REALLY?)
And, btw, if anyone knows Bobby J's number, give our ol' governor a call and tell him (and our university president) that everyone's either going to be euphoric or despondant on Monday, so we don't need to go to school or work Feb. 8. Why bother? Half of Louisiana's going to be "sick" anyway -- and that includes about half my students.
I wish I had taken a picture of all the Saints signs I've seen over the past few weeks. Restaurants, oil change places, billboards -- we're all cheering for the Saints. I almost feel sorry for Manning & Co. It's hard to go against the team that everyone wants to win.
(Almost feel sorry for them. But almost really doesn't count.)
We're in Miami. We're in the Superbowl.
Let the nailbiting begin!!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Geez, Louise, WHAT?!!!
So as I flipped my calendar to February, I realized something monumental:
My half-marathon is in 28 days.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathebreathebreathe.
This realization resulted in my training buddy receiving about a dozen IMs and regular messages from me detailing tentative running schedules, goals we need to achieve, etc. I'm sure she was thankful when I got off Facebook. ;)
This month, we have to be diligent.
This month, we have to make all of our runs.
This month, somehow, we still have to get enough sleep to survive.
This month, we cannot get injured. (Seriously, do you know how royally TICKED I would be if I twisted my ankle or something at this point in the game??)
If anyone else there is running/exercising, join up at the DailyMile. It's a cool little feature I just discovered, and Brooke uses it, too.
Oh, and one last thing: Apparently, I fixed the coffee maker. Don't know how, but now it gives me coffee with one gentle push. With one hand. Totally the opposite of how it acted the first time. Go figure. I'm just happy I (*cough* well, the hubby) don't have to stand in line and return it. I have no patience for lines.
Tonight: Three (or five?) miles!!!
My half-marathon is in 28 days.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathebreathebreathe.
This realization resulted in my training buddy receiving about a dozen IMs and regular messages from me detailing tentative running schedules, goals we need to achieve, etc. I'm sure she was thankful when I got off Facebook. ;)
This month, we have to be diligent.
This month, we have to make all of our runs.
This month, somehow, we still have to get enough sleep to survive.
This month, we cannot get injured. (Seriously, do you know how royally TICKED I would be if I twisted my ankle or something at this point in the game??)
If anyone else there is running/exercising, join up at the DailyMile. It's a cool little feature I just discovered, and Brooke uses it, too.
Oh, and one last thing: Apparently, I fixed the coffee maker. Don't know how, but now it gives me coffee with one gentle push. With one hand. Totally the opposite of how it acted the first time. Go figure. I'm just happy I (*cough* well, the hubby) don't have to stand in line and return it. I have no patience for lines.
Tonight: Three (or five?) miles!!!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Caffeinated Randomness: I need caffeine
If this doesn't classify as caffeinated randomness, I don't know what does.
So. I'm on the hunt for a new coffee maker.
I inhereted my old Krups coffee maker from my parents. Immediately, I felt a connection. Here was a coffee carafe that was not only stainless steel, but it kept my coffee warm for hours -- without warming the surface of what it touched. Cool on the outside, hot on the inside. Gorgeous.
Unfortunately, as my house is a small cottage and we have a smaller kitchen than I had in our apartment, my coffee pot had to be stored on the washing machine. And, due to loading too many clothes in said washing machine, it might have fallen off a time or two. But it was stainless steel. It made it through.
This week, though, it's been on its last leg. The filter holder has not been letting water through. I washed the coffee pot with a half water/half vinegar solution. Didn't touch it. Oh, and just for funsies, then the filter holder wouldn't close.
So at 9:30 p.m. last night, I went online browsing for a new coffee pot.
At 10:30 p.m., we had purchased one from Wally World.
It's a Hamilton Beach coffee pot, one that looks pretty awesome and makes 10 cups of coffee at a time. I really wanted a Keurig coffee pot, but they only have single-cup brew options. I drink four cups at a time. Not gonna fly.
I was more than a little excited to try out the new HB (for more reasons than one; stay tuned). I read good reviews about the product and felt it was the best option money and coffee-wise. I got everything ready last night so I would be able to drink my first cup at 7 a.m.
As you can see from the picture, the HB has a cool design: you put your coffee mug up to the machine, and it dispenses coffee. It's supposed to be very easy. In fact, the box advertised that it was a way to get coffee with just one hand.
Unfortunately, when I went to press the button for the coffee, nothing came out.
Hmmm...
I pressed a little harder. Nothing.
Finally, I placed my left hand against the back of the coffee pot and slammed my mug (hey, it's 7 a.m. and I need caffeine!) against the button. Finally, with extra strain and using both hands, I was able to get coffee.
