A Wolfpacker's Perspective: Reunions Blow

REUNIONS BLOW. Let me clarify that, other people's reunions blow.

The girl that I'm going out with (who refuses to be saddled with the label of "girlfriend") recently had a small high school reunion at her house. I had no desire to be in attendance since I didn't know any of these people and I do more than enough obligatory laughing at my day job- I don't want to do it at home.

Maybe this makes me a bad boyfriend (I have no problem being saddled with the label), but I think it's lame to spend hours listening to people reminisce about their past. High school stories are like babies…they're only cute when they're your own. And I wouldn't ask my friend that's a girl to come to an informal reunion of mine where we're going to sit around and talk about the "good old days." There's a reason I've lied to her about my past, so having her present as tales are accurately recounted by my friends would not be in my best interest.

But she was adamant that I be there so, of course, I was. It just so happens one of her old classmates went to Ohio State (he and his wife). I told them as strange as it may seem, she was the first female Buckeye fan I'd ever met. I asked her if there were other Buckettes but she just looked at me like I had food in my teeth and went on her way. Little did I know that I had opened an ugly can of worms, I would soon find out that Mrs. Buckeye was a heavy martini drinker who didn't take too kindly to opposing fans (my girl made the mistake of telling her that I wrote for an N.C. State website).

The whole night Mr. Buckeye's loud, inebriated and obnoxious wife would take time from grazing to heckle me from across the room about our upcoming game. "Mo Clarrett's gonna run all over you!" was a common cry. "Nobody beats the Buckeyes in the ‘Shoe!" came at me a few times. But far and away, "Wooooo Buckeyes rule!" was her cheer of choice. Ah, the mating call of the buzzed Midwesterner. My tongue has gotten me into trouble with my girl's friends before so I had to promise to be nice (and beer-free) for the night. Therefore, I was relegated to just smiling at the red-faced, moron as she mercilessly taunted me. As sad as my life was though, somewhere out there, her OBGYN was having to face a much harsher reality than I.

ANYWAY, I'm currently trying to buy a house and a friend of a friend who is a mortgage broker happened to be at this shindig and he and I talked about the ins and outs of buying property. That's when Mr. Buckeye (prompted by Mrs. Buckeye) interrupted us to read me something that he had gotten off of an Ohio State website. It's a laundry list of instructions for N.C. State fans on how to behave in Columbus. It's a take off of a Dennis Leary rant (with a bit of the "call me ‘Francis' and I'll kill ya" monologue from "Stripes" thrown in). Keep in mind that what I'm about to present to you (according to these Ohio State alums with their fingers on the pulse of the Columbus community) is becoming a phenomenon with Buckeye fans.

Here are some of the random "stipulations" that Buckeye fans have for Pack fans (Mr. Buckeye left the list behind; lucky me):

"Don't talk stupid, saying "Y'all," or "how bout them Wolves?". Use that fifth grade education your strip mining and pig farming parents are so proud you earned. We use words like "Pardon me," "Excuse me," and "Thank you." We call this a Northern custom called "manners." Make fun of the way we talk and we'll kick your A$$."

"Do not make fun of our cosmopolitan city. We like it. We smell the pigfarms in North Carolina even this far away. This is a civilized city so try to shave and take those toothpicks out of your mouth for a day. Don't even think about bringing those Klan (err, Rebel) flags into our city. Make fun of Columbus and we'll kick your A$$."

"Yes, we know we have beautiful girls. And they can actually talk and they have a complete set of teeth. Do not dare make fun of our women. Women are the pride of Buckeye country. Our women can perform surgery, landscape a yard, work all day, raise three kids, cook exotic foods you haven't had such as steaks and vegetables, and still look like a Victoria's Secret model at midnight. Make fun of, or even think of, hitting on our women and we'll kick your A$$."

Yep, this is what passes as humor for Ohio State fans; makes you want to run to an open mic night while you're in Columbus this September, doesn't it? But I gave the dreaded obligatory laugh at the rant and tried to get back to my real estate discussion. But Mr. Buckeye just had to keep going. After comparing Coach Amato to Joe Pesci and making fun of our accents for the tenth time, ol' Buckeye brought up the beautiful girl thing again. "Ohio State has the most beautiful women in the world" he boasted. I told him how surprised I was to hear that since all of the female Buckeye fans I knew were far more homely than hottie. He didn't get it.

"Oh no, you're used to those trashy trailer women in the south. The women at Ohio State? 99.9 percent are drop-dead gorgeous." I asked him how it felt to be in such select company with the other .1 percent dude that he was referring to, and this time…this time he got it. As we've already seen, Ohio State fans don't have a sense of humor and this just solidified it. He sulked away and I knew that I had once again done bad. But the good news is that I may have found a house.

But it's not quite over, yet. I guess Mr. Buckeye told Mrs. Buckeye what I had said and she came over to me hunting for bear. I mean, she was up in my face reading me the riot act. Now I felt sorry for two people: her obgyn and her dentist (although if her dental hygiene is any indication, this chick sees her dentist about as often as she sees her feet). Now I'm fully aware of what kind of life I've lead up to this point (I whole heartedly expect to come back as a chain-link fence in my next life) and it would have been in my character to return fire with this she-beast, but then it hit me. College football is right around the corner; life is good. Life is very good.

I hugged Mrs. Buckeye, shook Mr. Buckeye's hand profusely, grabbed myself a Shinerbock, a bottle opener, went outside and broke my promise to my girl. Life. Is. Good (and I better enjoy it now while I can because I suspect chain-link fences don't get to watch that much college football).

Stay safe and stay tuned…

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