Ah, Friday. Sweet, sweet end of the working week. Prelude to a weekend filled with nothing but catching up on life and relaxing, for the first time in a few months.
Sure, I’ve still got one more job shift to make it through — but that’s bartending, and is less like work and more like getting paid to ridicule and be cruel to alcoholic wannabes.
If I have one complaint, it is that football season begins again this weekend. Those of you that live or have lived in Birmingham (probably the south in general, but I understand Birmingham, Alabama to be the national capitol of college football gambling), you understand, perhaps, why I dread this time of year. Not to say that you, reading this blog, have the intense and overwhelming apathy I have to all things football (unless we’re talking the real football, where hands are useless and headbutts resound the world over). But there are a lot of places in the country that don’t have to live through the inane zealotry that college football inspires in this city.
Everywhere you go, there are bumper stickers and window flags and jerseys and screams of “Roll Tide” and “War Eagle” — it’s like a mating call down here, I think. But I’ve got my solution for this year — at least in the bar, when we’re working or playing, any screams of college football slogans will be met with a lively and hearty cry of “Hail, Satan!”
This ridiculous obsession with colleges that most of their fans couldn’t even get into… it’s the reason I’m going to give when I’m arrested for a string of murders, or when I finally check myself into Betty Ford for whatever substance sticks first.