It’s that time of year again, folks!  If you live in NE OH, that means Friday night football. Or, in my case, Friday night band shows sandwiched between some pig skin.

Let me start off by saying that Friday night lights would be infinitely more enjoyable if preceded by Friday night flights.
Of beer. Or wine. Or, hell, vodka.

It’s not that I dislike supporting my daughter in her endeavors with the mighty trumpet; it’s just that in order to do so, I have to be surrounded by people. People who do things like wear 4″ wedge sandals and carry in Starbucks to football games. Or who wear six different buttons of various sporty children while sporting face paint and BOWS, actual BOWS, in their hair.  Or, my personal favorite tonight, who wear a waaay too tight t-shirt reading “BEAST MODE”, complete with beer belly and sans any neck that I could see. I think I even spotted Reba McIntire tonight!  She looks so much more suburban in person.

So there I sat, in my jeans, t-shirt, & flip flops, obviously way out of my element at “Infocision Field”. Yes, that’s right: our high school football field has a sponsor. A SPONSOR. We also have a very fancy Bulldog:

As you can imagine, our Green High School Bulldogs come charging through the mouth pregame, sporting their–wait for it–orange and black uniforms. Naturally. Wouldn’t this make so much more sense with vodka?!

Alas, I left my flask at home and braved the game sober.  It’s not a move I would recommend.  I’m not cut out for Suburbia, it seems.  I’ve always thought of myself as an extrovert, but in these situations, I’m wondering if I’m not secretly a Communist. Or Anarchist since I think Communist at least implies some sense of community (forced or otherwise!).  Luckily, my dad shows up for the first half, so I’m not yet the odd lady with the steno notebook scribbling away.  That comes during the second half.  Well, the scribbling part comes during the second half.

I’m no scientist, but I did note that the stands emptied considerably after half-time, and the score of the game at that point was 17-16, us.  My hypothesis then, is that the audience really IS here just to see the band.  I’m not making this up.  It’s the scientific method.  Don’t blame me; blame Bacon.  Mmmm.  [I feel it’s my duty here to share with you that bacon vodka in a Bloody Mary is kind of like waking up in a five star hotel:  decadent and delicious.  You wish you could do this every day, but you/your liver couldn’t afford it.]

Look how cute my kid is! 😉  [Side note:  Hats off to the band directors at GHS who, when learning the temp was supposed to be in the 90s with a chance of rain, decided to let the kids wear their summer uniforms.  That way, if the rains came, they’d wear their raincoats over shorts instead of wool.  It doesn’t happen often, but occassionally common sense prevails.  We’re not in a professional band; this is high school.  No heat stroke for them and no off-the-clock nursing for me, thanks!]

Tonight our Bulldogs pulled out a win AND I made friends with fellow band parents sitting directly behind me.  They were delightful people.  Just don’t ask me their names.  I’m a big picture gal; who needs details?!