Normally, if I’m at the bar watching the game, I’m not tweeting as much. I usually only go on Twitter at the bar when someone is in the bathroom or when they go out to smoke. Or when I decide to stay at the bar by myself, which let’s be honest, that NEVER ends well.

These are the kinds of tweets you get when I’m home and sober watching the game and the Bears choke and lose one more time.

Don’t you want to be following me on Twitter now? Where’s my booze?

I also have things to say about the Penn State thing. Things about the culture of sports, especially football. But I’m afraid of writing about it for fear of looking like an asshole. Because as horrible and disgusting as this all is, I’m not really surprised. But I want to give myself time to logically write a post about that because I have lots of thoughts.

So instead, I’ll show you photos of how I spent part of my day. Hanging out with the Chicago Bulls mascot, Benny the Bull, as he handed out free rides on the train. AND! I even got to meet Benny outside his costume, even if he didn’t blow his own cover and talked about himself in the third person.

Happy Friday!

So, THANKS!

The side-by-side photo was an afterthought. I wrote the post not planning to put a photo in. But because I was a little discouraged and knew I had the “before” photo from the Biggest Blogging Loser contest, I figured it would help me to see the change, right in front of my face. And between seeing that, and you all commenting that you saw it too, it was awesome and made me remember all the progress I have made, even if I’m still in the same size pants. And made me put down the burrito the size of my head.

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So did everyone have a lovely holiday weekend? I’m just going to leave it at that, since that covers Easter and Passover. Which, speaking of, I celebrated both!

These past two weekends were two busy weekend and ones I was fretting just a bit.

Last weekend was The Weekend of Bridal Showers, with my friend Jayme’s on Saturday (which led to too much drinking and me missing the bachelorette party because I thought I could take a 10 minute “cat nap” after 7 hours of drinking and actually get up), and my cousin Jaime’s on Sunday. It was a long weekend, but I was glad I could help both ladies celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

This past weekend was The Weekend of Religious Things and Lots of Driving. It started when I drove up Friday evening to Milwaukee to visit my second family, the Martells. I had a small window available to go visit them while they were in Wisconsin for Passover, so I made sure to fit them in. And it was worth every single second. I hadn’t seen them since I was up to Toronto in October and man, I really miss all of them so, so much. I pretty much vowed that I can’t go that many months in between seeing them anymore.

I spent the night and then on Saturday afternoon, I drove down to my sister’s house, because my oldest nephew, Tommy, was getting baptized and making his First Communion at the Easter Vigil mass on Saturday night. And I’m lucky enough to be his Godmother. (It’s interesting that people keep making me the Godmother to their children when I never go to church and when I do, I end up talking to Skyler about stinky feet and making Shrek jokes whenever someone says Donkey.) (No, really.)

The mass was loooooong and it involved eight different readings and standing at the front of the church through the longest church song ever while Tommy was getting ready to be baptized. But then Tommy was dunked in a tub of water, and the priest made sure to give him the full treatment and he was soaked. So that was kind of worth it.

Sunday was Easter. I actually got to sleep in a bit, since because I went to a three-hour mass on Saturday night (getting home at midnight), I didn’t have to go to church on Sunday. I had two dishes to make to bring to my aunt’s house, and they were easy peasy, so it was a relaxing morning.

My Easter time with my family was short, because I had to leave early because this girl offered me a ticket to Game 6 of the NHL Playoffs between the Blackhawks and Canucks! WOO HOO!!

And let me tell you, Jesus is a Hawks fan, clearly, since on his big day, he let me witness one of the most exciting hockey games ever! And I got to see it all in person, and this was my view!

This was the first time I had been to a playoff game, in the stands, for one of my teams. I’ve never been to a Cubs playoff game. I’ve never been to a Bulls playoff game. I worked one of the Bears playoff games a few years ago, but was underneath the stadium, so it didn’t count. I’ve been to playoff games for baseball and football before, but never for MY teams. I obviously always watch the games on TV, in a bar or wherever. And last year I was in a bar with 100 other Hawks fans (and then subsequently out on the street celebrating with thousands more) when they won the Stanley Cup. That was pretty damn exciting. But Sunday night’s game was by far the most exciting sporting event I’ve ever witnessed in person, in the stands!

