Friday, December 12, 2008

There Are, In Fact, Multiple Row Sevens Throughout Soldier Field

So when my boss fast-talked me into accepting those football tickets, he spouted, "Row Seven" in between many adjectives and verbs and other forms of grammatical syntax that I've forgotten, because I ignore my boss as much as I can, as I did all of my English teachers.

Usually when someone donates tickets to my office (for all of the hard work we do servicing the community), they're phenomenal, and fuck yeah Bears game.

I soon remembered that there are, in fact, multiple Row Sevens throughout Soldier Field, and we could be in any one of them. This did not concern me.

One thing you should know about me: I don't really have a winter coat. There's this nice-ish looking camel coat I wear to work, with lining that rips a little more every single time I lift my arms. Not wearing that to a Bears game.

Let the layering of the sweatshirts commence. For extra luck with the cold, I topped it all off with my Homer Brewing Company sweatshirt, because I like beer, and it kept me warm when I was in Alaska. But most importantly, because I wanted the opportunity to mention, over and over again, that one time I went to Alaska, and I bought this sweatshirt and a growler of Red Knot Scottish Ale and drank it on a rocky beach where the sun rarely sets.

Thank god I've gotten that out of the way.

So yeah. We arrive at the game, and our spectacular Row Seven Seats are in Row Seven of the upper deck. Not only that, but they're in a corner facing goddamn Lake Michigan, and there be biting winds. And I be cold as all fuckery.

But the game was excellent. My co-workers ditched me at half time and left me drinking and sitting alone. About halfway through the third quarter some of the neighboring Phase 4 Fans gave up (come on, guys. Ten degrees? Nothin.) and pretty soon I had a radius of four empty chairs around me. I was not warm. But was I going to let a little cold front scare me away? Hell no.

And then I got very lonely.

I could survive the dropping temperatures in the Fortress of Solitude, but never its ever-desolate name.

So I got the fuck out of there. They had stopped selling beer anyway.

Then I met up with Gyna, who has been in California all week, and we went to a bar with a vast array of desecrated coloring books, where nearly every page of Spiderman, Biblical characters, My Little Ponies, Anakin Skywalker, and eerie Precious Moments children contains visible hand-drawn genitals.

So we whipped out our pens and helped them finish off all of the pictures they missed. Besides, the bartenders threatened to take away our PBR if we didn't draw dicks on stuff.



Anonymous said...

I want to go to that bar.

derfina said...

Heh. Servicing the community. I love it!

Kitty said...

Your football buddies are pussies, wasting a great seat like that.

Anonymous said...

Once upon a time, when Owen and I were younger and childless, we ended up in posession of a Barbie cooring book and a box of 64 Crayolas. We turned the thing into one big triple X rated Star Trek episode. All the chicks were green, and Kirk was convincing them to do Very Dirty Things. Somehow, this particular coloring book ended up at his Mom & Dad's. Where it was found, 10 years later, by our now-existent children. So what I'm trying to say is, I get it, man.

(BTW, my confirmation word is "hytox". It sounds vaguely like a feminine hygeine product.)

(PS: I'm sorry you froze your ass off, and your work buddies are weiners.)

paperback reader said...

PBR and drawing dicks on stuff - was that bar entitled "16 year old Pistols' dream bar?"

Anonymous said...

So what's better--a really cold football game or a really hot football game? Last time I went to a Titan's game I had to spend $22 on a visor so I didn't get spontaneous skin cancer and my feet got sunburned. Peeling toes or peeling your frozen butt off your seat? I'll take the heat.

Anonymous said...

man, if i had a friend named Gyna, she would ALWAYS be mad at me.

Gypsy said...

Did any of the drawings gain boobs?

Anonymous said...

we need to go back with some new coloring books to deface, i think. wait, and when was bingo night- sunday nights? you need to date one of those bingo guys cause they were funny. plus neither of us won and i still feel like a loser. so a night of penis drawing AND bingo might be heaven.

ps to franki- i never get mad at being called gyna, even by random drunken men.

Rassles said...

Eli: It's the Clipper. Don't you hate it there? Hipsters and whatnot? Everyone is too much like you?

Derf: It's very important to save the children.

Kitty: Oh. I was pissed. And ever so lonesome and cold. All I could think was, "If you guys were gonna wuss out, after knowing how cold it would be, why didn't you let me bring people who would sit there, fighting the wind until the bitter end?"

Ginny: If we had more than blue, brown, and seven different shades of red, we wouldn't have had to give half of the dicks herpes.

Pistols: The day I stop valuing establishments like the Clipper is the day I develop an ounce of cool. We can't have that. People like me, pocketing coolnes? Dangerous.

Franklin: Oh, the cold is better, hands down.

Franki: Gyna IS always mad at me. But it's not because we named her after ladybits.

Gypsy: Oh sure, lots of 'em. But the most unsettling were the ones of Spiderman flying through the air, bushy vagina exposed.

Gyner: Bingo.

Bluestreak said...

how do you live in chicago and not have a winter coat? last night i almost froze my face off and i'm in phoenix. you gots balls.