four days out

"You're the whisper of a summer breeze;
You're the kiss that puts my soul?  At ease!
What I'm saying is?  I'm into you!

Here's my story, and the story goes --
You give love?  You'll get love!
And more than heaven knows!

You're gonna see!
I'm gonna run, I'm gonna try!
I'm gonna take this love right to ya!

All my heart!
All the joy!
Oh baby, baby please!

(Rush!  Rush!)
Hurry, hurry lover come to me!
(Rush!  Rush!)
I wanna see, I wanna see ya get free with me!

(Rush!  Rush!)
I can feel it!  I can feel you all through me!
(Rush!  Rush!)
Ooh!  What you do to me! ..."

-- "Rush Rush" by (Simon Cowell voice) Pauler Abdul.  And yes, that is THE Keanu Reeves, as her "rush rush" lover in the music video.  (Pause).  Yes.  Yes.  If you put a gun to my head?  1989-1991 is the greatest three years in music history ...

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(Some) Wednesday Updates!

(And that's all y'all get tonight; my day at work did not go as planned.)

* The Chiefs STM Email arrived about 11am today!

So ... the Chiefs are allegedly giving us only five hours to properly prepare for warfare ... and that's more like four, since we'll break down and head in by 1pm.  (Pause).  What?  (Pause).  You're godd*mned right I'm calling bullsh*t on that!

Those gates will be flung wide open by 8am at the latest.  Because we'll back Gates Six and Seven out onto Stadium Drive by 7:30am at the latest.

(Note: I have an email in to my "highly placed source who speaks only on the condition of anonymity", the awesome "Rufus" (again, why do I use ""'s around his actual name?), anyways, I've asked "Rufus" what he thinks of this email sent today.  For the record, he has never mislead me on Gate Six's opening time.  Based on past precedent?  I'd set the over/under at 7:45am, and bet the under.)

* At least they're not giving out a towel.  As my good tailgating buddy Ryan points out, we're 0 for forever, when handing out towels, entering a playoff game.  (The first 50,000 get a flag on Sunday.  La de f*cking dah; I have more Chiefs flags hanging in my office than pictures of my family ... and that's not a good thing, I think.  On the other hand ... I have the towel from 2016, both towels from 2017, and the towel from 2018 -- to say nothing of the towel from January 4, 1998 -- hanging on each shelf in memoriam of the season I absorbed said towel.  Yes, each season ended, with said towel give-away.  So ... go flag?)

* On the other hand, I'm bring this bastardo out on Sunday, as my John Thompson / Jerry Tarkanian Memorial "Bite the F*ck Out Of It" Stress Towel:

(From the playoff game in Houston (mike gundy voice) four! years ago.  Image credit: me, via my iPhone whatever the hell it was, (mike gundy voice) four! years ago.)

* Have to give a shout-out to my good friend Cindy, who managed to replace my Second Mom's floor mats in her Tahoe over the weekend, and said Mom didn't notice until this morning, when she texted me and asked "who the hell put the Chiefs mats in this thing?  I love them!"  Sadly, it wasn't my doing ... but kudos to people smarter than me.

* Travel Updates: "Uncle" Bob, "Cousin" Chase, and wherever the hell Pat fits in, arrive late Friday. 

Mahomies (most of them -- Chance lives here in the metro) arrives midday Saturday. 

We'll all be in line at Gate Six, by 7:30am at the latest.

* Bus Update: we've all seen the weather forecast for the next few days.  It ain't pretty.  (For those not in KC at this moment?  Rain and mid 50s Thursday.  Rain and mid 30s Friday.  Snow and mid 20s Sunday.  Somehow?  40 and sunny at kickoff Sunday.  As the artist formerly known as "the champ" would note?  "That's doable!")

So we're making our beer and liquor run tomorrow, loading the coolers tomorrow night (since it'll be below freezing from mid-day Friday until sometime Sunday morning), then turning that bastardo around, putting a tarp over the windshield, and will be ready to roll at 7am Sunday.

* The Menu has stayed the same.  Other than Mahomies checked in via Coltin, and emphasized that there will be authentic chorizo in the breakfast burrito mix.  (Pause).  Should I employ a Peter Griffin voice to state the obvious?  (Pause).  Yeah, I probably shouldn't have. 

Anyways, there you go.

* The Chiefs Jerseys went on the Founders in, uuh, Founders Plaza, this afternoon.  (43rd and Broadway, for the clueless.) 

Mahomes, Kelce, Mathieu.  15, 87, 32.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Kudos to Bunker (or whoever provided them; it's usually Bunker); it makes the drive in tomorrow, and Friday, and hopefully all next week?  Look so much classier. 

Also, tomorrow, there are flags and jerseys to be hoisted along the north shore of Ward Parkway, and along 47th Street on The Plaza ... and the Seven Foot Mahomes Bobblehead will be at the JC Nichols Fountain from 2-5pm CT tomorrow. 

(Or, as my brother would note -- given we took his wedding party pics at that park and fountain almost fifteen years ago: "they finally cleaned up after us!"  #truth)

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* Finally tonight, a quick personal note. 

(Note: if you are offended by personal take on your right to kill your kid abortion?  Check out now.)

Tomorrow, my mom turns seventy.

And tomorrow, marks the 43rd anniversary, of her taking me home, for the first time.

(That would be Sunday, January 9, 1977, for the calendar challenged.)

I drive by the place I was born many Monday's (January 3, 1977, at 10:58pm CT, according to my birth certificate) ago (St. Luke's on The Plaza or Westport, whichever you prefer) twice a day ...

... (mike gundy voice) four! times a day, if I head home for lunch.

So I just want to say, to the greatest person I will ever know ... Happy YOU Day, Mom.

You have tolerated far, far more out of me than any sane and/or reasonable person ever should.  I have failed you more times than I can recall or recount.  (Cue all of you saying the same response as Mom: "no sh*t, Sherlock!") 

I am for most days out of the year, the definition of "a Spring Break Mistake gone horribly wrong!" 

I wish I wasn't ... but I am.

And yet?  Here we are.

I can never express in words, how much I love you.  And that, is the greatest compliment I think I could ever pay you: I don't know HOW to express, what I think of you ... and what you mean to me.

For some strange and undefinable (if not indefensible) reason, you have never once failed to have my back, no matter how much of a f*ck up and failure, I have been.

That, is beyond awesome.

But mostly?

I am so effing thankful, you chose to not make me a Planned Parenthood statistical, because of that "Spring Break Gone Horribly Wrong".

(Note: the words in quotes, are a running gag between me and Mom.  #whyyoudontpullthegoalie) 

The world can never deny one fact about me.

You chose to have me.

Everyone reading this may question your wisdom of that decision (and to be fair, it's a, uuh, fair question)... but I never will.

Because you CHOSE to have me.

All of us drawing breath?

Owe our mothers an undying debt of gratitude, that we are here, and have survived the modern-day Holocaust that is Roe v Wade.

Thank you Mom, for choosing me, over yourself.  Thank you -- truly, thank you! -- for caring more about this "squatter invading your space slightly above the sexual Mason-Dixon Line", over the convenient "nah, I'll pass on this one" option, that you had still have the right to choose.

("maude" voice) God will (definitely reward) you for that.

I may not be certain of much ... but I am, of that.

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Oh, and until tomorrow one more time: