I hate USC

Much of my time in the months between September and January are spent by the warm glow of the television. I am a football fan. I have been for many years and I am so thankful I am because I married a major football fan as I have mentioned in other blog posts.

I knew at the delicate age of 16 that I didn’t want to go to some out of state college or division three community college to play basketball. Once college became a somewhat reality I always wanted to go to Boise State University. I am not sure why but I think it was partially because most of my siblings plus their spouses have gone there. Regardless, blue and orange seemed to be my favorite color combination. I have been a Denver Broncos fan my whole life so maybe that had something to do with it. That was my siblings fault too.

Needless to say I went to Boise State University and had a great and somewhat different college experience than most. I am also happy to say that I really got into Boise State football which was one of the highlights of my college time. If any of you follow college football you can see that Boise State is now usually ranked in the top 25 at least by the end of the season. I was shocked when they were ranked 14 at the beginning of this year because that usually doesn’t happen until at least week ten, if at all. I was even more shocked when the BSC rankings came out last week that Boise State was number 4 in the nation. What the crap!?!?!

So here comes the point of my title posting. I hate USC. I can’t flipping stand them. I have my reasons don’t get me wrong and now I will tell you all about why I hate USC. Number one-why is it every time they run even a one-yard play the band has to play its incessant fight song? I mean, you ran a one-yard play. Not that great. Shut that crap up. Number two-why does every sports caster on ESPN have a man crush on your team? I really don’t mind their coach Pete Carroll which makes me mad because I should not like him. Dang inspiring and good interviewing coach. But EVERYone seems to have some love obsession with whoever the USC quarterback is. Mind you, I have only gotten into college football probably six years ago or so, but I have noticed that there is some serious sports caster love for whoever the USC quarterback is. Not to say that most of them haven’t gone onto fulfilling pro careers though-cough-Matt Lienert.

Here is the main reason I hate USC-would you like to know? EVERY year for the past four, USC has lost to an UNRANKED team yet they still make it into the top ten. Again, I’m not sure about the other years but at least in the past four they have lost to an unranked team. Why? WHY?? Why are they still in the top ten???? It would make sense if they lost to a ranked team….that makes PERFECT sense to me. AND it’s not like the next week they are going to play somebody like Florida, Alabama, shoot even Miami. They are playing crap teams in the PAC-10 conference which may have once been powerful but has recently sucked (not to say the WAC is any better though). So this year for example, they start out ranked number four. Whatever. That’s fine. They jump to number three. Again, I don’t really care. Then comes along Washington on week four-the same Washington Huskies that didn’t win ONE game last year. Guess what happens-that’s right…the unranked Huskies BEAT them. SWEET CANDY-I say. I’m thinking they gotta drop out of the top 15 at least! Any other school (minus Flordia, Alabama, Texas, or Ohio State) would be out of the top 20 easily. I’m giving USC the benefit of the doubt because of the man crushes everyone has on their new ‘true’ freshman quarterback with his bleach blond hair. Sick. At least past number 15 right? Oh no. Don’t even think about it. The farthest they drop is to number 12 in the AP poll and number 10 in the USA Today poll. What? Is California really that cool? The answer is no. I can say that because I lived there….for three months….but still….I did.

I have a little analogy to this situation. When I was a junior in college, I was in an interviewing communications class. It was an upper division course and one that counted towards my degree. I had an assignment to do an interview with someone in a position that I would possibly want after graduation and then give a 10-minute presentation about it. I nailed it of course and got a 90% with the whole assignment 7-page paper included. Now here comes Aakar the foreign exchange person (not student…he just made his own way to the Americas) from Vietnam. He gets up there and proceeds to tell the whole class some crazy story about an American soldier that saved his life during the Vietnam War. I think anyway. He held his hands like they were holding a machine gun and then said something about Davey saving his life. Um…so that was a pretty good interview eh? Whatever, I say, not thinking too much about this presentation but hoping he at least got a ‘C’ to pass the class. As I am walking out of the class I ‘accidentally’ got a peek at Aakar’s grade. He flipping got a 97% on the whole thing. I obviously put a BUTT-load of effort into this and he got a better grade then me? Just because he speaks broken English and the professor felt bad for him? He didn’t even do the assignment right!

