Friday Night Lights Surprise: Austin Lisa, Goddess

This is the final entry about this just last trip to Austin.
I have written about Lisa before - a wonder of a woman who, from the moment we met, I began crushing on rather heavily. Lisa, by the way, is pregnant...having become so just around the time I last visited, and so I have begun calling myself her Fertility Charm. Unless her and her man need me to sit atop their bed while they copulate, I don't mind being such a charm. (Please wish her congratulations and send her your best belly energy - both men and women.)



Anyway. Point of this entry isn't her belly, but rather her wonderful and amazing sense of generosity where my very awkward love of COACH ERIC TAYLOR, HI! and Friday Night Lights is concerned.

Lisa, see, has a friend who works with the FNL crew. This friend was able to confirm two things for Lisa: (1) shooting locations of FNL; and, (2) that the day she surprised me with our little FNL sojourn, was not a day on which they would be shooting. Why this later? Because Lisa had no interest in placing myself (and by extension, herself) in an embarrassing situation wherein I would freeze, or worse yet, lunge into inappropriate touching of either COACH ERIC TAYLOR, HI!, Tim Rigglett Riggins, or Tammy Taylor.

Honestly, I would be hard-pressed to behave myself in such a situation.

First stop was the football field that the Dillon Panthers called home (GO EAST DILLON!). It was raining and I was exhilarated. Unfortunately, you can't really see the sameness between the filming and the reality and so my excitement was contained:





I tried to pick the lock that held the wire fence closed and that kept me on the other side of the field. Lisa suggested that perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to attempt a break in, so instead, I quite sadly held on to the fence and stared at the field which eluded me, imagining COACH ERIC TAYLOR (!) putting The Dillon Panthers through their drills and making certain they played their hearts out on that field (because they are real people, who play real games, yes?). Eventually, Lisa wrestled me back into the car.

Second stop: Landing Strip, the locale at which the Riggins brothers as well as Buddy Garrity hang. It is a strip bar, and as it was the middle of the day and Lisa and I were without a man (as an excuse to enter), we merely creeped around the entrance and enjoyed it from the outside. Being in Texas meant not even the hint of lesbian-anity.





Third stop: Broken Spoke. I really don't have anything interesting to say about this joint except that I wanted to return in the evening to enjoy a little honky tonk, but never made it. I am interested in having a dance-off with a local; any local, and so have decided to make this my top priority next trip.




Finally, and most notably, was the burger joint at which most of season 1 was filmed. This place is recognizable as soon as you pull up to it, and Lisa said I in fact jumped out of the car before she had placed it into park. More incredibly, she said that as soon as we walked in, I short-circuited and staring at the ground, turned a complete 360 laughing to myself. I think she's lying because I don't remember any of that. I do, however, remember how I felt as though I were to come crashing out of my own skin when I laid eyes on the restaurant, and for those of you familiar with FNL, you will immediately recognise the location spot in the photos.











In summation, the following picture is worth a thousand words. This was taken by Lisa while we were seated in one of the booths at the restaurant (the staff of which would not let us pay and who wanted to feed us french fries, because of the energy vibeing off of us, no doubt). When C saw this expression, she said: "That's the exact same expression Nora-May had on her face the entire time she was in The Princess Castle".



Nora-May is five years old.

Thank you Lisa.
Love you.
Owe you.

***************
P.S. I have just returned from Costa Rica. I have been getting caught up with everyone and am relatively exhausted and so not very write-y. I promise to make up for this soon enough - thank you for your amazing emails. Love you all.

Dear Taylor Kitsch Wearing Saxx Underwear -

Hi!

It's been a while, and that's because I was away in Costa Rica where no one wears plaid, and so I really missed you.
It's kind of official now, by the way, that I have completely blurred the lines between reality and fiction and in my very small head you, Tim Riggins, is actually Taylor Kitsch. (Don't worry about the small head thing though, because other parts of me totally make up for that.)

Mmmm, I received a very funny email while I was gone (in Costa Rica, did I mention? In the jungle. By the water. Maybe you'd like to join me next time? Rain boots & bikinis...) - it was a transcript of an interview you had done, in which you (1) LOL'd when someone asked if you read the Twilight series; and, (2) indicated that you cover your fun parts in Saxx Apparel, whose tag line is: "Show your balls some love". Genius, beyond measure.

And speaking of measure...

I'm kidding...but you know, what with all this talk about your panties, it's sort of inevitable that my small head would be filled with awkward and completely inappropriate thoughts.

Beyond your panty gig, though, is your clear disdain for Twilight. A disdain I share and so yet another reason we ought to be together; a disdain so deep that when I read your response, I started bouncing in my seat and clapping very quickly. Also, I may have been screaming in my small head, with great excitement. (Another reason we belong together? We both like babies - and fyi, for you to keep in mind: not only do I want to birth several, I would also like to rent and lease as many others as possible, please & thank you.)

Finally, last night I got caught up on FNL season 4, episode 8. When you kissed the girl, I couldn't help but think how I would really like to have your perfect mouth on my very small head.

Hugs and squeezes and giggles,
Maha

Comments closed.

Stupid Hollywood Muppets: Taylor Kitsch leaving FNL?

The f*ckery began Friday when M sent me a link to an article which indicated that: (1) FNL is most definitely ending after Season 5; and, (2) Rigglett will not be in much of the final season due to scheduling conflict for some movie on Mars. (You read that right.)

Since the initial trauma of that read, I have received many hysterical emails (thank you, yes, but I beseech** you to please cease and desist) that FNL will be one Rigglett short of a full deck.

Don't get me wrong; I love Billy Riggins, but he has (so far) this season done nothing but fail 26-pack Rigglett. By default, that means that Billy has failed me as well, since Timmy is Master of My Loins. (Q: Do I have loins or is it only men who have loins? Don't have time to Google, so you receive full impact of the air in my head.)

