Who moved my cheese?

I went to a party thrown in honor of the Michigan/Michigan State game. I don't like football and was feeling particularly introverted, but I find I can mask these traits by getting really drunk.

Boy, did I (get drunk, that is). My liver is still looking for a place to die, and my brain was hopeless for the rest of the weekend. I took a shower and forgot to wash my hair on Sunday, and tried to open the front door with my key fob repeatedly, so I feel confident in saying I'm significantly stupider for the game. Thank you and fuck you, Big Ten Football. I did have fun, though. I'm a fun drunk asshole, ask anyone!

Anyway, it strikes me that this is the kind of thing that would get a lot of "likes" had I posted an abbreviated version on Facebook. Hey world, I'm dumb, it's so hilarious.

Blogs are more difficult, especially being that this one is public. I can't go into detail about the time I spend whoring and drinking, or my secret life as traveling puppeteer. I can't talk about people who annoy me because they might read it; I can't talk about work because I might get fired, and I can't post risque photos because my arch-nemesis (this is true) would probably take a screen shot and post it all over town with a "for an STD call [my number]" note attached, or something. Plus I have muffin top, a little bit. Anyway, this is all to say I have nothing left to talk about except for my stupid feelings.

I feel a total social disconnect when it comes to sports, particularly football. Most other sports I can enjoy for a period of time before I wind up immersed in an elaborate daydream, but not football. Michigan can marry Ohio State and name their baby Notre Dame for all I care.

I think I've developed sort of an elitist reputation, like I'm too good for sports, or too good for people who like sports, because unless I'm hammered I do tend to retreat from the crowd and find a cat to pet. I wish this didn't happen, because it inspires people to ask me what's wrong, or what's on my mind, and...well, ok, very rarely it is "I hate every single thing about this situation." But mainly it's along the lines of "I wish I had a dog so I could dress him as a banana for Halloween. I want a taco. Leonardo DiCaprio is aging kind of weird. I should have got that necklace at the flea market. I like to look at pictures of baby goats. Crap, I'm out of cheese." These are not the thoughts of someone who thinks sports are beneath her. They are merely the thoughts of somebody who isn't paying attention, and is crazy.

Remember: it's not you, it's my raging untreated ADHD.

When I was a little, little girl, my dad took me to a Michigan football game. I liked the popcorn, the cheerleaders, and the half-time show.

Oh, Football. We'll always have the memories.