What the heck??!!!
I looked at the box again. I can't remember at the moment exactly what it said, but, in my mind, it taunted me with a hand gently pressed against the button and receiving coffee. Jerk.
I'm hoping to take the machine back tomorrow morning and get another one. Same one. I'm hoping this particular one is simply defective.
But...in case it's not, what kind of coffee pot do you use?
***BTW.....
I have exciting news.
Really exciting news.
Superman landed a job at his dream place to work.
EEEKKK!!! =D
So. I'm on the hunt for a new coffee maker.
I inhereted my old Krups coffee maker from my parents. Immediately, I felt a connection. Here was a coffee carafe that was not only stainless steel, but it kept my coffee warm for hours -- without warming the surface of what it touched. Cool on the outside, hot on the inside. Gorgeous.
Unfortunately, as my house is a small cottage and we have a smaller kitchen than I had in our apartment, my coffee pot had to be stored on the washing machine. And, due to loading too many clothes in said washing machine, it might have fallen off a time or two. But it was stainless steel. It made it through.
This week, though, it's been on its last leg. The filter holder has not been letting water through. I washed the coffee pot with a half water/half vinegar solution. Didn't touch it. Oh, and just for funsies, then the filter holder wouldn't close.
So at 9:30 p.m. last night, I went online browsing for a new coffee pot.
At 10:30 p.m., we had purchased one from Wally World.
It's a Hamilton Beach coffee pot, one that looks pretty awesome and makes 10 cups of coffee at a time. I really wanted a Keurig coffee pot, but they only have single-cup brew options. I drink four cups at a time. Not gonna fly.
I was more than a little excited to try out the new HB (for more reasons than one; stay tuned). I read good reviews about the product and felt it was the best option money and coffee-wise. I got everything ready last night so I would be able to drink my first cup at 7 a.m.
As you can see from the picture, the HB has a cool design: you put your coffee mug up to the machine, and it dispenses coffee. It's supposed to be very easy. In fact, the box advertised that it was a way to get coffee with just one hand.
Unfortunately, when I went to press the button for the coffee, nothing came out.
Hmmm...
I pressed a little harder. Nothing.
Finally, I placed my left hand against the back of the coffee pot and slammed my mug (hey, it's 7 a.m. and I need caffeine!) against the button. Finally, with extra strain and using both hands, I was able to get coffee.
What the heck??!!!
I looked at the box again. I can't remember at the moment exactly what it said, but, in my mind, it taunted me with a hand gently pressed against the button and receiving coffee. Jerk.
I'm hoping to take the machine back tomorrow morning and get another one. Same one. I'm hoping this particular one is simply defective.
But...in case it's not, what kind of coffee pot do you use?
***BTW.....
I have exciting news.
Really exciting news.
Superman landed a job at his dream place to work.
EEEKKK!!! =D
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Why I love weddings
First off, you get all fancied up...
If you're lucky, you get a ride in a limo or party bus...
If you have a reception somewhere other than a Baptist church, there's also DANCING...
Superman is on the left, and the groom is on the right.
Friends K and J (which, oddly enough, are mine and Superman's initials as well...)
You get to reuinte with old friends...
And, if you've had a successful night, you end up looking like this:
If you're lucky, you get a ride in a limo or party bus...
If you have a reception somewhere other than a Baptist church, there's also DANCING...
Superman is on the left, and the groom is on the right.
Friends K and J (which, oddly enough, are mine and Superman's initials as well...)
You get to reuinte with old friends...
And, if you've had a successful night, you end up looking like this:
Monday, January 25, 2010
We're going to the SUPER BOWL!!!
What. A. Night.
What a weekend!! Seriously, I know everything can be improved on, but I would have been hard pressed to have a better weekend.
Two of my close friends married, and Superman and I were in their wedding. And the Saints are going to the Super Bowl.
WHO DAT!!! WHO DAT!! WHO DAT SAY GONNA BEAT THEM SAINTS! NOT THE CARDS AND NOT THE VIKINGS AND WE'RE NOT GOING TO LET THE COLTS WIN EITHER!!!
(Can you tell I didn't sleep last night? I tried, I really did, but I kept thinking about that win.)
To signify this historic win, I want to relive some of my favorite Saints Facebook posts from last night...
Identification: Saints -- Drew Brees, Reggie Bush, Pierre Thomas.
Vikings -- Brett Farve, Adrian Peterson.
Before the game...
I have saintxiety...
I'm even wearing Kim Kardashian's perfume...it's all for you, Reggie...