Dear Billy,

Whose gonna pass Timmy his taters from now on, dumbass?
(But, I like you better with short buzzed hair (so well done there).)

xox
Maha

Until further notice, please take a deep breath and focus on the facts:

(1) There is no concrete evidence that Season 5 will in fact be the final season. There is, however, speculation that this will be the case. Speculation and fact are two very different things so chill because you are increasing my hysteria and I can only yell so many times at Baby Jane: "Friday Night Lights CAN'T END EVER. I want to be eighty watching COACH ERIC TAYLOR and his angry walker adventures"; and,
(2) The Stupid Hollywood Muppets - at DISNEY - regulating the schedule for John Carter of Green Planets and Bikini-Clad Girlies (JCGPBCG) have yet to confirm their complete and total ignorance re Tim Riggins as one of the 'connect dots' of FNL. Give them a chance to un-Muppet before you crucify them. They may surprise us, as Muppetts often do.

Dear Friday Night Lights Writers,

Hi.
Me again: MAHA.
The child in whose backyard Riggins is currently living? She needs to put on some pants. Immediately.

Thanks for that.
Maha

Comments closed (I am studying and pounded this out super quick; sorry for errors.).

==========
**Thank you, FNL Podcast for reminding me that the word 'beseech' exists.

Longhorns defense take a snooze and then experience an Intifadah

This is the third and final post to part 1: Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR and part 2: Americans throw the pig's skin around and HI! COACH ERIC TAYLOR! .

Intifadah: To awaken from slumber.

Before the game began, pomp and circumstance were the leading culprits on the field. Wherever one looked, there were sad little people wearing costumes which were likely sewn by Lou-Ellen in 1963. Take this gentlemen, as example, and the unfortunate reality of his long torso, as stuffed within his Cowboy Cartoon outfit. No doubt, on a regular day, he rocks his everyday clothes, and so it must be with great distress that he meets UT's insistence to dress as Woody from Toy Story, rather than the Marlboro Man...from my dreams.


Alongside the band was a crew of UT students flopping around next to and beneath the State of Texas flag. Among the more memorable points of the evening was when a few of them were caught beneath the flag. Uncertain as to whether or not they would ultimately survive, I overheard one gentleman cry out 'Oh ma Gawd, them kids is caught'eneath the flag. Fkn BIN LADEN!'

The audience watches as the team comes out on to the field, and as each player slaps the horns of a longhorn beefer hung on the wall. This ritual was not at all a surprise as I have learned from Friday Night Lights, each team has a very specific baptismal right of passage through which each player must enter and exit before hitting the field (e.g., before exiting the locker room, each Panther slaps the 'P' on the wall. PANTHERS SUCK! GO EAST DILLON!). What was wholly unexpected to me was the eruption from the fans; literally, as the images began to float across the Godzillatron, the audience erupted and kept erupting long past the point at which the entire team was on the field. I was so busy being shocked that I in fact missed the Longhorns' run out on to the green.

Before the game began, the Longhorns had a little chat with Jesus, because no one - and I mean no one - pays more attention to Longhorns football games than Jesus Christ (peace be upon him). When it's game night, there is no room for poverty or lepers, war, famine and disease for The Lord; no doubt, he changes from white robe to pumpkin orange robe on game day. (All snarky sarcasm aside, I think it's all kinds of awesome that they say a prayer before the game; I really do. GO LONGHORNS! I'll say a little prayer for you with Allah.)

For the first half of the game, it appeared as though the Longhorns defense were either asleep or drunk. Either way, I was surprised to watch them get their asses kicked all over the field by Denver (or Colorado). So much so that I expected, as COACH ERIC TAYLOR (HI!) would have done on Friday Night Lights, Mack Brown to be Angry Hair Yelling at the team. But he was not; instead, he was mostly squatting and watching and secret-talking into his headset. For those of you who watch Longhorns football, you will have seen the Official Mack Brown Squat, which is him, legs bent, hands on knees, looking like he is ready to go for a poop in a Vietnamese bathroom. My guess is that somewhere behind his bum and atop his hamstrings is an invisible $3M cushion which makes this comfy - the $3M being his annual salary.


Luckily, the Longhorns made a serious and amazing comeback and went on to win the game. I will not bore you with the details of the game itself, as you can find them on line, though I will say I would make an excellent football commentator as I was filled with gems such as "The hell?" "What?" "Are they drunk?" "Is that Billy Riggins?" "Do you know Taylor Kitsch?" "Oh! They're running really fast" "Is my hair ok?" & "Where can I buy a pretzel?".

I won't even tell you the final score since, honestly, I can't remember. I will, however, tell you that for every touchdown, there were cowboys in the corner of the stadium who would fire a cannon...a Longhorns game is not for the faint of heart..after which, this gentleman would run out on to the field and wave the giant Longhorns flag, followed by five others with a flag each, spelling out T E X A S because subtlety is key.

Overall, the experience was amazing and I found myself yelling loudly and with serious pain and excitement and anxiety during the fourth quarter. I had become invested without even knowing it. It helped that I was surrounded by a wonderful group of folks, two of whom are Connie (HI!) and Tams (OLA!). Connie very diligently and awesomely sends me Longhorns updates almost post every game. As of today, the Longhorns have ten wins and zero losses. These boys may just go all the way this year with Mack Brown, making it the Longhorns' second Championship under his coaching (he would only require one more to equal the championships under the leadership of Darrel Royal - whose son, incidentally, was named 'Mack'). If this happens to be the case, I plan on taking all of the credit.

In closing, please enjoy the near-religious-fervor overcoming the crowd after the win; this is a video of the Longhorns fan singing the UT anthem...under my breath, I was singing MC Hammer's Can't Touch This, in my small effort to sing-along.

Friday Night Lights season 4 premiere

Dear Friday Night Lights Writer - here are a few berry messenger notes between Baby Jane and I while watching the season 4 premiere of FNL. Take from the following what you will, including typos (as they were):

Meesho: Angry sunglasses! GO COACH ERI TAYLOR!!!

Meesho: Racoooooon!!!!!

Meesho: Oh I LOVE him for lining the field himself

J.​ Ho: Him kicking theb door? So funny and cute
Me​esho: LOVE him
J.​ Ho: Knew u would
Me​esho: Toooooooooo cute the door kicking!!!! He lloks good in red. Yum. Landry looks good.
Me​esho: I love it when he calls boys "son"

Meesho: "six am means quarter till six." Heh.

Me​esho: I hated seeing Buddy running next to that stupid golf cart

Me​esho: I love Tami - she looks AMAZING

Me​esho: Matt has lost too much weight :(

Meesho "billy tater me" nice

Me​esho: K wow - the town hall where Tami gets nailed to the wall? I want to smack McCoy's smirk off his face. So insiduous, his character.