This is what I am talking about. Aakar is USC. Just because they had a bad day and are ‘suppose’ to always be good, they keep getting into the top 10…neigh…the top 5 because the voters feel bad that they lost that one tiny little insignificant game-to an unranked team. That is why I hate USC. It has become a bit more of a hate this past week when they jumped from 7 to 5. The reason that is worse is because BSU was at number 5 and now guess what magical number we are…that is right-7 even though we HANDLED (I say we like I am on the team) again…we HANDLED Hawaii.

Regardless of USC passing BSU I still hate USC. Even if BSU loses on Saturday and gets knocked out of the top 25 all together and if USC loses and goes to number 10….I still hate USC. Hate is a harsh word and I really don’t use it much but I really wanted my point to get across and I just don’t think the word dislike does this post justice. That would be like saying Zac “roughs” up Jaitz when in fact Zac “dominates” Jatiz. Get the picture?

All I can say to finish this rant up is…GO DUCKS! That is one of the few times you shall ever hear me say, or rather type that.

Steak

This past week my sweet sister Richelle and her husband Ryan rolled into town for a U2 concert. Whilst they were here we got to go out to dinner at Ruster's Rooste which was a basic kick in the pants. This place sits on the side of South Mountain and looks over part of the city. We slid down a slide to get to the dining area which was great minus the part where I prematurely put my feet down and screeched to a halt. We all had steak which was D-licious and at the end we got cotton candy. No joke. AND it was grape cotton candy which I have never in my life had. If you ever have the chance I definitely endorse the grape cotton candy.

Here we all are at dinner . I forgot to mention there is a live band playing during dinner too which was fantastic.

Here is a big ol' bull of sorts. It smelled like Eagle Fun Days because of this beast. I unknowingly began looking for candy on the sidewalk just out of habit.

The slide. Need I say more?

We had so much fun and I am glad we got to hang with my sister and bro-in-law, even if it was just for a night.

On a side note Zac had his 28th birthday! We went to Outback because we had a gift card that was unnecessarily given to me from one of my buddies but still appreciated. I sent him on a scavenger hunt around our complex and then we skyped the fam at night.

I also made a cake that a family of five could share but we handled it. I still can't figure out how my mom makes frosting. BAH!! It was some good ol' times fo sho.

Blimpie is Best

There are few things in the life that I am sure about. For instance, I am 100% sure that Blimpie is better than Subway. I often wonder why then I live within three square miles of four Subways. I am not even kidding about that. Not beefing against Subway and their mediocre subs (that I will still eat especially on Wednesday's because it it $2.79 turkey 6" day right?) So not to beef on the aspect of mediocre sub making but when compared to the deliciousness that is Blimpie with their fresh cut meats and thinly shredded lettuce, kosher pickles and spicy brown mustard.....no comparison right? Another surety is that Jaitz will follow me into the bathroom every single time regardless if he is asleep, eating, or chewing on a toy. And the last for sure thing I know that I shall tell everyone is that the Bears are who we thought they were. That ones for you Zac.

Thus brings us to the unknown which is so much more a part of our lives. I was pretty sure that when we loaded all of our crap into a moving truck (including all my elementary school scrap books and what not) and headed down here to the Arizona for Zac's career that we would be with the company for a bit. Well that bit turned into 1 year and 3 months. Zac just got laid off with pretty much the rest of the country so that is pretty sweet. Not to say we will be leaving Arizona, but right now we don't know what the crap is going on. We could end up in Afghanistan for all we know. Well...probably not that crazy but I have considered getting lost in the 'wilderness' and living off the fatta the land. I think it's time to get back to our roots...you know, hunter gatherer combo? So if anyone knows about jobs out there for a Construction Management grad from BSU (hey the football team is ranked 6th in the nation...selling point) send em' our way...or something.

