Gulley and I lived on the convenience store diet throughout college. We would stop at 7-11 on the way to class in the morning and start our day with a Big Gulp. Dr. Pepper for her. Real Coke for me. Most days we would each buy a package of powdered donuts to go with our 72 oz. beverage.

After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

We’d head to our Intercultural Communication class and daintily sip our carbonated drinks and eat our powdered donuts while we listened to Professor Gonzales lecture about you know, culture and communication. Obviously, all that sugar and caffeine was causing my brain to short circuit, because I actually made a 13 on a test in that class.

A 13.

I’ll never forget that he was about to pass out the graded tests and gave some lecture about how most people did pretty well, but there was one person who made a 13. Gulley laughed and wrote a note on my paper that said, “Maybe it was you. Ha. Ha.”

It was me.

Ha. Ha.

And after I got that test back, I gathered up my donuts and industrial-sized beverage and headed to my academic advisor’s office to let her know I was dropping the class. I mean, let’s be honest, you can’t recover from a 13.

Anyway, after a hard morning of academic achievement, we would drive back to our apartment and then go back to 7-11 with our roommates to get another Big Gulp. Everyone needs a little afternoon pick me up and what says pick me up better than 144 oz. of caffeine and sugar?

As we talked about our Big Gulp consumption, I had a few thoughts.

1. Did I drink even a sip of water throughout my college career?

2. Why could I not figure out that maybe part of what was contributing to my ever increasing weight was the fact that I was easily consuming 2000 calories a day in beverage alone?

And that’s not counting the Zima.

3. Do college students still drink Big Gulps or have they become extinct with the advent of the Grande Mocha Latte with extra whip?

4. It’s interesting that these days, unless I’m on a road trip, it would never even occur to me to drive to a convenience store for the sole purpose of purchasing something to drink. Sonic, yes. QuikMart, no.

I realize I have rambled enough about this entire subject, but during our Big Gulp conversation, Gulley brought up a memory that I had long forgotten.

Big shock there.

During my first senior year in college and Gulley’s junior year, we lived in a duplex right around the corner from a Quikmart. Needless to say, we were frequent customers making around 4-5 visits a day. It was our standard stop. We even knew all the cashiers.

One night, Gulley’s mama called and asked her, “Do you know somebody named Al?”

Gulley thought about it and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

Her mama said, “Well someone named Al called here looking for you and said he knows you from the Quikmart.”

It was then that we realized that Al was one of the cashiers at our favorite stop. It seems he had gotten Gulley’s phone number off of one of her checks and wanted to ask her out. And no, Al wasn’t exactly date material for a variety of reasons, but first and foremost because he was about 35 which, of course, is ancient. Fortunately, the number on her check was her parent’s home phone number, not ours.

As were laughing about this story this week, I made the comment that, looking back, it’s kind of scary that Al got her phone number off her check.

And Gulley said, “I’m not sure what’s scarier, that he got my number off my check or that I wrote a check for 94 cents to pay for a Big Gulp.”

Hope y’all have a lovely weekend.

**Originally published March 30, 2007**

Ay Carambe. Muchas fiestas this weekend.

See how those four semesters of college-level Spanish are the gift that keeps giving?

Despite my best efforts I have only made it through half of the Fiesta so far.

Ayudame.

That means help me in Spanish. I actually learned that from “Go Diego Go”, not Spanish class.

But if I haven’t made it to your fiesta, I will. And I’ll also announce the winner of the new blog header around noon central time.

The main reason that I haven’t made it through all the fiestas yet is because Gulley and I loaded up the kids on Saturday morning and headed to College Station to take in a little Aggie baseball.

Caroline had been so excited for this trip that I truly thought her head was going to explode by Friday night and it would have been so tragic that after days of repeatedly asking, “IS TODAY SATURDAY? ARE WE LEAVING TODAY? CAN WE LEAVE TODAY?”, that she would have missed the trip due to head explosion.

It’s about a three hour drive from San Antonio to College Station if you make the drive without any children in the car. For us, it took about the same amount of time it took the Ingalls’ family to make it across the Northwestern plains in the dead of winter as they fought wolves, Indians, and the bitter cold.

At the halfway point we stopped at McDonalds so the kids could use the bathroom and order a Happy Meal so they could all have a free toy and eat a combined half a Chicken McNugget and four paper cups filled with ketchup.

