Monday, November 21, 2011

Cowboys til I die.....

I have been a Dallas Cowboys fan since as long as I can remember. Legend has it that my father wouldn’t take my mother to the hospital to have me until the Cowboys game was over. I Googled that date and what game was being played. The Dallas Cowboys beat the Philadelphia Eagles twenty-three to seventeen. Couldn’t have asked for a better game to have my birth waited for.  Any time the Eagles lose to the Cowboys is a great day.

Do I know every player’s name? Nope.  Do I know what college they all went to? Nope. Do I know who the coach was the year the team was first introduced into the league? Nope. But that does not mean that I am not a fan.

I’ve heard several people say that I am a “band wagon jumper”. Would you like to explain to me what wagon there was to jump upon? Because last time I checked the Cowboys haven’t had an amazing season since the mid 1990’s. So if I jumped on a wagon back then….nope they would still be incorrect.

I was born a Cowboys fan and I will die a Cowboys fan. Ask anyone who has known me since I was a wee little girl. I have pictures of me around the age of three or four sliding in a park rocking a Cowboys shirt. On the first day of sixth grade I am photographed wearing a Cowboys hat. I have owned a Michael Irvin #88 jersey since I was thirteen. And yes, I still wear it proudly. I will NEVER get rid of it. If I ever have a kid, they will rock this jersey.

Besides, my dad would kill me if I even thought of liking another team. When I was a freshman, the Titans were going to the Super Bowl. Now, at a young age my daddy taught me that if the Cowboys aren’t in the Super Bowl then we as Dallas fans root for the NFC team. Now the Titans were playing the Rams. And nothing against Kurt Warner or anything but Justin Timberlake was going for the Titans, so naturally I went for the Titans. They had nice little baby blue uniforms. (Ya, I know, I’m special.) Well, my dad told me I was a trader.

The Rams won anyway.

That Christmas, the Cowboys played the Titans. I was sitting in the room with my mom, dad, brother and sister. My brother made a comment that I was a Titans fan. My dad gave me “the look” and I replied with: “I like their uniforms.” Oh Lord was that a mistake. I was kicked out of the room and told that I was not allowed to watch another Cowboys game until I learned to “respect the star”.

The Cowboys lost 0-31. L

When I was a youngster, we weren’t allowed to interrupt our parents during Cowboys games. And on one particular cold, snowy day, my siblings, cousins and I were outside playing in the snow. Well, every time that an adult came out we would throw a snowball at them. The apparently we became annoying with our constant running in and out of the house. So they locked us out. In the cold. And the snow. Somehow  my lovely sister, who was several years younger, came up with the plan to bury the beer in the snow.

Let’s just say many lessons were learned that day. One, never bother Cowboys fans when the game is on. Two, don’t piss off the kids when you want your beer.

I have only been to one Dallas Cowboys game and it was to see them beat the Chiefs in overtime. Loved it. Does that make me not a fan because I have only seen them play one time? My dad was in his late thirties the first time he saw his team play.

When I watch the games with my friends or if I see my friends after a game, I like to talk shit. I like to get on Twitter and Facebook and brag about how AMAZING my team is. I like to listen to people at parties and at the bar talk about how they hate Romo one week and love him the next. I love every second of that. But, for some reason, I don’t really say a lot when I am watching the games with my brother and my dad. I don’t really know why I don’t speak up like when I am with my friends. Maybe I’m afraid that I will say the wrong thing and be thrown out of the family again. HaHa

There are also a few people who like to hate on me because I dislike Michael Vick so much. Um, well let’s see. He is a DOG MURDERER!!!!! Hello! And the answer is ‘no’. No, I would NOT like him if he ever became a Cowboy. In fact, I think that I would petition to have him removed from the team if he were ever be traded to the Boys.

So, hate on me if you must, but just know this. There is only a hole in the top of Cowboys stadium so God can watch His team play.


Sunday, November 6, 2011

One Day At A Time

I don't really know how to begin this other than to say how I am truely feeling. It has been two weeks since I lost my Aunt Debbie. Lost her. *psh* That sounds like she was a set of car keys or a cell phone. And like magick she will appear in my purse the next time I look for her. But I know all too well that she isn't going to appear the next time I look for her because she is gone. Forever.

I've heard people say in the last two weeks that they are having a hard time getting a hold of me; that I've gone M.I.A. I've heard people asking why I'm not out all the time anymore and wondering when I'm going to back to "normal". I'll be the first one to admit that I am ignoring certian people. I am refusing to answer my phone and respond to text messages for a reason. You weren't there before, why should I act like you give two shits now?

But what is "normal"? Is normal drinking four or five days a week? Is normal spending money that I don't have on stupid shit so that I can appear cool? Is normal going to bed in the wee hours of the morning to turn around and wake up a few shorts hours later and work a full eight hour day? Well, yeah. That is all normal to me. But it's not healthy. It's not good for me. It's not good for anyone. Last year around this time I took a two month break from hanging out, drinking and being "normal". I'm thinking about doing it agin.

"This all comes from your Aunt Debbie's passing?" Yes, yes it does. And who uses the word 'passing'? She didn't pass a kidney stone, or pass a football to Dez Bryant. She died. She is gone. And she won't ever be back. I lost my aunt, my secret keeper, my fellow Glee watcher, my True Blood partner, my second mom, and the woman who made the best damn tosadas ever. The night before she died we talked about me moving out at the end of the month because I felt that I was spending too much money on fast food, drinking, and clothes. She fully supported my decision and was excited to see me rebuild a relationship with my sister. She was my rock. And she is gone.

No one will EVER understand or even begin to understand what happened that morning. And I hope and pray that they never will. It was something that I wouldn't wish my worst enemy. I have dreams about it almost every night. What if I had heard her? What if I would have tried to wake her up the first time I noticed her on the floor instead of almost thirty minutes later? I mean I was laying only two feet from her. Couldn't I have done something? In my dreams I hear her fall off the couch and I see her strugle and I call for help, the arrive and she is taken off to the hospital where we all visit her later on that day and she comes home and yells at us for eating all her rice pudding and drinking all of the Coca Cola.

But then I wake up and remember that it's my dad's couch that I'm sleeping on. And that my Aunt Debbie is gone. That I didn't hear her fall and that I couldn't save her.
It's been two weeks. Two long, sad, emotional weeks. I'm not a cryer. It takes a lot to make me cry. And I find myself crying while I'm watching commercials, Glee, fucking football. Maybe I need someone to talk to that isn't related or a friend. Maybe I do need help. I dunno. I don't know what I want anymore. There are days where I don't want to wake up and face the day because I hurt so much. There are days where I consider sleeping until I'm thirty.


But until then, I'll work my 9-5, I'll bowl on Tuesdays and I'll DVR Glee. I'll keep watching the Cowboys play and pray that the Eagles and the Steelers lose. I'll take it one day at a time like an alcoholic.

But just know that it's going to take time to get back to the old Heidi. I envy those of you who continue your lives and smile all day. Because I ache inside and my smiles are all fake.

<3 Heidi Jane