Boots, big hair, and boobs. Welcome to Dallas.

This Friday I went to Cowboys Stadium to watch the Frito Lay XLV North Texas Superbowl Countdown.  I, unlike the other 39,999 people there was really only interested in seeing the UNT orchestra, but I did know that Emmitt Smith would be making an appearance and since I am the daughter of a quarterback who swears unwavering loyalty to the Dallas Cowboys, none of the disasters you're about to read would have allowed me to skip the event.

My wonderful roommate, who will very soon be the biggest thing in opera conducting, told me a few weeks ago that the UNT symphony had been invited to play this little shindig and would be accompanying Tim McGraw (don't care, but this will become important later).  Furthermore, Mr. McGraw wants to make a live recording of this performance and maybe sell it so that's really good publicity for the UNT College of Music.  So, I bought two tickets - one for me and one for the non-boyfriend, maybe we're dating, but we haven't ever had the DTR (define the relationship talk) so I'm not really sure what's going on there boy who would be returning from a 6 week deployment the very same day.  I even spent the extra $10 for the reserved parking.

So, the events gets closer and non-DTR boy and I have several exchanges about what the exact date of the "Superbowl thing" is which basically resulted in complete confusion.  Anyway, bottom line is the day of I was alone and looking to find someone to take the extra ticket, but didn't so I decided it was fine, I like football and I'd just make friends there.  So, I start down the road and not twenty minutes later, I hear that good old trusty sound.......flat tire floppy.  Perfect.  So I pull over, but of course I'm pretty sure I'm going to die because, well, Texans aren't the greatest drivers in the world and I'm not sure the know quite how wide their pick up trucks really are.  So I get out my insurance card and sure enough, there's no Roadside Assistance number.  So, who do you call?  Mom.  But she didn't have it either, so three phone calls later (and after being informed that it was after hours and I'd have to call back tomorrow at 9am) we finally found the number which is now safely stored in my phone.  So, 30 minutes the nice man says, and do I have a spare?  Yes, a full size one thank you very much.  Well, 60 minutes later, no teeth creepy tobacco chewing axe murderer arrives to change my tire.  He did a very nice job, even though I refused to open the window wide enough for him to get his chubby little hand through, and told me I should have it retorqued within the next 40 miles.

So I pull back on the road (almost got sideswiped by a semi and then got honked at by the ugly ass pick up truck three lanes over, and drove the next few miles under the speedlimit because I was convinced my new lovely tire would probably fly off and I'd flip my pretty red car over.  And then.......I realized that not only was there this superbowl thing, but there was also a Rangers game the same night.  Lovely.  So now I'm late and waiting in traffic with the other 100,000 people who want to go to the two mile strip of land that houses Jerryland and the Temple.  Perfect.  So, I finally did arrive (after I discovered that my little $10 parking voucher put me WAY at the end of everything).

So I go in, sit down next to the crazy single mom who will not give her screaming child the water he is clearly asking for nor will she sit still or stop screaming at the top of her lungs anytime she sees a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, Jerry Jones, Emmitt Smith, Darren Woodson, Tim McGraw or any of the other 39,999 people inside the place.  Perfect.  My favorite kind of people to sit next to.

All in all the orchestra was great, Tim McGraw was boring, and the cheerleaders have stupid costumes.  Perhaps someone should also remind Jerry Jones that he is not a strapping young lad of 25 but a crazy old rich man of what? 70?  But good times.  The best part of the night, though, was how obvious it was that Tim McGraw couldn't have been bothered to rehearse at any point so his earpiece didn't work.  His response?  Look down and just make no noise (yes, you will disappear like a gecko).  Then he was supposed to end and the symphony would end with him.....but he decided to go greet pretty much everyone in the freaking place so they just kept repeating repeating repeating.  And best of all, Tim McGraw then tried to shake the hand of the man directing a 95 piece orchestra.  Good move buddy....that won't screw them up at all!

If you know me at all, you know that I think rhinestones and animal print make any outfit better.  I. WAS. WRONG.  I have never seen so many rhinestone studded cowboy boots on blondes with mile high hair and boobs flying all over the place!  I literally thought I walked into a Marlboro ad when I walked in.  There were cowboy hats and men in wranglers dippin into their tobacco tins and then girls in barely there skirts with boobs popping out and cowboy boots all over the place.  Where are Clinton and Stacey when you need them?  Can we make over an entire city?  All I'm saying is, remember Coco Chanel: always remove an accessory before you go out of the house.