Me​esho: Landry must have been using a new cleanser over the summer because his face has really cleared up

Me​esho: O. M. G. I LOVE his super duper enthusiastic new coach who repeats everything CET says, just louder and more aggressive!

Me​esho: Why is JD McCoy drinking and standing with a crack whore?
Me​esho: GO MATT beating the shit out of JD
Me​esho: I hope that b.tch breaks his arm in three places (JD not Matt)

Me​esho: "All I wanted to do was come home"
So sad. So sad my Rigglett :(

Me​esho: I really like Devon and I hope they make her a regular

Me​esho: He's going to have a rough year, Rigglett - self discovery, I hope

Me​esho: "Landry, stop throwin the ball, you look like a girl...just a funny lookin' creature you are."
GO GRANMAW!!

Me​esho: "GET OUT O MY HOUSE"
Wow
Wow
Wow
Me​esho: The entire scene with CET telling the asshats to get the hell out of his house RIGHT NOW
Goosebumps
J.ho: me too
J.ho: A lot
J.ho: That was a crazy scene
J.ho: He's an amazing actor

Me​esho: love the look on rigglett's face when asked if the woman he just screwed would be able to drive anytime soon
Me​esho: He needs to gain a little bit of weight

Me​esho: "You need to stop doin that. You need to stop repeating everything I say. You're freakin me out." Awesome.

Me​esho: O first coach defects from Panthers to East!
Me​esho: GO EAST DILLON!!!!

Me​esho: Tami has caught every single game he's ever coached? That's so frigging cool.

Me​esho: JULIE SHOOTS AND SCORES!!! She is wanting to go to East Dillon! I am so proud of her. So proud.

Me​esho: When that kid said that CET sounded like an infomercial, I nearly hit my screen And think it safe to say that I would have beat that boy down in CET's house if I had overheard him

Me​esho: I think that they asked Tami to flip the coin so that she wouldn't be with CET to support him
The bastards!
I hope the Panthers LOOSE!!!!
Oh!
She knows it too!!!!
Me​esho: She just flipped and won the coin toss and asked for the OPPOSITE of what they wanted her to ask for
I love tami
LOVE HER
What a woman this character is

Me​esho: Landry should be the Captain
Me​esho: Coach is angry yelling and his hair is CRAZY. I dig.

Me​esho: OMG East Dillon is so sad...But they're red and so they will beat out cold creepy BLUE
O Coach just stuck his finger in Landry's mouth HEH!
BOO it must have broken his heart to forefeit

Meesho: Gah
Meesho: Gah
Meesho: GaaaaaAAAAAkkkkKKKK
Meesho: It's already OVER!!!!!!!
Meesho: NOooioooooooooioIO
Meesho: I'm so sad now
Meesho: I love Coach Eric Taylor
Jho: wasn't it good?
Jho: It sped by
Jho: Forfit
Jho: Must have killed him
Me​esho: KILLED him
Me​esho: Imagine the sex he and Tami had that night?
Me​esho: I wish they would make FNL-porn
J.​ Ho: Ha!
J.ho: That's hilarious
J.ho: Friday night lightsl out


Comments closed.

Part 2: Americans throw the pig's skin around and HI! COACH ERIC TAYLOR!

This is part two to Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR.

**********

The Stadium
After washing my banana down with the last drops of my citrus honey tea, I walked into the stadium which is bigger than the official Senators stadium here in Ottawa. I was stunned, partly due to the banana headache and also due to the sheer magnitude of this place.

One hundred thousand people and I was the third one to walk into the stadium. Fun Fact: University of Austin has an approximate student body of 50,000. Of these, 49,881 are Asian, whereas the other 119 - a mix of boys named Vondrell and Patrick - sit on the Longhorns' football roster. (I did that without a calculator.)

Taking the half an hour stroll to my seat, I walked past the Longhorns' mascot, a bull (or something similar to) named Bevo. I was too scared to go near it and so don't know if it was in fact inside of its car. Surely this thing had bananas?

I arrived at my seat and noticed it was bare, whereas some other seats had these awesome and comfortable looking pumpkin orange leather cushions with backs. Naturally, I grappled with one in an effort to pull it over to my seat because I thought 'First come, first served'. While struggling to move the comfy bum-cushion, I was told - rather gently - that these seats one had to purchase and so, in essence, what I was trying to do was steal someone else's seat.

I could have been shot for doing this, because that's what they do in Texas.

Anyway, the old man who told me was nice enough to take my picture, as a memento of this near-thieving occasion. I was trying to take one of the seats to my right, as you can see in the picture.

First the banana, and then a cold ass. Wicked.

But you know what's more important than my cold ass? The GODZILLATRON. Texans are very creative and imaginative when it comes to the naming of things - like their children when they call them Colt, Cody, or my favorite? Hunter, because Texas is The Days of Our Lives and everyone within lives their realities in technicolor. And for those who don't? There's capital punishment.

Luckily, my ass didn't stay cold for very long, because hello, college boys, all athletic and in tight clothes and without sleeves. This is Team Colorado or Denver - I'm actually not sure which and that's how much attention I was paying. They are very smart, as you can see by their chosen outfits. GO SLEEVELESS!



Giddy and smiley I remembered I could take video. Notice what happens to my sense of focus at around the 25 second mark.



I was also quite nearly rendered deaf by the sound of techno music being blasted through the stadium. I dunno, but it must be something specific to Texas because the Denver boys were making fun of the music and dancing as though at a rave. (This very made me nearly scream TEAM DENVER! because they were so funny.)

But enough about the losing team, Denver, and instead, let's next take a peek at the Longhorns warming up. (I almost video'd them praying before they crushed Denver, but thought it would just serve as another reason for me to have my ass shot off by a Texan.)



The Set-Up: Key Players
Before ending this spazy commentary, I would like to introduce you to all key players who make the Longhorns the team that they are today.

Jesus, may peace and blessings be upon him. (As a Muslimah, I do not concur with the sandy-blonde and fair skinned fella many y'all pray to and so there shall be no image of this man on this site.)