Gulley and I decided we couldn’t stomach another meal at McDonalds. We are grown women. We needed something a little more sophisticated, a little more refined.

We made a run for the border.

Which for us is a true delicacy because Taco Bells are next to non-existent when you live in San Antonio, TX, home to over eight hundred and fifty-two Mexican restaurants.

In spite of the easy access to some of the best Mexican food in the world, Gulley and I still crave Taco Bell from time to time. Which just goes to show you can take the girl out of East Texas, but you can’t take the East Texas out of the girl.

We finally arrived at Gulley’s mama’s house with just enough time to change clothes and head to Olsen Field for the game.

Will really wasn’t up for the photo op. He’s a complex fellow and needs his space.

Poor Will. Why can’t we all just leave him alone?

He sent us a clear signal that he wanted to distance himself from the pack when he insisted he sit in a booth behind us at McDonalds, not with us. Because the age of three is filled with emotional turmoil. He needed a few moments alone to journal his thoughts on the side of his Happy Meal bag.

Anyway, once we arrived at Olsen, we bought about $150 worth of cotton candy, popcorn and snowcones and settled into our seats. For about five minutes. And then someone had to go to the bathroom.

But in between the trips to the bathroom, we saw a few fights on the field, three coaches get ejected, and an OU team that liked to meet on the pitcher’s mound and talk more than any other team I have ever seen. At one point Gulley yelled, “Take it to Starbucks, Ladies. We’re here to play some baseball.”

Because we are delicate flowers at sporting events.

In the end all that chit-chatting didn’t pay off because we completely demolished them.

It was a good night.

Until the kids realized they were exhausted and then muchas meltdowns ensued.

But Gulley told me to quit crying and get Caroline in her pajamas and put her to bed.

The next morning, we woke up to a veritable carbohydrate heaven consisting of Shipley’s donuts and kolaches courtesy of Honey and Big.

And just like that, it was time to turn around for the long drive home.

I would tell y’all about it, but I don’t like to use profanity.

All I can say is if our drive was any indication of what Ma and Pa Ingalls went through then I wouldn’t have been surprised if The Little House books contained this phrase, “…and then Pa kicked us out of the wagon, left us on the prairie and said ‘Good Luck’.”

This is where I could talk about my frustration in watching the Aggies drive 98 yards down the field, only to be stopped on 4th and 1 while Jovorskie Lane stood on the sidelines and watched us run the option.

But, instead, I will focus on pleasant, happy thoughts like bunnies, rainbows, and boxes full of puppies.

And, most pleasing of all, the fact that every single one of my Christmas decorations are packed up and back in the attic.

Oh, and that the Fran era is officially over.

And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Two years in a row.

I have to say this for Coach Fran, he went out with style.

For those of y’all who have mentioned that you hoped I would post the picture of me in the fuschia dress and the white hose, let me go ahead and say it’ll never happen.

First of all, I do not own that picture. And secondly, if I did, I would have burned it by now. In fact, I almost grabbed it and burned it using the votive candle centerpieces at dinner Friday night.

And it’s not that I’m afraid to show y’all some embarrassing pictures. I just have my limits.

Most of my college pictures only serve to confirm that I was not afraid of mousse and Aussie Sprunch Spray, but was deathly afraid of tweezers.

And saying no to Whataburger taquitos.

Okay, so here’s where I’m going to wrap up the weekend. I can’t believe it’s taken me three posts.

I never said brevity was my gift.

After our run-in with the “police” on Friday night, we went home and slept the sleep of angels. You know, the kind of sleep you get when you know for sure no one is going to need you to help them go potty in the middle of the night.

We woke up Saturday morning and ate a nutritious breakfast consisting of several kolaches and more chocolate donuts than I care to admit. Then, we got dressed and headed to Olsen Field for an alumni baseball game.

Once we arrived, Gulley and I met up with Jen, who had just driven into town that morning, and Tiff. The four of us met through Diamond Darlings almost 17 years ago and immediately became BFF.

Here we were then.

And here we are now.

We’ve seen each other through bad break-ups, first dates, meeting THE ONE, weddings, miscarriages, babies, death of a parent, career changes, mission trips, and more crisis of the hair than y’all can imagine.