43 years we’ve waited. I’m not sure I can wait another 40 minutes.
Francophile prediction: today will be a good day for NFL players named "Pierre."
During the game...
I'd ask Favre if he wanted cheese with that whine, but the entire city of Green Bay would set itself on fire.
Someone explain to me how that's a personal foul? And let me guess, the announcers think, "That's a good call."
Horse manure penalties.
Is it just me, or do the refs and the Vikings need to get a room? Seems like there's a lot of love on that field.
Put the refs on a parade float during Mardi Gras since they love throwin so much...Let em throw some beads rather than flags!
Reggie, will you be my Valentine? Check yes or no.
Dear Reggie: the Vikes would like to thank you for their next TD.
Oh, nah! Vikes get the ball on a muffed punt. Bad Reggie, bad!
Welcome back, Butterfingers Bush.
Adrian Fumbleson. Thank you, sir!
The Saints are serving up FUMBLAYA!
After the game...
And that's it. My voice is officially. gone.
Legally Blonde revised quote: "Saints fans get endorphins--endorphins make people happy and happy people just don't shoot their husbands... they just don't.” Crime rates will be lower tonight thanks to the SAINTS!!!
The whole neighborhood is screaming!!!!!!!
Sorry, Pro Bowl, Drew Brees has other plans. Geaux Saints!
Long time coming. I'm second-lining down my street right now. Geaux Saints! Who Dat? Not the Colts! Geaux Saints!
What people outside of New Orleans don't understand is that this is SOOOO much more than football for us.
Kudos to Farve, who played one heck of a game. The man's got class, and I respect him for that. But...GO SAINTS!!!!!
See you in the Super Bowl in two weeks, Peyton Manning!!! We're ready!!!!
What a weekend!! Seriously, I know everything can be improved on, but I would have been hard pressed to have a better weekend.
Two of my close friends married, and Superman and I were in their wedding. And the Saints are going to the Super Bowl.
WHO DAT!!! WHO DAT!! WHO DAT SAY GONNA BEAT THEM SAINTS! NOT THE CARDS AND NOT THE VIKINGS AND WE'RE NOT GOING TO LET THE COLTS WIN EITHER!!!
(Can you tell I didn't sleep last night? I tried, I really did, but I kept thinking about that win.)
To signify this historic win, I want to relive some of my favorite Saints Facebook posts from last night...
Identification: Saints -- Drew Brees, Reggie Bush, Pierre Thomas.
Vikings -- Brett Farve, Adrian Peterson.
Before the game...
I have saintxiety...
I'm even wearing Kim Kardashian's perfume...it's all for you, Reggie...
43 years we’ve waited. I’m not sure I can wait another 40 minutes.
Francophile prediction: today will be a good day for NFL players named "Pierre."
During the game...
I'd ask Favre if he wanted cheese with that whine, but the entire city of Green Bay would set itself on fire.
Someone explain to me how that's a personal foul? And let me guess, the announcers think, "That's a good call."
Horse manure penalties.
Is it just me, or do the refs and the Vikings need to get a room? Seems like there's a lot of love on that field.
Put the refs on a parade float during Mardi Gras since they love throwin so much...Let em throw some beads rather than flags!
Reggie, will you be my Valentine? Check yes or no.
Dear Reggie: the Vikes would like to thank you for their next TD.
Oh, nah! Vikes get the ball on a muffed punt. Bad Reggie, bad!
Welcome back, Butterfingers Bush.
Adrian Fumbleson. Thank you, sir!
The Saints are serving up FUMBLAYA!
After the game...
And that's it. My voice is officially. gone.
Legally Blonde revised quote: "Saints fans get endorphins--endorphins make people happy and happy people just don't shoot their husbands... they just don't.” Crime rates will be lower tonight thanks to the SAINTS!!!
The whole neighborhood is screaming!!!!!!!
Sorry, Pro Bowl, Drew Brees has other plans. Geaux Saints!
Long time coming. I'm second-lining down my street right now. Geaux Saints! Who Dat? Not the Colts! Geaux Saints!
What people outside of New Orleans don't understand is that this is SOOOO much more than football for us.
Kudos to Farve, who played one heck of a game. The man's got class, and I respect him for that. But...GO SAINTS!!!!!
See you in the Super Bowl in two weeks, Peyton Manning!!! We're ready!!!!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
It's a love/hate relationship
WOO HOO! Today is D-NO Day (Departure for New Orleans Day)!!! WHO DAT?! S AND C DAT!! Wedding day is tomorrow!!
Superman should be so proud.
