We took a little ole family trip up to Oklahoma this weekend to visit bubba and sissy.
Unlike their wiser older sister, they decided to bypass the magnificent institution that is The University of Texas for (drumroll please....) The University of Oklahoma.
Are the Okies dyslexic, too? Shouldn't that be UO?
The only reason I am okay with this is that OU reminds me of Lubbock. It's flat, cold, and there is nothing to do but drink. And Standerfers can do that quite well.
In typical fashion, I had many strange things happen to me this weekend. Sometimes I feel like there is a hidden camera crew following me around. I also discovered that this must be genetic. Let's start from the beginning.
We packed up the trusty Escalade on 22s and headed for the northern border of Texas. Due to the fact that my dad needed his signature Big Gulp Diet Pepsi and the gals had to use the Ladies' Room, we stopped in Ardmore, OK.
Last time I stopped in Ardmore was when my co-worker Katherine convinced me to go up to Oklahoma for Memorial Day. We stopped to get gas and what-not and "coincidentally" saw a shirtless drunk being arrested at the McDonald's across the street. I do believe this probably happens on a frequent basis, despite Katherine's objections. Don't get me wrong, not all of Oklahoma is like this. Actually, I had a great time in Oklahoma City, but Ardmore is quite possibly the butthole of America. Braum's is the best thing about the city.
Back to the point. We stopped at the gas station and followed the yellow brick road to the women's bathroom made for munchkins. You may find it creepy that shower curtains had replaced stall doors, but if a solid barrier had been there, you would have peed all over yourself trying to wedge your knees in between the toilet and the stall door. Thankfully, there was a deadbolt on the door to prevent others from walking in. Not that I really care if they see me hovering over the toilet, but if they had witnessed the photoshoot my mom and I had, it would have been a little awkward.
Most people probably would have just walked out and gone to a different gas station. We, however, decided that hanging out and taking pictures was a better use of our time.
Can we get a little privacy up in here?
On to Norman!
The rest of Friday really wasn't all that exciting. Our waitress couldn;t seem to remember our order, I got carded twice in one hour, the woman at hotel check-in kept making small talk of how the "management kept her hidden during night hours" and that she would "be making coffee next at 4:30 am." Okay, see ya then. We'll have a tea party. Obviously Dad got sent back downstairs when our keys didn't work. I really didn't feel like talking to her again. She was nice enough, but I was extremely distracted trying to figure out if she looked more like Uncle Fester or Grandmama.
It's game day. The Christmas morning of each weekend.
First on the agenda--lunch at my sister's sorority house.
We meandered around for awhile before deciding all we really wanted to do there was get some grub.
BBq is always a good choice. You know what's not? Serving people giant slabs of brisket with not a knife in site. I ate like a caveman in front of the family across from us, who I'm pretty sure we exchanged 5 words with the entire lunch, and then licked my fingers to top it off. It's not that I don't eat BBQ on gameday like this all the time, it's that I am usually highly intoxicated and so is everyone else around me. Who needs plastic utensils when you have 10 perfectly good lifting tools attached to your hands?
My brother and Dad were at his frat house for a steak lunch, so we walked over to meet them after. It didn;t take long to find our next gossip victim.
I'm looking around the house and to my left is a quite large girly with teeny, tiny feet.
Like, I can't believe she can balance, tiny. She must have been wearing children shoes.
She was standing on the steps and I just kept waiting for her to fall over.
I ran to grab my camera out of my Mom's purse, but it was too late. She vanished.
We went on a mission to search the house for her, but had no luck. I think my brother was embarrassed. He may have even thought she didn't exist. But I'm a believer. I saw it with my own two eyes.
Other spottings: a grown man wearing crimson coveralls 2 sizes two small.
It was the male equivalent of a combined camel toe & wedgie. As we were hysterically laughing at this, he put his hands in his pockets and attempted to adjust the ride-up. Yeah, he went there. He totally pulled the old hand in the pocket to fix the undies routine. Comparable to the Hanes wedgie-free commercial.
In less exciting news, we then spotted a horned goose.
I really suck for not getting pictures of these miraculous findings on my phone. But at least you get to experience my mad paint skillz.....
Try not to be too jealous. I actually went to IIGPS.
International Institute for Gifted Paintbrush Students.
Anyway, back to the land of teepees and casinos.
Since my poor little unshaven pledge of a brother can't actually drink at the frat house, we picked up 2 cases of beer and a couple of bottles of liquor. (what? there's 5 of us)
He had polished off his 5th of Jack by the time we headed over to the tailgate. Oh, excuse me, this is incorrect. 8 oz of it were in his flask.
Gotta love a man who drinks liquor though. You know, as opposed to the watered down bullshit they call beer up there. I mean, they even try to lure people into their tailgates by promising "real beer."
No wonder I survived so many rounds of beer pong--losing by the way.
Thanks to my sister's boyfriend.
(Actually my game was completely off, but admitting it in parentheses doesn't count)
Finally, It was time for White Trash Bash 2009!
OU v. A&M
The armpits of Texas and Oklahoma Unite!
I know what you are thinking. Didn't she call Ardmore the butthole and now Norman is the armpit?
Is that physically possible?
Why yes, yes it is. When you Daddy is your father and your brother, weird things happen to your body.
Speaking of, I sat next to a man who was really into giving me high fives.
He found out I was a Texas alum early on and kept making the usualy jokes and giving me "low fives" which graduated to "high fives".
I'm not sure if I reminded him of his daughter or if he was hitting on me. Probably both.
All I know is I wish I had some Purell.
Half time finally rolled around.
It was freezing and it was 40 something-10. Time to go.
Parents wanted to watch the Aggie band, so I said I would meet them downstairs.
While waiting for them I was asked 6 questions by 6 different people:
1. Wanna come to a party with us? ha...
2. You lost, honey? You need to borrow my cell phone? um, no...I'm playing on my iphone in case you hadn't noticed....
3. Got an escort? Need one? disgusted facial expression...eye daggers...
4. You still waitin' here? i've been here 5 minutes and who the hell are you?
5. Hey, any chance you got an 8 ball in your pocket? Ha, just kidding...but seriously, do you know where I can get some cocaine? Huh, I always thought Oklahoma was more of a crystal meth kinda place....
6. Ready to go? Thank God. Yes, mom & dad I am ready to go....
I'm sure anything else I tell you will just be forgotten in loo of the cocaine bandit.
Besides our waiter telling us how sweaty he was, not much else happened anyway.
Except for some old lady losing her husband at the Flyin J on the way home.
He is probably being featured on the highway billboards by now....
"Missing elderly. 77 y/o last seen in truck stop bathroom...."
Always wondered how you "lose" an elderly.
One thing I do know though is that if anyone finds me, I will be returned.
I'm already crotchety at 24.
By 80 I am just going to be one hot mess.
I plan on spending the last 10 years of my life completely liquored up.
It's worked for me so far!