Mack Brown, the legend himself as he appears on the GODZILLATRON:

And then later in his angry headset: (COACH ERIC TAYLOR wears it better. HI!)

Other important people milling about. Mostly, they run ahead of the team as the team gets on the field and they yell and scream and cheer them on. They say things like JESUS LOVES YOU! and WIN THIS FOR JESUS!:

There was also this guy, who was just sort of an interesting guy because he didn't yell or scream, but he did look like he belonged there and could crush Denver all by himself. Also, he's very attractive, yes?

Another Coach who, suspiciously, looks very much like Mack Brown and has the same skin coloring as Jesus (coincidence or conspiracy? You decide.):

A supremely old dude who clearly refuses to use either a cane or a walker. I took his photo because he is so very old...and between you and I, I wonder if he is still living:

One of the ESPN cameramen who bring you your pigskin and who stands on a zippy platform that...zips...at very high and aggressive speed:

And two of the three young men who likely get the most action in the State of Texas and who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders...QB1 Colt McCoy, who didn't impress me much:

& WR Jordan Shipley, who impressed me to the point of jaw-dropping hurrah-ing (remember this kid's name because very soon, he will become among the elite of the NFL):

Missing from these pictures is the image of the third young man - RB Vondrell McGee - who works with the rest of the team to kick the shit out of every other football team in the Big 12. Vondrell also impressed me to the point of jaw dropping hurrah-ing, and I expect that he too will soon enough become among the elite of the NFL, and his is a name you should remember.

**********
Next up is Part 3: The Game.

Geeking Out in Advance of Coach Eric Taylor & Taylor Kitsch

Dear Friday Night Lights Writers,

I understand that you are removing Matthew Saracen from Dillon.

So help me God if you asshats kill off Granmaw Saracen.

The end,
Maha


Dear COACH ERIC TAYLOR,

HI! How are you? I am so very very good because you're back tomorrow.

HI!

I hope you will be wearing your angry man shorts and your angry eyebrows. Also, I hope that Buddy Garrity will defect from the Dillon Panthers and love the East Dillon Giraffes instead.

GO EAST DILLON!

Love,
Maha


Dear Principal Tami Taylor,

Hi, how are you? I have missed our long conversations. So much so that earlier today? I sent an email to Baby Jane in which - and among other things, of course, Tami - I wrote out TAMI TAYLOR'S BOOBS! in 36 size bold violet font. I was communicating to Baby Jane how excited I am to see you tomorrow.

She misses you too, Tami.

I hope you wear them high and proud, sister.

Hugs and kisses,
Maha
P.S. Remember how a while back I told you that we were thinking of going somewhere and we'd love for you to come with us? Well, we've decided to go kayaking in the Pacific, zip-lining through the rain-forest and hiking up volcanoes in Costa Rica over Christmas. WANNA COME?

Dear Taylor Kitsch,

For tomorrow night's Season 4 premiere, I bought a new dress in your honor.
It is plaid and with snap buttons and clearly shows how big my brain is.

I really hope you like it.

Love,
Maha

Are you watching Friday Night Lights yet, kittens?

Comments closed.

Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake & remains clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch & COACH ERIC TAYLOR

Note: This is entry no 1 of 2, as the story is too long for one spell.

**********

Fascist Blogger thought my original title was too long and so forced me to cut it short. This should have been called 'Longhorns crush Denver & a Canuck learns the secret handshake, becomes an honorary Austinite (& yet manages to remain clueless re Football, unless associated with Taylor Kitsch's Riggins and Kyle Chandler's COACH ERIC TAYLOR), part 1 of 2'.

I do hope that changing its name at the last minute hasn't given this entry an identity crisis which will land her in the beds of strangers when she is a young teen, begging for love in all of the wrong ways.

Whatever.
FOOTBALL!
Pigskin football in all its fanatic-fueled glory.

The Tailgate
There was, originally, the intent to head over and crash tailgate parties in the main UT parking lots. Unfortunately, that day was the day I was (wonderfully) lost in the streets of Austin for six hours, and so my little feet weren't excited about the prospect of propping my ass up for anything beyond critical mass. Rather than spending 2 hours experiencing the 'tailgate', I instead managed 30 minutes cruisin' for a bruisin', only without the bruising.

Interesting this tailgate phenomenon, the likes of which exist minimally in Canada. As we are a nation of hockey lovers, and hockey is played on the ice, and a hockey season spans 18 of the 12 months of the year, Canadians tend to drunk inside of the arena, rather than in its parking lot. They may do things differently in the Country of Calgary, but that's their problem, readers. (Re 'drunk', I did not use the incorrect vowel; re '18', I did not use the wrong number.)

Tailgate is the celebration pre and often post game. Wandering around, I was offered at least seven beers from random strangers. Certainly, they felt sorry for my sad state of citrus honey tea in a Jo's cup, but I was sick and so sinning against my Islam would have to wait until post antibiotic completion. (I may or may not be lying.)

To them, I was an obvious out-of-towner, which struck me as strange because I was in jeans and leather boots, waving and smiling at everyone, which in my limited understanding of Texans, is precisely what they do. As soon as someone caught site of me, I was asked "Where you from? Come have a drink." I would chalk this up to drunk folks waiting for a game, but in all honesty, I believe it attributed more to Texas warmth and generosity.

Because of this warmth, I felt awkward about my camera and didn't take too many pictures. Amazing this, as I am usually completely oblivious to the social graces of picture taking. During my first trip to Vancouver, I asked a homeless man - with whom I was sharing my lunch and his bench - if he would mind smiling while we had our picture taken. (I may or may not be lying.)

Apart from the bar-b-ques in the lots and the massive tents, there was everything ranging from little picnics on blankets to corporate parties fully catered with a serving staff. The one thing everybody had in common was the Longhorns color of pumpkin orange. It was a sea of pumpkin pie as far as the eye could see and if I could have, I would have been hanging out in the handstand position so as to ensure that my own pumpkin leather colored boots were added to the top of that sea. As I am a weakling, I couldn't do this, so instead walked while inconspicuously kicking up my legs as high as possible. (I may or may not be lying.)

The Entry
They frisk you before letting you into the stadium and coaching you on The Secret Handshake of The Longhorns, which, by the way, I refused to use until the very end, choosing to instead use The Maha Longhorns Secret Handshake comprised of index fingers by the temples, wiggling. More on this later.