I am mostly bummed because I was really looking forward to getting to buy some rad clothes for this thing that is growing in my belly. Don't get me wrong I am more happy than not now of days. Just anxious and hungry. Man I am hungry but then when I eat I can't pound it like I usually can. But then I am hungry again in like an hour. And man I want a McDonald's Coke. Alas I must wait. Anyhoo enough about that nonsense-in other news I sprained my wrist at one of my volleyball practices. It was pretty stupid and I am getting better. I get to coach three games tomorrow and I really really like it. I love coaching and I hope I get to keep doing it in one form or another. My teams names are the "Blue Spikers" and the "Thrilling Beatles" they are 6th and 7/8th grade girls. I really have no idea.

I'm Fragrant.

My grandma Bessie was an old school kind of woman. She was very careful of how she spoke and made sure to not get crass. She also hadn't gotten to the turn of the century in other ways she spoke because she still called black people negroes and told my brothers to split three dollars for their birthdays. That was just how she was. The funniest thing she would say when people were pregnant was 'fragrant'. I guess back in the day you just didn't talk about women being pregnant but would say they were fragrant. It shocked me quite a bit when my sister Richelle was pregnant and she mentioned something about her being fragrant. I mentioned yes she does have a nice smelling perfume and showers regularly. So good thing she was fragrant right? Needless to say G'ma Bessie was trying to politely talk about her being knocked up.

I am guessing most of you have figured out by the title of this post that I am in fact not a sweet smelling aroma of wild flowers but I am in fact pregnant, knocked up, impregnated, with child, the bun is in the oven, abundant, anticipating, expecting, as fertile as the nile.....well maybe not that one....fraught, prolific, replete, teeming, parous and my personal favorite....fragrant. I totally knew all of those pregnant synonyms too.

Here is the picture.

If it is a boy his name shall be Seffan or Jeeves (that way he already has a profession picked out for him when he grows up)

If it is a girl her name shall be Sheerah or Dancing Queen.

Football You Bet!

I feel somewhat blessed to be the youngest at times. Yes I didn't ever get to see mom and dad water ski or get into dirt claud fights with my siblings but I did get what a lot of them (meaning my siblings) didn't. And that is knowledge. I learned from Stephanie that your youngest sibling shouldn't be laying on your mothers lap while you are learning to drive stick shift. I promise, you'll get a face full of dashboard. I learned from Richelle that talking to yourself is completely fine as long as you don't get caught. I learned from Stan that Abba will never die. I learned from Roger not to throw the Nintendo controller at a developing boys junk. They get real mad and I am so glad he didn't catch me. But let me focus for a bit on my bigger brothers Stan and Roger. I owe you so much because you see, these two gents taught me about one of the most important things in life....Football. Falderah you say? NEIGH! Do you know who I am married to? If it weren't for my brothers and their willingness to teach me about football at such a young age (including running pass patterns in the back yard), I could possibly be in marital strife right now.

This last weekend was the first of the college football season. This last week was particularly intense because BSU was playing Oregon and it was basically a bowl game. With our orange and blue attire on and Tostitos chips (we only eat Tostitos since the Fiesta Bowl) we settled down to watch the game unfold. Of course as we all know we, meaning Boise State (I say we because I am pretty much on the team) well we creamed them. That was on Thursday and we spent the rest of the weekend flipping through college games. However, we did tune into the entire Oklahoma vs. BYU game. There are few times where you will see me cheer for BYU this being one of them. Yes Zac went there for a year and a half. Yes I have had many in-laws grace the bubble that is Provo and yes I CAN'T STAND BYU FANS! And yes Oklahoma can still eat it. Boise State will ALWAYS be better than BYU.

I do truly miss going to the Boise State football games. Zac and I lived right off campus for the first three years of our marriage and it became quite the tradition to trek over to the stadium together. We would hop on the green belt on our blue and orange bikes (no I am not kidding) and ride to the stadium with our cow bells dangling off of our handle bars. We would sit on the second level 50 yard line up for the most pristine viewing of the game....granted we sometimes had to get there three hours before the game started. I seriously get pumped thinking about yelling BOISE and the other side returning STATE right before all the players flew out onto the field. But one of my favorite things was not even necessarily the game. In every program there was a coupon to Chicago Connection pizza that gave you up to 35% off your bill depending on what BSU beat the other team by (meaning if they beat the other team by 35 we'd get 35% off our bill). So on game days like Idaho or Utah State a whole slew of us would book it over to Chicago Connection after the game because we were guaranteed the deal of a lifetime!

