So the Huskers lost on Saturday.
I don't want to talk about it.
Like most college football fans, we take our losses very hard.
I always take the first loss the hardest, but probably for different reasons than most.
For starters, I go into every season believing with my whole heart that we will go undefeated.
Naturally, I'm disappointed when the first loss happens this early in the year.
The other thing I hate about losing, is the way it affects excitement levels.
And overall tailgating fun.
I fear a day when the Huskers are so mediocre people will just stop caring.
The kegs will go dry and the portable grills will stop burning.
And I won't have a reason to drink a Bloody Mary at 9 a.m.
But that won't ever happen, right?
I mean Iowa still tailgates don't they?
Anyway, when things started to turn dark in the game Chris and I left Kirkwoods
and came home to eat our sorrows away.
We ordered a pizza, and while we were waiting for our pizza to arrive
we cooked a frozen pizza.
#trailertrashproblems
So we ate and mourned in the privacy of our own home.
Soon enough, we just said screw it and figured we might as well go to bed.
Against my better judgment, we left our mess on the coffee table and decided to clean in the morning.
(uneaten pizza, leftover breadstick bites, marinara, ranch, ext...)
It was basically a scene straight out of Honey Boo Boo Child.
The only thing missing was June lying under the table with her pitchfork toe
and neck crust flakes.
Yeah. I just took it there.
Now the following events are a bit fuzzy. But here's what I know:
Harlow got up sometime after we went to bed (he rarely does this.)
He remained in the living room for an uncertain amount of time.
At one point he woke me up from the side of the bed holding a bottle of ranch in his mouth.
I shit you not, this happened...
I didn't think anything of it. Here's some advice,
if your dog ever wakes up in the middle of the night with a bottle of ranch in his mouth-
think something of it.
and turned off the TV.
Lesson to be learned: don't ever believe the Huskers will have an undefeated season.
Not until we get rid of Bo. I want Carl back.
I don't want to talk about it.
Like most college football fans, we take our losses very hard.
I always take the first loss the hardest, but probably for different reasons than most.
For starters, I go into every season believing with my whole heart that we will go undefeated.
Naturally, I'm disappointed when the first loss happens this early in the year.
The other thing I hate about losing, is the way it affects excitement levels.
And overall tailgating fun.
The kegs will go dry and the portable grills will stop burning.
And I won't have a reason to drink a Bloody Mary at 9 a.m.
But that won't ever happen, right?
I mean Iowa still tailgates don't they?
Anyway, when things started to turn dark in the game Chris and I left Kirkwoods
and came home to eat our sorrows away.
We ordered a pizza, and while we were waiting for our pizza to arrive
we cooked a frozen pizza.
#trailertrashproblems
So we ate and mourned in the privacy of our own home.
Soon enough, we just said screw it and figured we might as well go to bed.
Against my better judgment, we left our mess on the coffee table and decided to clean in the morning.
(uneaten pizza, leftover breadstick bites, marinara, ranch, ext...)
It was basically a scene straight out of Honey Boo Boo Child.
The only thing missing was June lying under the table with her pitchfork toe
and neck crust flakes.
Yeah. I just took it there.
Now the following events are a bit fuzzy. But here's what I know:
Harlow got up sometime after we went to bed (he rarely does this.)
He remained in the living room for an uncertain amount of time.
At one point he woke me up from the side of the bed holding a bottle of ranch in his mouth.
I shit you not, this happened...
I didn't think anything of it. Here's some advice,
if your dog ever wakes up in the middle of the night with a bottle of ranch in his mouth-
think something of it.
Look at this photo, and then tell me Harlow wasn't desperately trying to get this open.
I can only assume that he's seen Chris and I coat our pizza in it and therefore wanted to try it out himself.
sidenote: I only like ranch with pizza. and typically only after a few libations.
So the next morning I learned what Harlow had been up to.
The remaining pizza was gone.
The napkins we used were torn to shreds.
The marinara tubs for the breadsticks were licked clean. And lying on our white couch...
And the box for the breadsticks was almost completely chewed in half.
Harlow had himself a little pizza party.
I'm quite sure he had this planned out the second we shut the pizza boxand turned off the TV.
Lesson to be learned: don't ever believe the Huskers will have an undefeated season.
Not until we get rid of Bo. I want Carl back.
