I must say, Anthony and I are really fortunate when it comes to having friends. We've got a great group here in the capital city, and they definitely know how to have a good time. Yesterday we loaded up the car with plenty of tailgating food and headed to a friend's house to watch our MSU bulldogs and the New Orleans Saints. Separate games, of course.
I won't act as if I'm some lifelong Saints fan, but my grandfather always pulled for them--he was a sucker for underdogs--and Anthony has always liked them. I think my allegiance truly started post-Katrina. How could you not pull for a team whose hometown needed hope and revitalization as much as New Orleans did? Watching them come out of the tunnel for that first game back was something else, and I was sold. We've been pretty darn loyal ever since. Our posse went down for the Saints vs. Giants game earlier this year, and we had a blast. Anyway, we gathered our small version of the Who Dat Nation, ate lots of food, and pulled the black-and-gold through.
Once the win was clinched, we celebrated. And what better way to celebrate than pushing furniture out of the way and making a dance floor? This is usually our favorite way to spend a weekend night, and it makes me feel like I'm working off some of the calories I've inhaled during the day...a win-win situation. Last night's dance party was kicked off with a selection of some good, old-school country tunes. Good God, I'd forgotten how much I love Reba. When "Fancy" came on, I think every girl there knew the words. The song is pure poetry, I'm telling you. The lady knows how to tell a good white-trash story. Throw in some Brooks and Dunn and Kenny Chesney, and the night was golden.
"And that's the night the lights went out in Georgia."
1 comments:
Y'all sound like you could have fun in a ditch. Making a dance floor in the living room? My kinda people. Kick ass.
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