Thursday, November 12, 2009

The Tailgate.

So, we went to the tailgate.

My wonderful sister Hannah and her fan-atic husband Steve have season tickets to the Mizzou Tigers football game. We get one game.

And we want to make the most of it. This year's tailgate was Nov. 7th, a 1 p.m. game against Baylor. 1 p.m. game. In other words, we were officially tailgating by 8:45.

How do you make the most of tailgating before most people (certainly all college students) are normally out of bed on a Saturday?

First, you make omelets:


Of course, you need someone to make the omelets. Ladies, this is up to you: Marry a man who enjoys combining the art of cooking, the love of American sporting events, and the challenges of cooking on a portable campstove while a 4-year-old-boy keeps threatening to accidentally tip the whole contraption over.

In other words, a man like this:

The results?

Happy tailgaters. That's my brother-in-law, Steve--giver of football tickets. We felt omelets were the least we could do, so that's all we did.

What else do you need to tailgate in the early hours?


We spared no expense. That's Andre champagne.

I love this:

I don't think baseball players read this label.

Anyway, Mimosas. The perfect tailgating beverage, and at the top of the list of kinds of alcohol you can drink for breakfast.

Note I'm not pointing that at anyone. I follow directions.


That's my sister, Hannah. She's so nice, I'm actually going to remember to buy her a Christmas present this year!

So now, we're really partying.

Hard Core.

Oh, did I mention my mother was there? Yeah, that's one hell of a tailgate.

This was her normal pose for most of it. She took all the pictures of my kid, and then, when the game started, took him home for us. A wonderful woman, my mother. All the more so because of all the jackasses screaming such choice words as "Horse SHIT!" at the top of their jerky little lungs, like that would help the coach make better play calls. In other words, God bless the woman for taking my son home BEFORE it got ugly.

Moving on. So, as you can see, we are a perfectly normal group of people, sipping our mimosas and dining on our custom-made omelets at 9 in the morning in a parking lot. How do I know we're normal?

At least we weren't dressed like Waldo.

Seriously. Waldo showed up next to our area and played a little catch with his buddy, Nanook of the North over there. This outfit was a joy to begin with, but the hat was made all the more special that it was about 70 degrees outside by this point. (Yes, November. We got lucky). So this hat, much like this poor sap's pants, was something he chose to put on. Willingly.

So we drank our Mimosas, ate our omelets, and basked in the late fall sun. Then we went to the game with jackasses and watched the home team lose (which only made the jackasses jackier, really). Afterward, we went home, watched Wall*E, and crashed hard.

The next morning, we were all dragging, so I let my kid dress himself. Oh, who am I kidding? I always let him dress himself.

Note that it's the accessories that make this outfit. A Pooh-Bear fleece pull-over matched with camo fleece pants is one thing. But throw in his favorite pink bag, the one he uses to carry his toy cars around? Now that's an outfit!

Somewhere, Waldo is laughing.


lucylucia said...

What fun! It's like camping with none of the nastiness.

Anonymous said...

Greatest. Blog. Post. Ever. Well, not really. It's up there though.

Sarah M. Anderson said...

And, Fighting Brimley, you know what really puts the Greatness of this blog over the top? Awesome facial hair. Totally makes it.