It was a nail-biter for sure. Or, towel biter if you’re me:

But the game-winning goal in overtime, with just a few minutes left to play, in the net right in front of us, was AMAZING! It was so fucking exciting! I think I picked DJ up and tossed her in the air like confetti! I was this close to hugging the guy next to me! And I don’t think he would have minded! IT WAS JUST THAT AWESOME!!!

So not only did I get home later than expected, I was completely wired and unable to go to sleep. I finally forced myself into bed after midnight. It was a long, long weekend.

But I wouldn’t have changed any single thing about it. This kind of tired is the BEST kind of tired.

And now this post is really not a post either since this is all you’re going to get, plus some photos. Because tonight I went to the Blackhawks game. With my boss. She is in town and asked me this afternoon if I would be interested. And well, I can’t turn down free hockey tickets. Also, we bought them on Stub Hub two hours before the game and got pretty decent seats.

The Hawks lost, but it was interesting to watch a Chicago sporting event through the eyes of a non-Chicagoan. My boss loved the fact that the beer vendors came all the way up to the upper deck. I told her this was one thing I was sure was a Chicago and/or Midwestern thing. She was also surprised at the amount of booze choices and the booze advertisements throughout the game. Welcome to Chicago, we’re a drinking city with a sports problem.

And thankfully I was driving (and with my boss) so I only had one beer. Because God forbid I end up doing something inappropriate, like I am wont to do, especially at sporting events.

The Rod Carew statue in Minneapolis hasn’t been the same since my visit.

So yes, last Wednesday night, for Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, I went out to a bar with some friends (and my half-sister Alix and her friends) and we watched the game. Watching hockey with other people is always very exciting. Especially when your team wins and it means they WIN IT ALL! SHOTS ALL AROUND! SLAP SHOTS AND JAMESON SHOTS!

I was always not of drinking age when the Bulls won all their Championships. I would watch all the celebrations on TV, the people partying on Rush and Division, burning cars on Madison by Chicago Stadium, and I would wish I could be out there too! Maybe not out burning cars or getting arrested, but partying in the streets!

This time, though, I was in the middle of it. We went to a bar in Wrigleyville and we were partying out on the streets after the Hawks won, in a sea of red jerseys and shirts, while the news helicopters flew up above catching all the action. It. Was. AWESOME.

I got home late for a Wednesday night. And my sister Alix was home a lot later than I was, seeing as she is 21 and last I saw her that night, she was being hoisted up in the crowd by some new friends. But some of us are older and had to go to work the next day. But in case you were wondering, Alix and I are most definitely related. Here is the text I got from her. The next AFTERNOON:

As tired as I was the next day, it was worth it to be there the night they won and party with all those people on Clark and just see the city of Chicago get so excited about the Cup. It’s been a long time!

On Friday, I took the day off from work to head downtown to catch the Hawks parade and rally. I wrote about it over on Draft Day Suit, so you should go read it.

It really was one of the most insane things I’ve ever witnessed/been a part of in my life.

I am so glad I was part of it. And got to hear our song, many more times, the song we will never get sick of.

It’s a good thing I don’t talk about jobs and stuff here because then you wouldn’t care to hear about a job I had during my summers in college.

I should probably point out that I’ve never held a retail or service industry job in my life. I never worked in fast food or at the mall or in a restaurant. In high school, I worked for my dad. My freshman year in college I was an usher for ASU football and basketball games, as well as Arizona Cardinals games. And I only did that because I got to usher Super Bowl XXX. After that, I worked in the media relations office in the athletic department. And sometimes I would work Phoenix Suns games. I didn’t do typical high school/college jobs.

I also had a job, during two summers in college, working for a minor league baseball team. I was an intern for the Kane County Cougars, who, at the time, were a Single A affiliate of the Florida Marlins.