I sent him a joking text message a few days ago saying, "I hate you because now I'm in love with sports." He replied something about indoctrination, brainwashing, and stuff like that. I don't know. I'm not always the best listener. But apparently something has clicked lately.
Let's back up: Growing up, I didn't watch sports. At. All. I may have gone to church Super Bowl parties, but it was always to watch the commercials. I couldn't have cared less about the game. I played tennis in high school. Did I watch tennis on TV? Maybe for five minutes.
In college, I tried going to some football games. I mean, everyone else did (well, actually, everyone else didn't, as I went to a suitcase college, but you get the idea). I got bored before halftime.
In fact, I remember dating a guy and asking Superman (remember, we were buds for a while before we started dating) what I should get him for Christmas. Here's how the conversation went:
Superman -- "Well, what sports does he like?"
Me -- "Uh...I dunno."
Superman: "Wh-? What? How can you not know what sports he likes or what his favorite team is? That's what you base his gifts off of!"
Yep.
After I started dating Superman, I realized exactly what a sports fan is. He went to football games. He went to basketball games. He went to baseball games. And any game he didn't get to go to, he watched on TV.
We married, and Superman became a sports information director for our alma mater. He continued with this occupation for four years, in which time I learned that each team actually has more than one coach -- you have the defensive coach, the offensive coach, and scores of others. I learned Superman's favorite teams: the Saints and the Boston Red Sox. I learned who my alma mater's coaches for various sports were. I listened to Colin Cowherd, Bill Simmons, and Lord knows who all else.
Most of the time I tuned it out. But here's how it dragged me in: sports also sometimes encompasses pop culture.
Seriously, think about it: A-Rod's crazy behavior during a photo shoot (can't remember which one) and his dating Kate Hudson. Tony Romo and Jessica Simpson. Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian. So when I heard news like that, I listened.
And, while it took about four years, I believe I'm stuck.
Here's how I know.
I was talking to a coworker this morning about a new coaching hire and how the new coach made a funny joke about Mike Leach and was defending the search committee, saying, "Actually, five days is a normal amount of time to hire a coach. Kiffin left UT on Monday, and UT hired Derek Dooley on Friday..." and discussed Brett Farve and the Saints and how the Dome is going to go crazy when the Saints (possibly) retire Deuce's number before the game...
Sigh. Hooked.
Superman should be so proud.
I sent him a joking text message a few days ago saying, "I hate you because now I'm in love with sports." He replied something about indoctrination, brainwashing, and stuff like that. I don't know. I'm not always the best listener. But apparently something has clicked lately.
Let's back up: Growing up, I didn't watch sports. At. All. I may have gone to church Super Bowl parties, but it was always to watch the commercials. I couldn't have cared less about the game. I played tennis in high school. Did I watch tennis on TV? Maybe for five minutes.
In college, I tried going to some football games. I mean, everyone else did (well, actually, everyone else didn't, as I went to a suitcase college, but you get the idea). I got bored before halftime.
In fact, I remember dating a guy and asking Superman (remember, we were buds for a while before we started dating) what I should get him for Christmas. Here's how the conversation went:
Superman -- "Well, what sports does he like?"
Me -- "Uh...I dunno."
Superman: "Wh-? What? How can you not know what sports he likes or what his favorite team is? That's what you base his gifts off of!"
Yep.
After I started dating Superman, I realized exactly what a sports fan is. He went to football games. He went to basketball games. He went to baseball games. And any game he didn't get to go to, he watched on TV.
We married, and Superman became a sports information director for our alma mater. He continued with this occupation for four years, in which time I learned that each team actually has more than one coach -- you have the defensive coach, the offensive coach, and scores of others. I learned Superman's favorite teams: the Saints and the Boston Red Sox. I learned who my alma mater's coaches for various sports were. I listened to Colin Cowherd, Bill Simmons, and Lord knows who all else.
Most of the time I tuned it out. But here's how it dragged me in: sports also sometimes encompasses pop culture.
Seriously, think about it: A-Rod's crazy behavior during a photo shoot (can't remember which one) and his dating Kate Hudson. Tony Romo and Jessica Simpson. Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian. So when I heard news like that, I listened.
And, while it took about four years, I believe I'm stuck.
Here's how I know.
I was talking to a coworker this morning about a new coaching hire and how the new coach made a funny joke about Mike Leach and was defending the search committee, saying, "Actually, five days is a normal amount of time to hire a coach. Kiffin left UT on Monday, and UT hired Derek Dooley on Friday..." and discussed Brett Farve and the Saints and how the Dome is going to go crazy when the Saints (possibly) retire Deuce's number before the game...
Sigh. Hooked.
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