It’s rare that we’re all together at the same time, but it was so fun to have a little bit of time to catch up.

And I really can’t even discuss Tiff’s darling baby boy because he’s at that perfect age where he has 2 bottom teeth poking through, smiles constantly and holding him for 5 minutes made my ovaries hurt just a little.

And here’s something I learned Saturday, there is only so long you can watch old baseball players play baseball.

Non-exciting doesn’t really even begin to cover it.

So we left as soon as AJ showed up and headed to eat lunch at Wings N’ More, where, appropriately enough, they serve wings AND MORE.

Finally, it was time for the football game. AJ had hooked us up with not only premium 40 yard line tickets, but also a sweet parking pass. It was so good, in fact, that I feel it requires a moment of silence for it saved me countless minutes of frustration and who knows how much in parking fines.

The pre-game was awesome. The team running out on the field was incredible. Halftime was inspiring and brought me to tears.

The actual game? Bleh.

After the game, Jen and AJ wanted to go home. They were tired.

There were several problems with that.

1. AJ had talked trash all week about how if we weren’t too old or too tired, maybe we could all go hang out at Northgate after the game. She even threw in that one of her friend’s husbands was in a band that would be playing 80’s music so we might actually know the words to some songs.

2. Why are they tired? Neither one of them has children. They don’t know tired.

3. Gulley and I had exactly 14 child-free hours left and we were going to make the most of them.

Apparently, AJ and Jen had applied too much funscreen.

I finally told them if they didn’t go out I would openly mock them on the blog. Which I’m kind of doing anyway.

But all in the name of love.

They took one for team and managed to drag their weary bones to Northgate for some fun and festivity. And we did go see the 80’s band, which opened with “Rock You Like a Hurricane” by The Scorpions.

Maybe it’s just me, but I felt it was a bad choice.

The Scorpions? Really?

How about some Go-Go’s? The Outfield? The Beastie Boys?

Finally, the people who don’t really comprehend the true meaning of tired had enough and we knew it was time to go home.

We woke up the next morning, ate homemade breakfast tacos made by Big, packed up the kitchen sink that I had brought with me for the weekend, and headed back to S.A. where our people were overjoyed to see us.

Well, Gulley’s boys were overjoyed to see her.

Caroline asked if she could spend another night with Mimi and Bops.

She was clearly devastated by my absence.

So after we went to our dinner thing on Friday night, we met up with our friend Jamie. She lives in College Station and her boys had an 8 a.m. soccer game the next morning, but she met us anyway. And despite my warnings, she had a new hairstyle with bangs.

However, she doesn’t have my unfortunate cowlick issues, so it totally works for her.

We caught up with Jamie until the waitstaff at Ninfa’s began to sweep under our table to let us know they had better things to do than bring us corn tortillas.

Whatever.

We finally took the not-so-subtle hint and left the restaurant. Jamie headed home, but Gulley and I decided it was our duty to explore some Texas A&M landmarks such as The Dixie Chicken. Granted, we were a little overdressed, but we figured we’d also be the oldest people there so what difference would it make.

And this won’t mean anything to any of y’all that aren’t Aggies, but Northgate is completely different. I mean it has paved parking and parking meters. And even a parking garage. It’s come a long way from a couple of mud lots behind The Chicken.

We walked up to the entrance, optimistically hoping to have to show our ID’s, and the guy working the door looked at us and said, “Y’all are good, I don’t need to see ID”.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

A hint of uncertainty would have been nice.

Once we walked in we saw that everything was EXACTLY the same. The smell, the smoke, the old guy passed out while sitting upright. It’s as if time had stood still.

We walked through just to absorb the ambience that is exactly what you’d expect from a place called The Dixie Chicken. And, we ended up meeting the ESPN crew who were in town to cover the game. One member of the crew was a girl who had recently graduated from University of Kentucky.

We discussed how they had stolen our basketball coach, Billy Gillispie, from us and also her ambitions to marry him and become the mother of his children. She asked us when we graduated from A&M and we countered by asking how old she thought we were.

She took a long, deep breath and said, “Please don’t be offended, but I’m going to say 27″.

Gulley and I were thrilled, until we realized that when you’re 22 you cannot even conceive of an age as high as 35 or 36. I mean, do people even live that long?