It was kind of weird how I got the job. A lady that had previously worked for my dad, Heidi, somehow knew a lady who worked in accounting for the Cougars. And she just happened to be sleeping with the General Manager of the team, as I later found out. So I gave her a call, sent in my resume and basically got the job. I was hired to help answer phones and anywhere else they needed me. I was the low woman on the totem pole. My first few weeks I spent sitting in an office reading a book. And getting PAID for it.

After they figured out I could do other things besides read and answer phones, I spent most of the time working in the ticket office selling tickets and calling groups about their tickets and setting menus for the outings and doing a lot of the things I have done as an event coordinator in other jobs I have had since. But on game days, I basically helped wherever they needed me. I did any number of duties, including working the customer service booth, wrapping hot dogs, making snow cones, throwing cookies out into the stands in the 5th inning and pouring beer, underage I might add. (Actually, when I did pour beer, I was only allowed to pour until someone questioned my age. Even though I was close to 21. And I look young.)

I didn’t mind helping out. It kept things interesting. I hated the customer service booth because people are idiots. And I don’t know how many times I had to tell people “no, I don’t sell hot dogs/t-shirts/beer here.” And I once got into an argument/tiff with some other worker because I got to work the customer service booth, which was apparently a cushy job since I got to sit on my ass the whole game. And apparently I was the GM’s pet. Which they probably realized wasn’t true when I screamed at the GM in my second summer and quit two weeks early. (Funny thing? I have no idea what I was so mad about.)

There was one thing I hated about that job, one thing I prayed to get out of every game – trash duty. You see, in the minor leagues, you don’t have a team of people who clean up the stadium. You basically put your salaried employees and interns on that job. Everyone, including the GM, picked up trash after the game. And let me tell you it was one of the most disgusting things I have ever done. Imagine all the crap people eat and drink during a baseball game – peanuts, beer, nachos, soft pretzels, hot dogs. Now imagine all those things in one soggy pile. Now imagine having to pick said soggy, sloppy, smelly pile up and put into a trash bag.

I think I just remembered why I quit.

I got out of it more often than not. Because I volunteered to count ticket stubs, or clean up the ticket booths or because I was young and needed to get home and needed a nice man to walk me all the way to my car. (I can be very persuasive.) But the times I had to do it were awful. And I can never erase the smell of stale beer mixed with peanut shells from my memory.

Remember this next time you go to a baseball game and toss your peanut shells on the ground instead of in a cup. Some trash person will have to sweep that shit up.

Kirk invited me to go down on Saturday for the qualifying and practice rounds. I reluctantly agreed because well, I don’t much care for racing. And on top of it, I didn’t know what to expect. At the very least, I figured the stadium would sell beer and I would be able to cross “stand in the pit of a race” off my life’s to-do list.

So Saturday morning we headed down to the race track and I was prepared to have shirtless rednecks in RVs shoved in my face. Thankfully, we were VIPs and were in the pit and in the garages. So everyone had shirts on there. It was part of the dress code. (But didn’t stop me from yelling at any hootchie that walked by in a tank top or open-toed shoes that it was INAPPROPRIATE ATTIRE!)

It was one of the coolest things I have ever experienced. In my life, I’ve been to all sorts of sporting events and worked them or stood on sidelines. I’m a bit jaded when it comes to those things because I’ve been there and it isn’t new for me. Let me tell you, this was new. Not only do I not know a single thing about racing, I didn’t realize that today’s race was HUGE! And was the last race of the year! And was going to determine the winner of the points championship or something or other! And that Danica Patrick and Helio Castroneves were going to be there! And I totally know who those two people are! And Helio won Dancing With The Stars! And racers are tiny! And I got close enough to touch them!

Standing in the pit is so much cooler than standing on the sidelines because there is so much going on and it has to happen so fast and one small mistake can RUIN the whole race. We were only down there for practice, but it was still pretty cool to see them change the tires and gas up the car.

Kirk took us around to garage area, where they tweak the cars after practice and work out any kinks.

We hung out all day. We watched the qualifying, which is lame. They go one by one and just try to go really fast. I thought they would have to fake race and there might be crashes. But it was cool to watch. I should have gone to the race today because there was a fire! And some crashes! And a crash in the pit! But it probably wouldn’t have been the best atmosphere since Kirk’s team’s guy didn’t finish the race. Again.