So, they frisk you to ensure you're not carrying alcohol or anything illegal (and off of which they can't make more money inside of the stadium, such as food). I wasn't allowed to take in either my tea or my banana. You read that right - my banana, which is not code for anything sexual, but rather the same sustenance enjoyed by our simian brothers and sisters.

Bananas were working for my sore throat, and even though they did not sell bananas inside of the stadium, I wasn't allowed to take it in with me.

I attempted the tried, tested and true "I'm Canadian", but still, the Longhorns Stadium Police weren't allowed to let me in. In their defense, they were very nice about it and apologized for their entirely money-driven rules.

Because 95,000 seats and 95,000 t-shirts and 95,000 leather attachment seats, and 95,000 beers, and 95,000 pretzels, and 95,000 water bottles and ESPN paying to film per game doesn't generate the same cash flow as the absence of one banana and citrus honey Jo's tea. So...before I was granted entry in to the infamous Longhorns stadium which seats 95,000 fanatics and serves as home to one of America's greatest football teams, I stood to the side and defiantly and with much pride and honor, ate that banana while declaring "YUM-ME" to every passerby.

Maintaining my Texans Behave Like This focus, I also kept up my spirited waving and smiling at all while declaring "I'm Canadian and don't know shit about football. I'll see you inside! OH, wait! Have you seen COACH ERIC TAYLOR? YUM-ME!".

**********
Part 2: The Stadium & The Game, coming next...and then, Friday Night Lights with Lisa. I will leave you with this preview of the first of many...most of which I can not recall anymore...goose-bump raising moments on the field - the entry of Denver to techno rave music.

Friday Night Lights - Season 4 premieres in five days

Go East Dillon!

Are you watching yet?

Also, download Revelry by Kings of Leon.
This song, like Friday Night Lights, breaks my heart every time. It's also one of the very few songs that makes me wish for a boy with whom to dance.

Comments closed.

Back in Austin (.5 of day 1)

I'm typing this while seated at Austin's best coffee 'house' - which is, in fact, more like an open air wooden wanna-be-bar. Really, Jo's looks as though it has the dream of being a bar when it grows up, only its growth (lucky for all of us) has somehow and somewhere along the line been emotionally stunted. Instead of being a bar, it sits as The Place That Serves The Greatest Fkn Chai Latte Ever But Has High Hopes It Will One Day Spike That Damn Chai.

Taste gracious as that may be, I'm not drinking chai. Instead, I am drowning myself in chamomile citrus tea and a truckload of honey because today is the first in four days where I have started recovering from some perverted disease that began as a throat / ear infection, then took its gloves off and quickly became a chest / sinus motherfkr. Also, I'm eating a jalapeno pepper cheddar cheese scone, which tastes as great as anything can taste when one's sinuses are taking a nap at the bottom of their feet.

Point is, I made it to Austin.
I am here. Hurrah.
(And tomorrow I will be seated at the FORTY YARD LINE SECOND ROW.
Have I mentioned this yet?)

On the trip here, I was witness to some of the...fanaticism?...which will surround me tomorrow at the FORTY YARD LINE SECOND ROW. There was a couple on my flight - they were in head to toe matching Longhorns gear (Longhorns have foot gear, made of - can you guess, ma? - leather). For those of you living under a rock, or just in Canada, the Longhorns 'color' is pumpkin orange. These two were completely and conspicuously geeking it out in their pumpkin gear.

They were seated directly across from me in the wait lounge and I thought to perform my own secret Longhorns-specific handshake, but boarding started (I place my index fingers next to my temples and pretend I have longhorns - I plan on doing this every time someone looks at me during the game tomorrow).

But what comes after boarding, kids? That's right! It's The Plane Ride Of Death At The End of Which Your Ears Might Explode Off Your Head.

(Dear Mr. Pilot -

You're an asshole.

Fk you,
Maha)

In preparation for tomorrow, I took it upon myself to learn some interesting facts about Football. They are:
the game is played on a field with white lines;
there is a ref or two;
at least two coaches - one of whom is Coach Eric Taylor married to Tami Taylor;
there is a booster named Brad Leland pretending to be Buddy Garrity, only I am uncertain as to how he spells his last name and too damn lazy to Google (I'm sick!);
here in Austin, people dress as pumpkins;
I know the secret Longhorns handshake; and,
People like me.

No doubt these facts are enough to get me through the few hours seated next to strangers staring at a field of men in tights with huge helmets that make them look like bobble-heads.

Tonight, we're off to The Salt Lick Bar-B-Que Restaurant for some seriously traditional Texas (can you guess, ma?) Bar-B-QUE.

I am excited, as equally as the cows would be my guess.

**********
.1. A few choice pics from my Hotel San Jose and Jo's.
.2. I will do my best to update daily, but considering how lazy I am, don't bet your first born on that actually happening.
.3. Comments are still on moderation so will show up either late at night or early in the morning, only (Berry's off and internet only at the hotel or Jo's).

More: Longhorns football & Friday Night Lights

I just received this in an email. It is a link to the latest promo pics for season 4 of Friday Night Lights.

.1. Zach Gilford ought to eat a sandwich and fatten up a wee bit; (I hope that it is Baby Jane whom he is eyesexing in the distance).
.2. Connie Britton is rocking each one of the pictures.
.3. Jesse Plemmons is adorable and I wish to take him out for a drunk. I mean drunk. Damn it. I mean DRINK. I hate typing in a blind-fold.
.4. Brad Leland? Buddy Garrity? Fry me up a chicken-fried-chicken steak with a side of double-fried potato wrapped in shake-n-bake, please.
.5. COACH ERIC TAYLOR. You're a fox, and for the record: unlike other audience members, I have no conflicted feelings about whether I'm more interested in you being my husband or my father. Now strip, please.
.6. Taylor Kitsch? What? Who airbrushed you to within an inch of your fantastic arms? And if you're not airbrushed, then what shade of bronzer is that (sharing = caring, thirty-three)? Also. Why isn't there a picture of your bum in the promos? And why aren't you horizontal? Foolish. (Psst. Did you notice in above item no. 3? I have a blind-fold, and it's for you, Timmy...meow...mmm yum, creepy enough for you?...)