And if they do, they certainly don’t do anything other than lug their 18 kids around in a minivan and watch “Matlock”.

We decided it was probably time for us to head home and walked back to the car. We had parked in one of the new lots and put enough change in the parking meter for an hour. I was worried we were pushing the limits of our hour.

Now, I need to give y’all a little history about me.

While I was a student at A&M, parking was a mess. It was like survival of the fittest just to find a spot to park every day.

And yes, I could have taken the shuttle bus, but if you honestly think I’d take public transportation then you haven’t been reading the blog for very long.

Since I was always running late, I usually just had to park wherever I could find a space. Staff parking. Twenty minute parking. University President parking. Wherever.

Let’s just say I might still owe Texas A&M several hundred dollars in parking tickets, unless there is some kind of statute of limitations. I had a complicated relationship with UPD, otherwise known as University Police Department. They were my arch nemesis.

Well, other than the Whataburger taquitos that singlehandedly caused me to gain 20 extra pounds my sophomore year.

The point is that due to my constant parking issues with UPD, I am very sensitive to parking tickets and expired meters.

So, Gulley and I are walking back to the car when I see a policeman standing in the vicinity of my vehicle. I immediately lose my mind and start racing over there to let him know “HERE I AM! PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME A TICKET!”

As Gulley and I round the corner, we get the full view of the policeman that I think is about to give me a ticket.

I’m not sure if it was the mirrored sunglasses or the shorts that gave away the fact that he was, in fact, not UPD, but rather a fraternity boy dressed up for Halloween.

But I’m pretty sure it was the shorts.

They seemed to lack the professional, I’m a University Policeman vibe.

Although the belt and the gun were a nice touch.

Needless to say, Gulley and I collapsed into hysterical laughter. I mean doubled over, can’t breathe laughter. And as soon as we recovered we asked his girlfriend to take a picture of us with him.

As she took the picture we told them that we were former students back for a reunion and the game. The girl squealed “OMIGOSH, y’all are SO CUTE. What are y’all? Like 27?”

I said, “No, we’re 36.”

And I’m not exaggerating when I say she recoiled in horror.

I think she was afraid we’d escaped from the nursing home.

We had so much fun this weekend. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.

But, if I don’t start somewhere then I’ll just sit here like I’ve been sitting here for the last 2 hours, procrastinating, because I don’t even know how to tell y’all about the weekend.

I think for lack of a better format, I’m going to tell y’all about the weekend in chronological order. Be prepared, it may be a two-parter.

Gulley and I left town at 2 p.m. sharp. We had spent the last week hoping and praying that no one would get sick, and as soon as we checked one last time for fever or illness, we were outta here.

I hate to confess this but I may have burned rubber pulling out of her driveway.

We stopped in San Marcos because I hadn’t eaten lunch and was in need of a little nourishment. So, we pulled through DQ and ordered some fries and Diet Cokes. I handed the girl a fifty dollar bill and she gave me back $4.00 in change.

I do love some fries but $46.00 seemed a little steep.

I told her I had given her $50.00 and she mumbled incoherently as she counted out my real change. Then, as a bonus, she spilled a LARGE Diet Coke all over the side of my car.

Good times.

And not messy at all.

She was fortunate that nothing was going to steal my joy.

We drove on and finally arrived in Bryan. I can’t even explain how long it took for me to unload my clothes out of the car because I realize I have a problem. I don’t need it confirmed here on the internet. Let’s just say Gulley and I could have been stranded for SEVERAL days, possibly weeks, and never had to wear the same thing twice.

I lack what some may call decision-making skills.

We walked into Gulley’s mama’s house and, much to my delight, Nena was there. She wanted to come, watch us get ready and dole out her fashion advice. But since it wasn’t quite time to get ready, we sat and visited for a while.

Nena told us all about this story she had seen on the news about some woman who survived out at sea for NINETEEN DAYS. It seems this woman remembered that most of your body heat escapes from your head so she had tied her bikini top around her head to try to maintain some body heat.

Nena went on and on about this woman surviving NINETEEN DAYS with just her bikini top tied around her head, and finally Big said, “Wow. Nineteen days? That’s incredible. Are you sure?”

And Nena said, “Well, maybe it was just nineteen hours.”

Yes, that would seem more likely.