But definitely was such a great experience and one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.

You can check out the rest of my photos here.

My Olympic fever has waned since swimming ended on Saturday night. I just don’t have the same passion for track and field and gymnastics and basketball and anything else. Those people wear too many clothes. And also? Track athletes could learn a thing or two about humility from the USA swimmers. It’s not all about you. But maybe, Usain Bolt, you of the gold shoes, if you could take off your shirt, you might be able to change my opinion. Just a little.

I clearly have an obsessive personality. Clearly. Google does not help this little obsession in these current times. (Current times? I apparently just morphed into an 83 year old woman.) Because now when I’m all “what is Aaron Peirsol doing TODAY?” I just ask Google and I’m flooded with images and then I see him smiling and those pretty blue eyes and photos of his well-sculpted chest and then I realize I HAVE A PROBLEM. (Possibly a job where I had something to do might stop me from doing this.) (TWELVE MORE DAYS! WOOT!)

This is not a new thing. I’ve had my Olympic obsessions in the past. In fact, there is one huge one that stands out and I’m embarrassed to even be telling this. (Between dropping a Star Trek reference Monday and a Star Wars reference Tuesday, I’m pretty sure this post is going to send me to new heights (or lows) of geekdom. It was nice knowing all of you.)

Back in the 1992 Olympics in Albertville, France, I had a Phelpsian/Peirsolian obsession with Alberto Tomba. Tomba was the rage of the winter games that year. Albertville was re-christened Albertoville for the two weeks. He was handsome and charming, a ladies man, a rule breaker and I loved everything about him. I lived for all of his races. He was Tomba La Bomba. All across France that year you could hear the chants of “Tomba! Tomba! Tomba!”

I was so obsessed that I watched for everything that aired about him and looked for everything that was written about him in the newspaper, in magazines, anywhere. In the Age Before Google, I had to rely on hard copies of news publications to get my news.

And get my Tomba news I did.

I cut out every article about him in the paper, every feature about him in the magazines. Anything written about Alberto Tomba, I cut it out and put it in a scrapbook. (Can you feel me wincing at my nerdiness through the screen? CAN YOU?)

I had an Alberto Tomba scrapbook. Oh yes. Yes I did. (*hangs head in shame*)

But he was just so cute and was such a bad boy and I wasn’t the only one who loved him. I swear. It was Tomba madness across the world!

And I’m really wondering why I even had friends back then. Or why I even have friends now. (Who will all be unfollowing me on Twitter by the boatloads once they read this.)

At least my mom will always love me. Even if Alberto never will.

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I wanted to tell you about how I spent my weekend as a cat. How I got home Friday from work, earlier than normal, and took a two-hour nap. And how after getting my eyebrows waxed on Saturday morning, I came home and took a three-hour nap. And how I spent most of Sunday on the couch, alternating between reading my book and taking hour-long naps.

But then I was like well, yeah, people will believe that cats nap. But people won’t believe that cats would wax off their hair. ON PURPOSE.

And then I was going to tell you about the new business that moved into a strip mall on Montrose that I pass on my walk home from the bus. Apparently these people are mad about people passing by and looking in the window. So they put a note on the window that said “Dear people passing by, STOP STARING! WE ARE NOT A ZOO. AND WE HAVE GUNS.”

So I decided I would leave a note the next day that said “Dear asshats who decided to start a business in a strip mall that is MADE OF WINDOWS, they are called blinds. Or curtains. And guns are illegal in the city of Chicago. Don’t worry, I already alerted the police. You’re welcome. And we’re soooo glad you’re in the neighborhood.”

But then I saw they got blinds. And I was a little sad. Because I was proud of my note.

So then I was going to tell you about my growing obsession with the Olympics and hot, young swimmers. But then I didn’t think you needed to see that side of my crazy and how I kill time on nbcolympics.com looking at the bios of athletes. And reading up on my new boyfriend. Good thing I didn’t mention that.