Watch Friday Night Lights, please.

Additionally:
I hate football, and I also hate hockey when forced to watch games on television.

I do, however, love watching both live.
And it is for this reason that I have on my list of Sports-Specific Must-Dos In My Life the following two items: (1) Watch a UT at-home football game against whomever (something I flagged in my head the first time I went to Austin and visited the Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium); and, (2) Watch the Grey Cup.

So. Even though I don't like these sports and am only familiar with the ins and outs of futbol (the only sport I can watch on television), I am going to be seated in one of the most coveted seats at the next at-home UT football game. I will also, as is familiar to many, be clueless and searching for COACH ERIC TAYLOR at the side of the field. I plan on finding a Booster and getting the low-down on their football and sports-related nosiness. I plan on finding Mack Brown's wife and hanging out with her. I plan on wearing orange and geeking out on UT ways, like, currently? I am Googling special UT chants and learning them, while also Googling special UT hand gestures and learning them, so that when I greet the other fans, I will know the secret handshake.

More to the point, I also plan on making up my own UT-specific song and singing it to myself during the game; as importantly, and in an effort to appear football aware, I will also be repeating whatever I overhear from those seated next to me...only, I'll say it louder, smarter and like I mean it more than they ever could.

Here's what I have so far, to the tune of the great MC Hammer classic You Can't Touch This! (you must sing it out loud; it makes way more sense that way):

Can't touch them (x2)
Can't touch them (oh-oh oh oh oh-oh-oh) (x2)

Longhorns! Hit so hard makes others SAY! Oh my Lord
Thank you for blessing them with big strong arms and thighs that can
Bring home the big W for UT
A superdope homegirl from Canada
And she's known as such
In her head imagination FUN!

Can't touch them (x2)
Can't touch them (oh-oh oh oh oh-oh-oh) (x2)


Anyway - it is all I have right now, though working diligently to complete a full song by game day, October 10th.

Friday Night Lights & the UT Longhorns (Happy Birthday to me)

Are you watching this show yet? Are you watching Friday Night lights yet? Why not? What could you possibly be doing that hasn't allowed you to watch this show just yet? It will make your life a brighter one - trust me. You will learn, you will think, you will cry, you will try to make out with Tim Riggins and instead receive an electric shock because your saliva hitting the television screen is not the brightest of ideas. At least that's what I hear from other people.

Friday Night Lights is brilliant from A to Z. It is the best acted, written, directed television show I have ever watched, and you should be watching it too, unless you consider The Kardashians interesting, then Friday Night Lights doesn't require your low IQ in its audience. You would be a fool to let this show pass you by; and so when you watch it, please make it count so that we ensure this show stays on the air.

The beautiful man in this promo is Coach Eric Taylor (HI! Kyle Chandler); the beautiful woman Principal Tammy Taylor (HI! I LOVE YOU! Connie Britton); the man looking over his eyeglasses, the character bringing electricity to this show Joe McCoy (I shake my fist at you (lovingly)! D.W. Moffett). (East Dillon better kick Panther ass, Writers.)



In honour of this show, I am creating a new category label titled Friday Night Lights. At the bottom of this entry, you'll find it - click it if you're interested in reading all of my sad & lame entries.

Also, please note the greatest birthday present I have ever received is this UT Longhorns at-home vs Colorado football game ticket. (I was so excited to receive this that I nearly passed out...don't you dare judge me, unless it means I come out smelling like clean fresh shampoo.)

Darrrell K Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium
40 yard line
2nd row
Behind the Longhorns
(...eat your heart out, boys & see you in Austin in a couple of weeks)

Dear Taylor Kitsch (& Readers & Dan Cone)

Dear Taylor Kitsch,

From you, I have never once hid the fact that I am a cheating slut, nor that I would dump your exceptionally and perfectly curved bum, in an instant, were Coach Eric Taylor interested in cheating on Tammy (even though I pretend that I would not hurt the sisterhood in this fashion, I would stab Tammy for a chance to fumble Coach Eric Taylor's football). But that's neither here nor there. What is both here and there is that to the list of descriptives you use when you are bored and sad and miss and talk about me to your friends, you may now add 'fickle', because I am back.

I am back and ask that you forgive me my indiscretions with Jared Padalecki.
As much as I love his physique ability to speak to theology and politics, his hairstyle is setting alight dormant aspirations to hair dressing that I know will disappoint my mum ("some of my best friends are hair dressers..."). Also, Rigglett, unlike you when you are busily sexing your females, he doesn't appear to make use of his tongue very often. Since we are all very aware of the Fact that tongues are the sisterhood's BFF, this reality poses grave and disconcerting news for all, most especially I who - having waited 34 years - isn't interested in a non-tonguer. (Thank you for your time Jared 'non-tonguer' Padalecki, and good bye.)

This morning, a reader sent me this fantastic video of you being dumb (and I mean, like, in the smartest most intelligent way) and cute and very British Columbian Canadian when you declare:
"What? Are you? kidding me?
This was. I can. Can I swear?
Holy shit. Man.
That's the first time. He uh. He put the flies down.
somethingsomethingmumbleTaylorhassomethinginhismouthanditsnotmesoIdontcare
This is like.
Do you know when you're on tv? and the fuckers had the fish on the line and like? they just said action.
This is insane man.
somethingsomethingmumblemumble".

Being an Ontario native, I have a very hard time fighting off the seductive prowess of West Coast hippies such as yourself.
Will you take me back?
If you'd like, I will send you a photo of myself in a bikini while wearing thigh-high rubber boots, with a FlyFishPole in one hand...if there is such a thing...and a potted plant in the other, and standing in a pool because rivers and ponds and lakes give me the heebie jeebies.

I look forward to our reunion,
Maha
P.S. I reserve the right to cheat on you again, with whomever pleases me.


Dear Readers,

Taylor Kitsch enjoys working with sick children.
Anyone have a non-contagious one I can borrow?

Really, very grateful,
Maha


Dear Dan Cone, FlyFishingFriend of Taylor Kitsch,

I really appreciate your use of the word "channelizes"; a word I did not even know existed until watching the above linked-to video.
It is my word of the day: I am a girl who channelizes all of her energy into her make-believe cartoon life.