Zac and I have access to all the BSU football games this year thanks to the wonderful machine that is the world wide web. We do not have access to Chicago Connection which makes me choke up just a little bit. I guess Grimaldi's will have to do.

I pretty much carved that.

Small Town America

There is something about small town America that just screams my name. I know what you're thinking. Why isn't my name Charleene or Rosanne and quite frankly I ask myself that a lot especially when traveling to and through small town America. I think small towns in America are all completely unique while also being exact cookie cutters of each other. A paradox you ask? Why yes it is. Yes it is.

This past week I was lucky enough to accompany my buddy Gina on such an excursion to small town Arizona. She had the opportunity to play college volleyball at EAC (the Gila Monsters...and yes all you Idahoans the 'G' is silent. It sounds like Hila Monster...in fact I am thinking of silencing all "G's" from here on out.) So me and Hina took a road trip to Thatcher, Arizona so she could play in an Alumni game. Since Thatcher is about three hours away she invited me to be her comic relief for the trip. Plus she knows I am a sucker for small towns and she wanted to show me the ins and outs of Thatcher. No road trip is complete without the frosty beverage and what better place to get one but the beverage stop of the USA...that is right-Sonic.

So we were off after a lovely self portrait of course.

Half the fun of going somewhere is getting there if you ask me. I just sounded a bit like Confucius. The trip to Thatcher was actually quite scenic...I was going to say beautiful but that word has really been overused if you ask me. It was a nice overcast day making the drive divine. This is in Superior, AZ and the second I saw this sign I said "Oh Cooper!!" thinking in my head about the hound dog on Fox and the Hound. Well, we can all see it is Copper and I prove again how much I love still paying for my student loans.

The highlight for me on the trip down was the stop in Top of the World, AZ. No joke. That is the name of the town. I immediately loved it. The air is fresher, the climate cooler, and the people white trashier. In this picture I made Gina look up so now she can say I looked up at the top of the world. Then we had a Titanic moment until we realized that "Jack" says he is 'King of the World' not 'On Top of the World'. The mood was ruined so I let go of Gina after we were pretend flying on the locomotive you see in the picture below. It was a little awkward....not gonna lie.

Then we noticed this sign....

And the man inside the garage behind us saw us see the sign and whip out our camera. This man looked like Santa Claus after rehab and screams out to us "WE GOT T-SHIRTS FOR SALE!" in that hick accent (I will get to that) that so many small towners have. Of course we ask how much hoping for the best and when he replied "TWENTY BUCKS" we roger rabbitted right out of there. So the hick accent. How did this happen? Did the south somehow infiltrate every single small town in America? I have known quite a few people in the Northwest as well as the Southwest that have these crazy sounding southern accents. When I ask them where they are from expecting some answer like Alabama, Kentucky, or Georgia I am SHOCKED when they say something like-Rigby, Idaho-Snowflake, AZ-or Pendleton, OR. Why then pray tell are you speaking in a thick southern accent? I get that we all have some sort of regional dialect but I promise half of the south didn't move into these small towns in america. I have one thing to blame. Country music. Ponder.

Speaking of the South, I found this gem and had to get a pic. I didn't know that people from the Top of the World, AZ were Arkansas Razorback fans. Who woulda known?

So then we stopped to get some lunch at the burger barn Gilbert. I can't remember what the name of this place was but it was a Mexican joint that also made a killer burger. And that is when this happened.

And yes ladies and gents, that is a woman. HEYO!