She also told us a story about a friend of hers that has always been SO BEAUTIFUL. She said, “She was SO BEAUTIFUL that men turned their heads to watch her walk down the street …IN DALLAS.”

It’s no small feat to turn the heads of big city men. That takes some doin’.

We finally started getting ready. And oh what joy to get ready from beginning to end with no interruptions. I didn’t have to stop to wipe anyone’s bottom or open a cheese stick or stick a straw in a juice box. I just curled my hair and listened to the soothing sound of the sizzle that let me know it was going to be a good hair night.

Gulley decided to wear a strapless dress and, once Nena realized this, it became imperative that she wear a “stole” with it. Nena even offered to go home and get her stole so that Gulley could borrow it. I think the very idea that Gulley was going to expose her bare shoulders at Briarcrest Country Club was enough to make Nena reach for her smelling salts.

Gulley told her I had brought a stole for her to wear and she would be properly covered. Nena grabbed me on our way out the door and said, “Make SURE that stole gets worn” as if the very reputation of their family depended on it.

Needless to say, the stole did not get worn.

And I’m only sharing this information because Nena doesn’t have a computer. As Gulley would say, “No one wants to be Nena’s I.T. person.”

Talk about a full-time job.

The next morning Nena called Gulley’s mama to get the report on our evening and the first question she asked was, “Did anyone else have on a strapless dress?” I told her they did and none of them were wearing stoles.

Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover her reaction. You would have thought I told her these girls took off their shoes and ate with their feet.

Anyway, we had a great time Friday night. We saw friends we hadn’t seen in years and got caught up on what everyone has been doing for the last 15 years. I also saw several scrapbooks that contained photos of me with hair that was not a color found in nature and so large it didn’t fit in the picture.

And, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but in one of them I was wearing WHITE hose with FUSCHIA flats and a FUSCHIA dress with a white bow across the top that was bigger than my head.

Which is saying something.

I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t pretty.

And not even a stole would have helped. Unless maybe I wrapped it around my head.

Like that girl did with her bikini top for 19 days at sea.

I’ll be back tomorrow with more reports from the weekend. And pictures!

A few thoughts from the weekend.

1. Texas A&M is truly one of the greatest places on earth. It had been so long since I had attended a game at Kyle Field that I had forgotten how incredible it is. It is, seriously, the best place in the world to watch a college football game. And I’m only slightly biased.

At halftime, in the middle of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie band performance, Former President George H.W. Bush and Secretary of Defense, Dr. Robert Gates, came out on the field and awarded an Aggie Marine, Class of ‘03, a Medal of Honor for his service in Iraq.

Honestly, it was the best part of the night and I don’t think there was a dry eye in the stadium. Incredible moment.

2. On a less serious note, sitting a few rows ahead of us were some students from Kansas. They had on shirts that made us laugh out loud. Gulley and I had to get a picture with them.

The only problem is that we love our 12th Man. The Aggies would have been much better off if he had eaten our coach.

I haven’t even mentioned that Gulley and I are headed to College Station for a big college reunion type thing.

But we are.

We are leaving town around 2:00 today and will be sans the petites until early Sunday afternoon. Excited doesn’t really even begin to cover it. And yes, our kids are darling. We love our kids. But a break? A break is good.

Even the Lord rested on the Sabbath. And He didn’t have to constantly heat up Dino nuggets.

So, fashion has been foremost on my mind as I’ve begun packing my bag for a weekend away. There is nothing that stresses me out more than being away from my closet. It completely eliminates my compulsive need to be able to decide on a new outfit at the last moment.

Plus, what of the weather changes that may occur? How do they know it will be 75 degrees and sunny on Saturday? How can I know how much the temperature will change between 6 p.m. kickoff at Kyle Field and 9:30 p.m. when the game finally ends? It’s like a roll of the fashion dice.

I’m at the mercy of the meteorologists.

And in other not-necessarily-fashion news, I got a haircut on Wednesday. After a long series of disappointments, I have returned head in hands to my former hairdresser. She knows my hair and I don’t know why I ever left her.

I had a wandering eye that led me to bangs and I am repentant.

She took me back and this was my second reunited-and-it-feels-so-good haircut since my return. The cut is great, but when she styled it she parted it on the opposite side from where it has been parted for the last 26 years or so. She said it was because changing the part gave me more volume.

