8 AM) Wake up early after all night drunk. Must have been a good one -- I'm out of ammo and I'm covered in blood. I'll bet the Aggies would be obsessed with me if they could see me now. I drink 4 quarts of gin and then get out of bed.
8:30) I shower and get dressed in usual game day ensemble: black and red cowboy boots, skin tight black pants, red belt, skin tight red shirt, black cape and black matador hat. Under it all, I'm wearing my "Official Mike Leach" long handle underwear, with the BJ Symons picture right on the crotch. Because of my high carb, high malt diet, I can't see my belt to see if the buckle is straight. I ask my wife how I look and she tells me I look like a Zorro impersonator at a gay bar. She's always kidding me! I laugh as I drink 3 bottles of cold duck.
8:45)My wife makes me bacon and eggs for breakfast. I wash it down with a beer. I'm trying to cut back, so I only eat half of the bacon.
9:00) I ask my wife if she's going to the game with me. She's in a slinky, see through black dress and wearing my favorite perfume and those really high black heels. She tells me that she's going to spend the evening at Wal-Mart and won't be back until 4 a.m. Just then, there's a car honks and she darts outside. She gets in the car, which I assume is a cab, and kisses the taxi driver as they drive off. I didn't know her tongue was that long! She knew I was watching her, so she waves at me. She's always kidding me. I drink 2 40 ounce malt liquors as the car weaves down the street.
9:15) I sit down in the den and start coming up with cool new ways to misspell Aggie. Finally, after an hour, I settle on "aigeg." Hah! Those doofuses. When I post this on the Aggie message boards, I say to myself as I down 6 shots of tequila, they're sure going to be soooo jealous of Tech.
10:15) I go outside to practice. First, I tear down the elm tree in my front yard. Then, I pull my revolver and take some pot shots at the house of the Aggie who lives across the street. I have often noted his obsession, even though he acts like he doesn't know who I am. Today, he is screaming at me through his closed door. It appears that I may have winged his kid. Stupid Aigeg! I throw a bottle of Chivas, which I just downed, into the street.
11:00) Game time coming. I poof up my hair with the air compressor in the garage, then shellac it in place. I put on enough gold chains to set off the metal detector at the Abilene airport, even though I live in Lubbock. Finally, the pièce de résistance -- my own special mix of Aramis, Brut, Old Spice and Aqua Velva. It can kill vegetation for 30 feet in all directions. I splash it on heavily, then drink a quart just for good measure.
11:15)I peek in the walk-in closet and notice my wife's side of the closet has been getting more spacious every day, as if she were sneaking her clothes out of the house a little at a time. What a great joker! She's always kidding me! I almost spill a keg of Bir Bintang Indonesian beer on the carpet as I stumble out.
12:00 )I couldn't make it to Stillwater, so I head to the Weasel and 'Tard, a sports bar near the campus, to watch the game on TV. I won't drink and drive, so I pull over every block to drink a sifter of MD 20-20, then I'm back on the road. I'm all about responsibility.
12:30) The usual crowd is there -- angry, bitter drunks who are convinced that everyone wants to be just like them. And their husbands are with them, too. Feeling parched, I slam a kid's sippy cup of Folonari Asti I see on someone's table.
1:00) I get into a fight with someone after I say that the Downtown Athletic Club should give BJ the Heisman Trophy today. This one guy agrees, but says they can't do that until the end of the season. I throw back a flask of Angostura Bitters and then throw some half-assed drunken punches him. Finally, I collapse on the foosball table. "Stupid Aigeges," I try to mumble under my breath.
2:00) It's almost game time. I do that Tech gun thing and everyone hits the floor. Apparently, I learn later, I was really holding a loaded gun and pumped 4 rounds into the ceiling of the Weasel and 'Tard. One of the bullets punctures a pipe and a smelly yellow fluid sprays down on me. I drink enough to fill a high ball glass before the manager figures out how to cut it off.
2:30)It's kickoff. I'm in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours, but it seems as though the team is doing well, or at least that's what the pink elephants tell me. I can't wait to see how we do, and then to get on the Internet and taunt the Aigeges about it tonight.
4:00 a.m. I'm half asleep on the couch as my wife returns home from Wal-Mart. She isn't carrying any bags. I guess she forgot her purse. I say "good night," and she tells me to drop dead. She's always kidding me.
