This past weekend was possibly the most emotionally turmoil-ish weekend in recent history. Firstly, I had the most amazing weekend with my old suite-mates from sophomore year in good ol Peddrew-Yates. There is nothing like a weekend full of girly chatting, mimosa drinking, and engagement ring comparing (not including me, in case there were questions…hardy har). I love reminiscing about hilarious college mishaps and embarrassing stories. Who doesn’t.
Secondly, the Hokies had a fantastic and then an absolutely shamefully turrible showing in the ACC tournament. That game against FSU was possibly the most stressful game for me since two weeks ago with Duke, but MAN what an ending! And what an awesome feeling, knowing, or at least thinking positively about our NCAA hopes now having beat FSU not just once, but twice! Cheers! Seth cried, Malcom Delaney made a depressingly cynical comment about getting an NCAA bid, I drank Ginger Ale to calm my nervous tummy.
Then the next day us gals sat around watching the semi-finals on ESPN HD with surround-sound, with mimosas (and then just Moscato…thus the title) in hand watching our boys in super swanky Burnt Orange jerseys forget to actually play basketball against Duke. Fun times. Best drinking game ever: drink every time we score. Too bad we ended up not scoring that much, so I changed it to drink-every-time-they-show-Kyle-Singler’s-disgustingly-hideous-face. That one was much more fun. HOLY MOSES is he ugly or WHAT.
Anyway, post-Duke smack-down and well on our way to buzzed and/or already drunk, we prepared for an awesome night in downtown, or if we want to be fancy and correct, Uptown Charlotte. It was, like, the best time ever. Everyone had a good hair day (including me! I know!), looked SO fetch, and watch Miss Foxy get hit on by a billion dudes. That girl has got it going on, I tell you. And really there’s nothing like a night of hilarity, popping bubbly and dancing like we’re crunk with great girlfriends to cure basketball sorrows. Plus, no one likes Duke. Except Duke fans. Whatever. But everyone loves a girls weekend.
And THEN on Sunday something even turrible-er happened. We got shafted AGAIN by the NCAA head a-holes who pick teams to play in the supposed best dance ever or whatever it’s called. Guess who doesn’t care about any stupid dance anymore!? Me. And Hokies everywhere who now hate the NCAA for being SUCH AWFUL HATERS. Not only was I / currently am PMSingly emotional over this, but the FACTS support me (a rarity) and every other pissed off Hokie out there. I mean. I’m not a sports writer and there are a billion other sources who research this jank and then write about it, so I won’t. Go check out Kyle Tucker’s blog for some real journalism and then come back here to help me rage at the man about it.
Luckily, the ladies and I closed out our awesome girls weekend with a trip to an awesome antique mall and the best store in the world, IKEA. Yes. You know you are getting old when you cease shopping for clothes together and start with the home furnishings and fun things like vases and kitchenware. It’s hard to say no to all the awesome deals and fun make-your-own-lamp department. Loves. So needless to say, despite hearing the disgusting news about the NCAA bracket while I was alone in my car en route back to R-town with no one to cry to, my high from my awesome IKEA purchases and amazing fun times with good friends helped me through [longest sentence ever]. Thanks girls.
Meantime. Dear NCAA Dudes Who Make Decisions: You suck. I know it makes me less of a lady to say it like that, but I say that with the utmost charm and batting of eyelashes. Next year don’t make excuses for blatantly not picking teams whose records show they deserve to play like “differing opinions of criteria” and etcetera bull hoo-ha. Just come out and admit that you are silly old men without a clue.
Also in the meantime, Hokies should do as I am doing: get over it and embrace new opportunities. It’s fun to rage and be mad, but apparently the NIT finals are being played in Madison Square Garden and broadcast nationally, which seems to me to be a perfect opportunity to show how awesome we are at choking on key opportunities OR how we can persevere and not be thugs on the court cough Jeff Allen cough. Seriously. It’s sad we didn’t get picked. Not even for measly last seed spot. But then, I guess it’s not cool to whine and complain. Get it done at NIT, little boys, and maybe next year you can not foul out as much, make free throws, and find a cute dress for the Big Dance. A dropped-waist cut looks best on those with long limbs.
And I’m so happy to have such great friends. You make life’s sad times happy!