Thank you,
Maha

Dear So-and-So

Dear Taylor Kitsch,

Hi Rigglett. How are you? I am very well - more so than usual, because Ramadan is over and I may now have my morning venti americano with a lot of milk.

Also, I have been cheating on you ever since Jared Padalecki took off his shirt. I thought you should know.

Thanks for the memories,
Maha
P.S. I hope you don't think of me as a slut for cheating on you, unless, of course, you like cheating sluts, in which case, I remain yours forever.


Dear Jared Padalecki,

Hi. How are you? I am good.

You look terribly smart in your towel and I bet you love to talk about politics and theology.

Also, thank you for being the descendant of People With Fantastic Genes. Really, seriously. Unlike yours, my Tribe is not fitted up by People With Fantastic Genes, but rather People With Alright Genes And Every Once In A While, You Know...Not Too Shabby And We Can Really Surprise You.

Also, please undress more often.
Er...! I hope you like the font color I have chosen in honor of you.

I love your body,
Maha
P.S. I am having great difficulty not calling you DEAN as I loved you very much on Gilmore Girls. Much more so than dirty Jess and definitely more so than the blonde man-child who Rori dated for much too long.

P.S. no 2 Please cut your hair, my love. Or grow it to one length. Anything but bangs..'cus bangs are for pixies. And, because your eyes are lovely and tiny, you should really watch out about water retention - it'll show very quickly most around your eyes. (You're welcome.)


Dear Connie Britton & Kyle Chandler,

HI! HOW ARE YOU?
O! So happy that we're talking again!
I miss the both of you equally.
I understand you will be away until the slut Executives at whichever stupid place you work for have decided it's time for you to return because they are completely out of touch with reality the stupid wanks that they are.

I thought I would let you know that your absence is noted and you are missed by both myself and every single one of my 9 friends who I have introduced to Friday Night Lights.

That is all (insert sad emoticon here, please),
Maha
P.S. This shade of font is called "lavender blush". I don't get it, either.
P.S. Coach Eric Taylor? I would trade both above mentioned children Taylor Kitsch and Jared Padalecki for you in your angry man shorts. xo

Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton & Taylor Kitsch: Friday Night Lights (again)

Are you watching Friday Night Lights yet? I have forced 7 friends to start watching Friday Night Lights - all but one are in love and in obsessive watching mode. They are also making sure to make their viewing count, which is critical to the longevity of the brilliant and amazing Friday Night Lights. You too must do the same, please.

Dear Coach Eric Taylor -

Hi. How are you?
I like you very much.
Who is this doppelganger pretending to be you, neither from Texas nor in angry man shorts, angry sunglasses nor angry headset?
What the hokey pokey hell, Coach?
My state of reality is highly fragile and I become discombobulated much faster than most.
I am deeply troubled and I need you, Coach Eric Taylor, to point your right finger at me, whilst your left hand sits atop the angry belt of your angry man shorts and you state "nominate a teacher now, son. It's what men do. It's the right thing to do, son." (For the record, Coach Eric Taylor: I don't have a peen, and so am a girl, but will allow you to call me son.)
Can you please record a new public service announcement for me?

Further, I would greatly appreciate if you were to wear your green t-shirt a little more often, thank you.

You are my angry hero in green, Coach Eric Taylor, and I am sincerely yours,
Maha

Dear Connie Britton / Tammy Taylor -

Hi. How are you?
I like you as much as I like your angry and oftentimes confused husband, Coach Eric Taylor. Please understand I would never make a pass at your husband, no matter how angry and hot he is in his angry man shorts and angry headset. I wouldn't do that to the sisterhood, Principal Taylor. (Principal Taylor? I might be a liar.)

I am writing this to you because I was wondering: Would you like to have a drink with me sometime?
In the future, I will probably have some boy problems that I will need to discuss with you because you are very clearly the world's greatest listener of all time and I really like the way you communicate with your angry husband, Coach. I also wonder, do you ever call him 'Coach' when you are having adult private time?
That just made me giggle. I hope you giggled too.

By the way, my best friend and I are going to a combo of Morocco, Turkey and / or Cairo this coming Christmas and we were wondering if you'd like to join us?

I've used three variations of the word 'wonder' in my letter to you. It's because I like that word and you make me shy and nervous with your fantastic breasts and large pretty brown eyes.
I wonder if I am now starting to creep you out?
Please don't be scared of me if I show up at your backyard and try to fix your broken air conditioning unit. It's because I like you very much.
(Also, I agreed with you about your dream home. I think you wanted to cry when Coach said no - I wanted to cry for you. I wonder, did you want to cry but the writers didn't let you?)

I would like some pointers on how to do the same as you in the boobs department, please. (See what I just did there, Tammy? "Pointers", like boobs? That made me giggle, too. I wonder if I can call you "Tammy"?).

I am yours in sisterly solidarity,
Maha

Dear Tim Rigging / Taylor Kitsch -

Hi. How are you?
I don't squeal easily over boys, but I am squealing like a little school girl over you, my Rigglett.
I become seriously frazzled every time that your 17-year-old self shows up on my screen.

I am writing to you because I would like you to please stop screaming on my screen. Unfortunately, every time you do scream, my Rigglett, I hurt my hand in my small effort to place a lozenge in your mouth. And honestly, a lozenge is all I would ever try to place in your mouth. (Tim Riggins? I might be a liar.)

I am also sending you this letter because I would like to know which name brand and colour of blush you use, please. If you can spare a further moment, I would also like to know what stain of lipstick you use. On. Your. Mouth.
Your. Mouth.
You have the greatest mouth in the history of mouths and if ever I meet you, my Rigglett, I will try to poke your mouth in an effort to see if it is, as it appears to be, very cushiony to the touch.

I'm pretty sure my vision just blurred a little, Rigglett.

I am yours with the sincerest of sentiments: I would very much like to touch your hair if only to shampoo it,
Maha
P.S. Do you like bubblegum? I do, very much. I thought you should know. Bazooka is my favourite. Bye.

