Okay. I just got back from a sports bar where I watched a sports game? Apparently today was a big night for football?

It was all very perplexing to me because I don't care for the football. Being as I'm in Texas, the whole place was a giant sea of orange. Being as I'm a little shit, I cheered for other team. That is, until the end of the game when it started to get all interesting.

The whole game was what my dad would call a "barn burner", although they were at a stadium, not a barn. It was neck and neck...then neck and collarbone...then neck and neck! Due to the super squealy obnoxious plasticine frat girls in the booth next to us, my friend and I decided to go watch the last two minutes of the game out in the super crazy middle area of the bar.

It was at that point that I became interested in the game.

No, not because of the game, but because I realized my purpose in life for the evening. I wanted to get a double high five from someone. Looking around, I found the most proactive double-high-fiver in the whole joint, and strategically placed myself as close to him as possible. You know Officer Garcia from Reno 911? Well, he looked just like him, or at least his moustache looked like him.

With about a minute to go, the locally popular white team scored a winning touchdown. I held both my hands up in the air and waited with my eyes closed... I felt the double slap and THEN excitedly began to jump up and down, cheering. Everyone else was cheering for the Texas victory, but I was cheering because I got me my double high five.

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