A Bulldog and her bee

I've mentioned before that Mr. H and I went to "rival" universities. I quote rival because hubs' GT loathes my UGA, but we could really care less about them. :)

So last Saturday, Mr. H convinces me to spend the afternoon at The Tavern to watch GT take on Wake. Turns out it was an official watch party and the guy in charge got all nerdy pissy and threw a full cup of water on another spectator he called "you f-ing asshole." Pretty sure if Mr. Nerd-in-Charge could have made steam shoot out of his years, he would have. Instead he grabbed his box of pom poms and ran away. True story.

So following the nerd drama, everyone settles down and watches the game (that I could care less about, but am an excellent and supportive wife so I politely clapped at the appropriate times). So GT wins in overtime, the rest of the crowd goes wild and sings their fight song. Ya know, the one where they brag about being "ramblin' wrecks" and "helluva engineers"? This is also the song where they shout "to hell with Georgia" no matter WHO they are playing. I mean really, you can't fill in the blank with your actual opponent? You just shout about a "rival" that only thinks about you the Saturday after Thanksgiving? Ok. Got it. So they shout "To hell with Georgia" and I promptly raise my right hand and middle finger into the air.

On the way home, I tell Mr. H that I hope he didn't mind my bird during the fight song.
His response: No babe. I thought it was classy. You did what you had to do.

That's right. My husband thinks I'm one classy lady.

Cheers,
One Classy Bulldog