And then I was going to ask if anyone else giggles that the swimming announcer’s name is Rowdy. And if anyone else thinks to themselves “R-O-W-D-I-E that’s the way we spell ROWDIE. ROWDIE. Let’s get ROWDIE. WOO!”

Just me then?

But I will tell you that crazy HR person from last week told me they would like to bring me in for an interview. And he said I should prepare for a FIVE-HOUR INTERVIEW. And he wasn’t kidding. And then I mistakenly asked if he was considering me for CEO because why would an Account Coordinator need to be interviewed for FIVE HOURS? And what can I tell them that I haven’t already told them? Because I’m wondering if there will be a lie detector and if I will finally give up in tears and yell out “I WAS FIRED FOR MY BLOG!” And then storm out of the room.

But then I figured no one really needed to hear any of this. Good thing I never mentioned any of it.

I prepared myself for what was to be a long day. One where a lot of beer was going to be flowing through my blood stream.

I’m very excited. And very squinty.

The game was at noon and the minute they opened that bar, I was there, flirting and chatting with the bartender making it known that I would be BACK THERE OFTEN. Because I was on a mission to drink as many beers as possible in the time allowed.

View from our rooftop on Waveland. Jealous?

Dora the Explorer threw out the first pitch. And then Carlos Zambrano came out of left field (literally) and snatched the ball away from her. And Dora yelled “Swiper, NO SWIPING!” And Carlos said “Awww, man!”

The Cubs were very good this day. They scored lots of runs. Do you know that that means? That means the game goes long and the 7th inning comes later in the day. Why is the 7th inning important? That’s when they cut off beer sales.

Cheers, Cubbies! Here’s to your offensive prowess!

The day moved along. The weather was awesome for a good chunk of the game. It was sunny and warm and I really am blindingly white and need to get some sun.

The Cubs scored runs and I drank beer. I chronicled the day’s drinking.

Schwerer’s cups left. My cups right. Yes, that would be my SEVENTH beer.

And then it was the seventh inning and we needed to STOCK UP on beer!

Yeah, that’s just for two people.

And then it started to drizzle water drops from the sky and we moved inside the building. And drank more beer. Here’s the final damage.

On second thought, maybe I’m not old. Because, dude, that’s 10 damn beers. That’s A LOT of beer.

Other highlights from the game:

• These guys sat in front of us

• Those names are not names of current players on the Cubs. In fact, 10 is retired because that was Ron Santo’s number.
• Getting your own name on jerseys is stupid.
• (Apologies to anyone out there that has that unfortunate problem with a jersey)
• As the sun went behind the clouds and the wind shifted off the lake, it got very cool on the rooftop.
• So I put on my jacket and buttoned it up.
• Some woman made fun of me buttoning up my coat.
• And then told me, because my coat was buttoned, that I must be from the suburbs.
• Which is like telling me I’m fat or ugly or *gasp* NOT FUNNY
• If she wasn’t old, I probably would have hit her. Or tripped her with her hands full of beer.
• Why would buttoning a coat make me from THE SUBURBS?
• After the game, the rooftop people were heading over to a bar down the street.
• We got there and it was PACKED. We couldn’t even move. So we decided to head to Sluggers, which is our stand by because it is so big
• It too was packed.
• So we left and walked a little further to a bar where no one was.
• Proving that I’ve turned into an old lady because I couldn’t even handle a crowded bar after TEN BEERS!
• We ended up grabbing a bite to eat and then Schwerer went to catch the bus and I hopped on the EL.
• But not before stopping at a candy stored and buying a pound of Swedish fish and other gummy candies.
• NOTE TO READERS: Do not buy bulk candy when you’re DRUNK.
• Especially at $8.99/pound
• So I ate my candy, took the train home and passed out on the couch before 6 PM.
• And proceeded to sleep until 9:45.
• And then went to bed at midnight because I was exhausted.
• After less than SIX HOURS of drinking.
• How on Earth am I going to survive in Vegas?

But I had a good time and I will be spending a lot more time at Wrigley this season. If only to prove to myself that I’m not an old fart who can’t go drinking after games because of the crowds. Wah.

Don’t worry, I’m ashamed enough for all of us.