I grew up in somewhat of an Enigma of a town. When we moved to Eagle, Idaho in 1986 the town had about 1,000 souls. It was a small town for sure. Here is the thing though...it is a suburb to Boise which is of course the capital of the state and the largest city. So I had the best of both worlds. I could still hop on my bike and go to the drug store and buy candy cigarettes and fire jolly rancher sticks but if my mom (or Teresa) wanted to take me to the zoo or museums it was only a 20 minute drive. So when I am traveling through these small towns that aren't very close to anything of a metropolis I ask myself a few questions. The first one that comes to my mind is what the heck do you do out here for fun? I am sure lighting the interstate on fire or sitting for an entire day in the apple tree eating unripened apples and then crapping your pants would be fun for a little bit (sorry Ross) but then what? Then I notice how everyone of these small towns have a high school and on that property is a football field. That is one thing I LOVE so much about small towns. The whole town comes out to football games, basketball games, and other high school functions. That stuff is golden.

So Thatcher is a lot like that. It reminds me a lot of Rexburg (back in the days of Ricks College) but not hilly, cold, windy, and way more black people on the football team. The whole town lives for EAC and it is wonderful. So Gina pretty much dominated in the Alumni game and I was thoroughly entertained. I have never seen college volleyball live so I had a rad time. After the game we went to the football scrimmage and then got fed by the college. I had a chili dog which got burped up the entire way back home. Sick.

To get to and from Thatcher you have to travel across a HUGE indian reservation or as we say from the last posting-the rez. A few years ago the government had to go and instal a chain link fence on both sides of the highway because drunk indians kept wandering out into the road and would get plowed over by cars. Needless to say the entire distance on the rez my eyes were wider than a ten year olds on christmas morning. I was getting ready to shriek if I saw anything that resembled a human. I accidently did scream when I saw a saguaro and thought it was a man holding two six shooters in his hand. My bad. We had so much fun in Thatcher that we forgot to take anymore pictures. But trust me...they would've been good.

In the end, I had a right good time with Gina and I loved Thatcher and all the towns in between. But I do have to say....I also love Target and the fact that it is two minutes from my house. How is that for a paradox. BURN!

The Rez

As some of you know I don't do much in my life. Don't get me wrong, I totally enjoy not doing much and basically getting to do what I want. I feel bad because I probably should be at a job that I make okay money at and sit in a cubical and get carpal tunnel from typing too much (for the record, I am a wicked fast typer) so I could contribute financially to lets say my still predominant student loans (hooray for Comm. majors!) and work an eight to five job with an hour lunch that would be spent day dreaming out my car window about not being in a parking lot eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a 100 calorie pack pudding at its side because I had to get out of my place of business and would rather brave 115 degree heat in a charcoal black car with black interior because I might puke from the breaths of recycled air that I had been breathing all day....okay, so I don't feel that bad.

This is where my wonderful husband comes in. See I did all the above mentioned plus more details I decided to exclude because I might relapse and curl up in the fetal position and start sucking my thumb again. Because I was a champion and braved those few years while Zac focused solely on school, I now get to do what I want. It was a deal I signed in blood. Well, I spit in my hand and then shook Zac's...he was asleep but I still count it. He is the best right?

So I do try to contribute somewhat to society and I coach youth sports for the city of Scottsdale. I really like my job and I work with fabulous people! So here is the great part. After this week I have about a month and a half until the volleyball season starts up. A bit of me time is what I like to call it.....because five hours of work a day is soooo demanding. I have been an avid runner for a while now until the dreaded March 12th day (see blog posting on that day for some sick pictures) when I bussssted my leg (say busted with a lisp...it is way more fun and funny). I have also done a couple triathlons and have thoroughly enjoyed them. I have made the decision that I am going to step it up and try doing an olympic distance triathlon. Now I really have to do it because I blogged about it....shoot. So I have begun to train and I am on my fourth week of training now. Since I have stepped it up, I now have to go double my bike distance which went from 12 miles to 25 miles.