[This message has been edited by Not_a_sip (edited 10/17/2003 11:19p).]
8:30) I shower and get dressed in usual game day ensemble: black and red cowboy boots, skin tight black pants, red belt, skin tight red shirt, black cape and black matador hat. Under it all, I'm wearing my "Official Mike Leach" long handle underwear, with the BJ Symons picture right on the crotch. Because of my high carb, high malt diet, I can't see my belt to see if the buckle is straight. I ask my wife how I look and she tells me I look like a Zorro impersonator at a gay bar. She's always kidding me! I laugh as I drink 3 bottles of cold duck.
8:45)My wife makes me bacon and eggs for breakfast. I wash it down with a beer. I'm trying to cut back, so I only eat half of the bacon.
9:00) I ask my wife if she's going to the game with me. She's in a slinky, see through black dress and wearing my favorite perfume and those really high black heels. She tells me that she's going to spend the evening at Wal-Mart and won't be back until 4 a.m. Just then, there's a car honks and she darts outside. She gets in the car, which I assume is a cab, and kisses the taxi driver as they drive off. I didn't know her tongue was that long! She knew I was watching her, so she waves at me. She's always kidding me. I drink 2 40 ounce malt liquors as the car weaves down the street.
9:15) I sit down in the den and start coming up with cool new ways to misspell Aggie. Finally, after an hour, I settle on "aigeg." Hah! Those doofuses. When I post this on the Aggie message boards, I say to myself as I down 6 shots of tequila, they're sure going to be soooo jealous of Tech.
10:15) I go outside to practice. First, I tear down the elm tree in my front yard. Then, I pull my revolver and take some pot shots at the house of the Aggie who lives across the street. I have often noted his obsession, even though he acts like he doesn't know who I am. Today, he is screaming at me through his closed door. It appears that I may have winged his kid. Stupid Aigeg! I throw a bottle of Chivas, which I just downed, into the street.
11:00) Game time coming. I poof up my hair with the air compressor in the garage, then shellac it in place. I put on enough gold chains to set off the metal detector at the Abilene airport, even though I live in Lubbock. Finally, the pièce de résistance -- my own special mix of Aramis, Brut, Old Spice and Aqua Velva. It can kill vegetation for 30 feet in all directions. I splash it on heavily, then drink a quart just for good measure.
11:15)I peek in the walk-in closet and notice my wife's side of the closet has been getting more spacious every day, as if she were sneaking her clothes out of the house a little at a time. What a great joker! She's always kidding me! I almost spill a keg of Bir Bintang Indonesian beer on the carpet as I stumble out.
12:00 )I couldn't make it to Stillwater, so I head to the Weasel and 'Tard, a sports bar near the campus, to watch the game on TV. I won't drink and drive, so I pull over every block to drink a sifter of MD 20-20, then I'm back on the road. I'm all about responsibility.
12:30) The usual crowd is there -- angry, bitter drunks who are convinced that everyone wants to be just like them. And their husbands are with them, too. Feeling parched, I slam a kid's sippy cup of Folonari Asti I see on someone's table.
1:00) I get into a fight with someone after I say that the Downtown Athletic Club should give BJ the Heisman Trophy today. This one guy agrees, but says they can't do that until the end of the season. I throw back a flask of Angostura Bitters and then throw some half-assed drunken punches him. Finally, I collapse on the foosball table. "Stupid Aigeges," I try to mumble under my breath.
2:00) It's almost game time. I do that Tech gun thing and everyone hits the floor. Apparently, I learn later, I was really holding a loaded gun and pumped 4 rounds into the ceiling of the Weasel and 'Tard. One of the bullets punctures a pipe and a smelly yellow fluid sprays down on me. I drink enough to fill a high ball glass before the manager figures out how to cut it off.
2:30)It's kickoff. I'm in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours, but it seems as though the team is doing well, or at least that's what the pink elephants tell me. I can't wait to see how we do, and then to get on the Internet and taunt the Aigeges about it tonight.
4:00 a.m. I'm half asleep on the couch as my wife returns home from Wal-Mart. She isn't carrying any bags. I guess she forgot her purse. I say "good night," and she tells me to drop dead. She's always kidding me.
[This message has been edited by Not_a_sip (edited 10/17/2003 11:19p).]
