Weekend Winks – Football Fail

The failure of my fave football teams showing up and kicking ass this weekend didn’t deter me from having an overall fabulous time with the fam in our usual Saturday shenanigans.

Jell-O shot jigglers.

Game day began with Ted and I sharing breakfast – he goes straight for the cheese while I stick to my egg.

Pussy approved breakfast.

While my fur ball was busy scarfing down my food, the twins were taste testing apples at an Iowa orchard.

Apple orchard cuties.

Our family’s version of Snow White….

…and Prince Charming.

As the Iowa Hawkeyes kickoff drew near, New Cat assumed his position as greeter, anxiously awaiting our arrivals.

Game day greeter.

The bar was stocked with my dad’s rot gut vodka (Taaka vodka could seriously start your throat on fire if you chose to smoke a cigarette while consuming), my beloved Captain and Popcorn Sutton White Whiskey was on standby for our traditional touchdown shots.

Stocked bar, warm bellies.

Naturally we can’t have cocktails galore without tasty tailgating treats.

Let the game day grazing begin!

My mini manse morphed into a brief media room when we were unable to get our Hawkeye game on TV due to the previous game running long. Typically this would simply be an inconvenience but since it was our in state rivalry game – the Iowa Hawkeyes vs. the Iowa State Cyclones, we were antsy to get the football show on the bigger screen.

Double vision.

My pussies were less than impressed to be kicked off the couch and resorted to the front window, where they plotted how to keep their mother sleepless on a Saturday night.

Your football game is stupid and you will pay.

Ignoring the holes being scorched into my head from the kit cats, moonshine was passed around for two Hawkeye touchdowns.

Cockier with every swig of this cocktail.

Busy with moonshine, Skinny Pirates and the football game, I turned my back for one second and found New Cat perusing among the food.

New New is fully of naughty.

And when I whipped back around from scolding the pesky pussy, my Hawkeyes had lost the game by a last second Cyclone field goal.

No bragging rights this year.

Not only did I promise to be done with my team (fair weathered fan right here) this year in my post game misery, Ted wallowed in this disappointing loss by demanding a belly rub.

Rub me now, Bitch.

Drowning the rest of my Saturday sorrows in Skinny Pirates, I was able to get my ass to Target (my mothership) Sunday morning for the debut of the Altuzarra for Target line.  And rolling out of bed for this proved worthwhile as Altuzarra produced beyond cute merch that I was able to manhandle, making my football heavy heart skip a beat.

My version of church.

Back to the mini manse in time for the Tennessee Titans game, New Cat could barely watch as the Dallas Cowboys kicked some Nashville tail.

Is this football bullshit over yet?

Discouraged by the outlook of football season for my teams, I blew off the losing steam with a run in the crispy fall sun.

Lipstick and lunged my way through the park.

And then I parked it for Sunday night date night with my fave feline.

Wine and pussy time.

Cheers to a fabulous week my friends!