Labor Day in Oklahoma

I’m making my first trip home this weekend since moving from Oklahoma to Virginia.

I’m really excited, but I’m bracing myself. Basically, I’ve set myself up for the most exhausting, but really fun, weekend of all time.

The next 72-ish hours will go something like this:

Finish packing, say sad goodbye to Mr. T (a whole three days apart, whatever will we do <- sarcasm)

Get in bed at 7:30 p.m.

Toss and turn because who can really sleep that early?

Wake up at 4 a.m.

Take a shower in coffee and home it seeps into my pores and prepares me for the day.

Leave the house at 5:15 a.m.

Drive to Baltimore.

Get violated by the TSA.

Secretly kind of like it – I’m an exhibitionist.

Get on a plane at 7:40 a.m.

Watch Dexter on my computer. Feel superior to those around me who don’t have such a quality way to pass their time.

Drink a Bloody Mary.

Arrive in OKC at 12:10 p.m.

See the brother, dad and SIL for the first time in three months! Rejoice!

Drive from OKC to Norman for OU game!!

Begin drinking heavily.

See friends! Hoorah!

Kickoff at 7 p.m. Cheer like a lunatic. Tear up at the Sooner Intro video like a sucker. Sing Oklahoma, Hail! with fellow alumni and tear up again.

Watch OU kick Tulsa’s ass. (knock on wood. I almost don’t even want to type that. so superstitious.)

Start to sober up because there is no booze at NCAA stadiums. Feel anger toward the NCAA about this.

Acquire hangover by 10 p.m.

Realize I’ve been awake for 18 hours, and only sober four about 6.

Get whiny and fall asleep in the car on the way home.

Crash at brother and SIL’s house.

Wake up, hope the brother and SIL feed me something and give me mass quantities of coffee.

Get dressed, drive to Small Town USA.

See the rest of my family. Three cheers!

Eat Mexican food until I want to throw up. Then eat some more, because I won’t get it again until November.

Drink Tecates in large schooners with lime on the rim (no salt).

Celebrate all the birthdays I’ve missed since I’ve been gone!

Eat cake/pie/some sort of delicious Grandma-made delicacy for dessert.

Go to a bar in slightly less Small Town USA, hang out with only high school friend I still like. Woo hoo!

Try to watch college football, if they’ll play the A&M game.

Remember how stupid A&M is for thinking anyone cares if they switch conferences.

Drink beers.

Start to fade as lack of sleep once again defeats me.

Crash again.

Wake up, try to make myself look at least one step up from a zombie.

Go to Remington Park – Oklahoma City’s horse race track that I’ve never been to before.

Reunite with my mom! Yay!

Eat.

Gamble. Maybe this will be my way out of the poverty I’ve over spent my way into the past few months? Oh wait, do race tracks take American Express? Mastercard? No. Damn.

Probably drink more. Maybe a mint julep? Isn’t that what horse race people drink? Oh, I should pack a hat. On it.

Leave race track.

Say sad goodbyes to the people I love. (Don’t even want to think about this).

Fly home at 5:30 p.m. Central Standard Time.

Mourn the fact that I have no more Dexter to watch. Try to read a book. Probably cry a little.

Arrive in Baltimore at 11:35 p.m.

Drive the 45 minutes home.

Pray I don’t run out of gas, because there’s no way I’m stopping.

Get home, unpack because I’m anal like that, shower because I’ll be a hot ass mess.

Go to bed sometime around 1:30 a.m.

Wake up at 7:43 a.m. with violence in my heart.

Trudge to work.

Try not to fly into a murderous, sleep-exhaustive rage.

Fail.

Get fired.

Blog about all of this again, just so you’ll know I didn’t lie.

File for unemployment.

Get dumped by Mr. T because I’m now a smelly vagrant.

Hole up under a bridge, learn how to beg.

My sign reads “Will blog for food”.

Realize I’ve taken this way too far. Stop.

What are you doing this weekend?