Friday Night Lights

I don't have cable and tend to only watch television shows the DVDs of which my friends pass along. Since perhaps 4 years ago, I have not found anything worthwhile, preferring instead to geek it out inside of novels. For this reason, I rarely come across a television show which devastates me. Friday Night Lights is, undoubtedly, the most devastating of shows I have been an audience to in 30 years. (I love you, L for most recently handing me the DVDs; I have purchased seasons 1 & 2 so as to ensure that my support for the show is in fact counted.)

The family values, relationship and community values which this show speaks to are heartbreaking and hilarious and exactly where I wish to be.

Let me immediately get out of the way that: this is the best written, best directed and best acted show I have ever watched. In all technical incarnations, it is simply brilliant, filled with characters, each of whom is beautifully flawed and therefor more real than any famewh*re found in reality television; Friday Night Lights is a welcome slice of home-made pound cake. (As equally important is that there are no god-awful metrosexuals on this show; it is unapologetically a show where men are men and women are women, without falling into the stereotypical gender boundaries other television shows inevitably flop and default to because their writing team is a composite of idiots.)

Also, I am usually a crying mess at least once during every episode...

The characters
This is a show of man meat.
I should write Man Meat, more than man meat; everywhere there is Man Meat, and as follows.

Granmaw Saracen, who reminds me of my mama looks-wise and who I wish to hug every time she comes on to the screen. I love her so and hope the writers never take her off the show. Ever. And if they must, then that they would please write a new show called "Tiara, Pie & Eye Wear Shopping With Granmaw Saracen". She breaks my heart every time and I love her as much as I love her fictional grandson...
Mattew Saracen, the sweetest kid in the world and what every girl should want for her daughter's first boyfriend; note, for our daughters not us, because we tend to be foolish and reckless and are instead drawn to the likes of...
Tim Riggins, not nearly as pretty as I am. Troubled boy with a retarded body; the stripper with a heart of gold, only he's not a stripper ('why not' is what I'd like to know, Writers?!). Perfect to look at, but not built for long-term situations; just let your imaginations run rip shod over the topography of that boy's body and stop right there. Thirty-three also has a sort of mini-me, his brother...
Billy Riggins, who could always use more chap-stick and who is all kinds of redneck funny and probably a lady killer, much like Tim, when he had more hair. (Writers! Please tell us more about Tim and Billy and their drunk dad.)

There's also THE SMASH, who has the world's greatest smile and who is cocksure and arrogant and sexy and still scared of...
THE SMASH MOMMA, quite possibly the prettiest prettiest prettiest lady I have ever seen and on whose very large breasts I would like to be comforted and maybe take a nap, please. (Don't judge me until you've seen how comfortable everyone looks when she hugs them.)
A special shout out here to Nonni, THE SMASH SISTER, and an exquisite little actress.

Landry, hilarious geek who is the long-lost-cousin of Matt Damon, hopelessly in love with...
Tyra, whose character development has been fascinating, though predictable. I guess the alternative would have been the crackwhore in Fame, and I'm happier with this sort of a Tyra, who far outdoes...
Layla who, though am sure she is a really lovely girl in real life, I wish would just Stop. Nose-Whisper-Talking, please. But while you're still there, why don't you - on behalf of the sisterhood, that is - cup Riggins' bum more often? And undo his shirt? And tousle his hair? And kiss his eyelids? And lick his neck?
Wait. What?
Oh...right. So, anyway, Layla is the daughter of...
Buddy who I hated during season one and then sort of felt sorry for and started to love in season two. He is a sloppy sort of character who clearly eats much too much steak and chicken-fried-chicken and chicken-fried-steak, but who you cheer for in the darker recesses of your mind. (GO! BUDDY! GO!)

Jason Street, maybe the first major character in a show who happens to be a quadriplegic. Good for you FNL! Bravo indeed. Jason is an amazing character, so innocent and sweet and honest and loyal and all kinds of good even though he looks like Ray Liotta who is capable of much evil in character. Even when six is angry, he is adorable.
His other quad friend, who is mean, but only because he really loves Jason (this sentence makes me sound as a 7 year old). I have forgotten his character's name; no matter, he is brilliant like the rest.

Julie Taylor, the perfect moon-faced teenager, angry, frustrated, irritated, bratty, in love with Mattew Saracen and daughter of...
Tammy Taylor, she of the greatest breasts on telly. Among the strongest female characters to ever hit the screen, with the perfect lines, always the perfect lines (e.g. "I gotta pump and dump, baby. I love you. Don't touch me."). (I would really like the Writers to have a phone line, where I could call in my problems, placed on pause, until they prattle off my next verbal strike.) The character is the perfect mix and balance of femininity, strength, devotion and loyalty without loss of self. The actress who plays Tammy is gorgeous - simply gorgeous and the chemistry between Tammy and her husband is palpable.

Who, then, is her husband?

The one man with whom I have fallen in love: Coach Eric Taylor. A man of very few but always intelligent words. (Dear Writer: Marry me?) I understand that I should be ogling the younger Man Meat, but I am much more turned on by this more mature male, it would seem (suspect it's Riggins that the Writers wish for us to be eyesexing, but his boyishness can't hold its own against the complete manliness of Coach).

Coach Taylor, with his angry hair and eyebrows, biting-of-his-inner-bottom-lip, and adorable man shorts makes me weak at the knees. Especially when he doesn't know what to say, or is so frustrated all he can do is a sexy nose twitch in his terribly ugly sports sunglasses (which, by the way, ought to be outlawed and men only allowed to wear aviators).

This fictional character is, in my head and imagination, how a real man behaves. A man who fiercely loves and is devoted to his family and his team and his community; a man who really truly understands morality and does his absolute utmost to always maintain the fabric of that morality even while he knows he may be failing because he is, at the end of the day, only human.

(Is it a surprise that he is fictional? Honest question, this...)

My favourite lines uttered by Coach Taylor (thank you Writers!): "Women are to be respected."
&
"You're wrong. You are dead wrong."
I. Love. Coach.

My favourite scene, driving home the strength of this fictional character: When Tammy tells him she slapped Julie (who, let's face it, deserved a solid beat down in that moment, if for no other reason than for dating what appeared to be an Elvin man-child.).

Why aren't you watching this show yet?
Please watch this show; it shall make your life a better place. Promise. (Don't thieve download it, though; make sure you are making your viewing count, or it shall vanish to The Cemetery of Excellent Writing, Acting & Directing All But For A Crap Audience.)