There is a goofy thing around here in Scottsdale. I will be biking along on the road that has a huge bike lane when all of the sudden it just disappears. It drives me absolutely batty. Mostly because I was that person in high school that would drive real close to road bikers, roll down my window, slap the car side and scream HEY as I passed by to give them a harmless scare. I know that is going to happen to me and I feel like if I have a bike lane I might not go shooting off into the unknown. I have also always gone south for some reason when biking here in Scottsdale. I feel a little more at home here in the dirty south Scottsdale because it isn't pricy (is that the word I am looking for) and I am a little intimidated by streets paved in gold (at least that is what I heard north Scottsdale is like....they won't let me in because I drive a Ford). So I have been looping around ASU campus and weird side streets to try and get my 25 miles in. I will inevitably get home before I have hit 25 miles and so I will loop around the side streets like I am some kind of twilight criterium member.

Today I decided to map out a new bike route and convinced Michelle to accompany me. I dare say that I decided to head up to the north. I gave Gob (my car) a bath, cleaned him up all real nice, put my fake ray bans on, put a fake BMW emblem on Gob and gussied myself up so I could possibly be accepted into the north. Somehow we made it through....probably because Michelle knew all the secret hand signs and facial nods to get us in...she has been in Scottsdale longer than me. Might I say that it is absolutely beautiful and I think the streets were gold. Either that or the setting sun partially blinded me and everything looked gold. So we drove around for quite a while checking the streets and bike lanes to make sure they were sufficient. I have a nice route now locked in and I am pumped to give it a try.

The major problem with my other route is that there are TONS of stop lights that I have to sit and wait at. Just as I am in the zone on my bike ride I have to stop and try not to fall off my bike and look like an idiot in front of all the people in the cars who are looking at my good looking legs in my bike shorts. This new route has hardly any stop lights and I think will run smooth. However, could I stop at that?? Neigh I say. Cue the mystical indian reservation or as we around here like to call it "The Rez".

I have ALWAYS wanted to bike around on the Rez but I have been prone to stop myself for a few reasons. Number one-the bad blood between the white folk and indians in early America times. I totally blame the white folk for this one but I am not sure if it is over-or as the indians might say-that the hatchet is buried. I don't know if that hatchet is buried and I don't want to find out by biking on their land unwelcomed and have it come hurling after me. Number two-stories I have heard through people that are cousins of those people after marriage who owes that person a breakfast at Denny's (eh Victor). Meaning, I have heard stuff that could be bull but who knows. Number three- possible shape shifters (read the Twilight series people). Number four- not a lot of civilization...mostly open land so if I want a gatorade? Forget it. I do not mean this in any way to be insulting. Just things that go through my mind when I think it might be a good idea to bike on the Rez.

Now here are the reasons I REALLY want to bike on the Rez. It is chalk full of farmland. There are fields of green stuff growing EVERYWHERE. It is beautiful and reminds me a lot of Idaho. There aren't any stoplights that can be daunting in slowing my progression. Traffic is pretty slow so I don't have to worry as much that a high school me might be driving by looking for a good larf. The fastest way to bike to Michelle's new house in Utah....I mean Mesa is to go through the Rez to get there. All good reasons right? Plus the sunsets are STELLAR there...not to say I would be riding at dusk.

Anyway, after hitting up the north we took Gob and ventured out into the painted desert to check out the Rez. The whole place is simply square miles of open road. A road bikers dream...well, I am not sure. I don't really consider myself a road biker because I don't have a discovery jersey and I don't wear a live strong bracelet. Plus I don't have clip in peddles which screams rookie. I hate those things. It's like the bike wants you to fall and then has a laugh as it smothers you to the ground because you can't get your foot out. Blek! Then as you try to stand up and unlock your feet some 'real' road biker bikes on by and stops to give you a tutorial on how to use clip peddles. Then I would make up some excuse and try to use big biking mechanical words like shocks (even though road bikes don't have shocks), and kick stand. At least that is what I think would happen.

Anyway, we finished the round on the Rez and watched a picturesque sunset amid the greening cotton fields. Then we talked in wisconsin/middle american accents for a while. Then we went to Ross and picked out dresses if we were to go to Tennessee tomorrow.

So thus begs the question: Do I bike on the Rez or do I not? What say you?