That may be true, but it has completely thrown my equilibrium off. I wish I were kidding when I say it has made my head noticeably lean to one side as if to compensate from the incredible weight of the hair. Not to mention the fact that my hair keeps falling in my left eye as opposed to my right eye. My vision is completely out of whack.

And peripheral vision? Forget about it.

So tomorrow I will style it myself, return my part to its proper location and once again be able to hold my head upright. Have I ever mentioned I don’t do well with change?

On to the question portion of this post. This week I received a few questions that deal more with beauty issues than fashion. My first thought was that I don’t wear a lot of makeup so I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer beauty questions. But then I realized I can do the same thing I do with the fashion questions and just fake my way through it as if I know what I’m talking about.

It’s a technique I learned from my days of selling pharmaceutical products where I arbitrarily threw around terms like “CYP3A9″ and “Apo B Lipoprotein” and “Sugar Diabetes”.

Here we go.

1. Rachel asks: “As for lipstick, do you prefer matte or shiny? I hear that matte is making a comeback, but I’m still partial to a little bit of shine. Also, do you buy at the department store where you get to preview the color on your lips as well as hear a few kinds words from the ladies in black aprons or do you play guess and lose at the drug store? I like the bargain prices, but not my bin full of not quite right lipstick. What are your thoughts?”

Matte may be making a comeback, but supposedly so are skinny jeans and you won’t see me wearing them. I am not a fan of the matte lip. I think even a hint of shine is much more flattering.

Of course I may be biased because matte lipstick makes me think of my Aunt Fina who has worn bright red matte lipstick for the last 65 years. Or as she would say, “lipstickt”.

That picture should encourage y’all to go with some shine. And also, serve as a lesson that a little bit of blush goes a long way.

I have never been a department store makeup kind of girl. Mainly because I have the propensity to be a huge sucker for beauty products and if I dare to step in Sephora and let one of those lovely cosmeticians have their way with my face, I would feel compelled to buy every product they used so that I could replicate what they have just done. Once home I would realize they are professionals and I need more than the products to get the same results. And there I would be with hundreds of dollars worth of disillusionment sitting in my makeup bag.

Not that I’ve ever done that. I’m just speaking hypothetically.

I have always been able to find good products at the CVS and they will usually let you return a product if you get home and discover it’s the wrong color. Or y’all can do what I do and just buy the same colors all the time, but in different brands and formulations.

My favorite lip products at this moment are Neutrogena Moisture Shine in Chic (pronounced Chick in certain circles), Covergirl Lipslicks in Daring, Almay Ideal Gloss in Wine Shimmer, E.L.F. Plumping Lip Glaze in Mocha Ice, and Burt’s Bees Lip Shimmer in Nutmeg.

And actually there are dozens more, but that’s just what was in my purse. I’m not kidding.

Y’all will notice that these are all a variation on a theme and that theme is wine/brown/mocha tones. Keep in mind that I have a medium skin tone, brown hair and brown eyes. These colors look best on me.

Pink, in any form or fashion of lip color, hates me. In fact, it despises me.

However, if you’re a lovely, fair-skinned blonde girl, pink may be your BFF. I hope y’all are very happy together.

2. Cricket asks: “I am in my early thirties and am noticing more and more CHIN HAIR each day! What do I do? Pluck every day? Is there a better way?”

Yes. Pluck. Pluck like the wind.

Or you could go see about laser hair removal for chins. But make sure you’re into pain and agony because it is every bit as painful as watching a “Diff’rent Strokes” marathon.

That’s all I’ve got for this week because I need to do things like pack my suitcase and watch multiple weather forecasts so that I can obsess about the high temperature for Saturday and whether or not I’ll need a light sweater or a coat for the game.

Maybe I should just pack both.

Or maybe I should be more concerned about whether or not the Aggies can beat the hell out of Kansas.

Y’all have a great weekend!

I don’t think it will really surprise anyone to know that the A&M game today caused me to make chocolate chip cookies so that I could self-medicate with cookie dough.

Here’s a little history lesson.

The last time the Aggies won in Lubbock was 1993.

I was at the game.

As a student.

I should have known after last week’s game when Coach Fran said, “We may not win another game all season…” that he wasn’t kidding.

But seriously, there may not be enough chocolate to get me through the rest of the season.