Just one more drink isn't going to hurt us

"I dunno... you really think we can handle one more?" I asked my basketball teammate and friend, In-Ho, as we sat outside Jake's Saloon after our basketball game with drinks and what turned out to be disgusting chicken and mango spring rolls.


"I'm not sure. We might regret it in the morning," he replied, as we both laughed.


"It's always that last one that kills you, right?" I say. "But... I think we should totally do it."


"Yeah, we can handle it," he agreed. "What's one more?"


"OK," I said, turning to the waiter. "Can we have another Coke and one more cranberry juice?"


"I'm almost embarrassed that we ordered that," In-Ho said after the waiter walked away.


"Who the hell cares?" I replied. "You're still recovering from a crazy drunken night yesterday and I don't want to drink alcohol, yet we still wanted to hang out somewhere, so we went to the bar and ordered virgin drinks. It's not like you HAVE to drink alcohol when you go to the bar. We're still drinking. Look... [I take a long swig of my juice from a straw] I'm drinking right now!"


"Yeah but it's not the same," he said. "Bars are kinda lame without alcohol."


"You know what?" I said. "You're kinda right. Apparently bars need alcohol so people will go to them. Because now I'm noticing how dingy this place is. But I still like hanging out with you."

"Yeah," he replied. "Me too so I guess it's OK."

We will never forget

I've more fully felt the tragedy of 9/11 since moving to the city where it all happened.

There are memorials set up all around the city. Some are small clusters of candles and flowers around a photo that any passers-by can see. Others make a huge statement to those who don't even need to be in the immediate vicinity.

For the past nine years, the Municipal Art Society has paid tribute to those who died on 9/11 by projecting two beams of light into the sky where the Twin Towers once stood.

I live four miles away from downtown, yet was still able to clearly see the rays from my rooftop, which, according to Time Out New York magazine, are the strongest shafts of light ever projected from Earth into the night sky. The beams are illuminated by more than 40 xenon light bulbs and evoke the shape and orientation of the towers that were a prominent part of lower Manhattan.

Also in the photo, you'll see the Empire State Building to the left, which changes color every night and is appropriately lit up in red, white, and blue.

With all these amazing commemorations, we can never forget.

Yep - I train my dog to bite anything wearing scarlett or gray

Anyone who knows me well - or knows me at all, really - knows that I love my T-shirts.

I have an entire drawer that, when opened, throws up T-shirts that I wear regularly. There's also another drawer for T-shirts that I don't generally wear unless it's to bed or the gym, but yet can't get rid of, like my high school honor society T-shirt (with the slogan "Don't sweat the petty things, don't pet the sweaty things" on the back. Advice still applicable today.), my too-big Race For The Cure T-shirt, and my Blade Blazers T-shirt from my time on The Blade's volleyball team (yes, there was one for a very short, yet significant, time).

There are two blue T-shirts and one gray one in particular that are in the "wear regularly" drawer, but are about to get demoted to the "wear to bed or only at home" drawer. They are, unfortunately, three of my most favorite T-shirts because they're comfy, I love the colors, and they remind me of home.

They're my Michigan shirts.

One navy blue shirt has the yellow words "Michigan" splashed across the chest, the second has a big block M on the front and the gray one has the words "Michigan Wrestling" on the front and "Big Ten" on the back (I dated a wrestler for awhile).

And it's by sheer annoyance that I am thinking of retiring these shirts from my regular rotation. And that's because I get harassed Every. Single. Time. I wear these shirts. Literally harassed.

Here's a sample of the things I've heard in the past few weeks:

"Michigan SUCKS!"

"We'll see if you love Michigan in November."


"Michigan SUCKS!"

"Michigan? Really? Yuck."

"Ohio State, baby!"


"MICHIGAN SUCKS!!!"

Keep in mind that I am not wearing this shirt in Columbus, Ohio, where I would actually expect to get harassed (and have beer bottles thrown at my head, which is what happened the one and only time I went to the Ohio State/Michigan game at The Horseshoe).

I am wearing this shirt when running errands or going to work or hanging out with my friends in New York City. Why must Ohio State fans feel the need to comment on the fabric I choose to put over my head that makes me comfortable and happy? It's not like I am wearing a pro-KKK or terrorist T-shirt or something equally as offensive against Americans or a particular race or religion. It's just a particular football team I happen to like.

When this happens, I generally ignore the comments, because there is no use shouting a comeback to a complete stranger just because he or she (I've gotten it from both) doesn't like the emblem on my chest.

Besides, I'm better than that. Why should it be any of my business if Joe Schmo off the street chooses to spend his Saturday afternoons cheering for Ohio State or Michigan State or [insert college football team here]? And why do these Ohio State fans feel the need to make the college football team that I cheer for their business?

But this trend really took a weird turn on Saturday. Before the first Michigan game of the season, Brent took one look at Chloe and asked why in the world she was wearing a pink bandanna when she has a Michigan one. So because Michigan college football is probably one of Brent's top five favorite things of all time, I of course dug it out and put it on her so our Michigan dog could sit on the couch with us and watch Michigan trounce Connecticut.

And of course I thought nothing of the bandanna that I chose to put on my dog when I hooked her to her leash and took her outside to pee.

As we were coming back to the building, we passed a couple and the woman took one look at Chloe and said, "Michigan... really? Groooooooooss."

My usual response was to ignore this comment as we walked past this couple toward our two sets of elevators. They walked into one elevator as the one nearest to me was opening, so I stepped into this second elevator with Chloe.

Apparently, they didn't realize that their elevator was going down instead of up, so they stepped out of the elevator and the guy walked into the one I was in with Chloe. Just before the doors closed, he poked his head out of the elevator, said "Are you coming?" to his companion and started laughing as he stepped back into the elevator.

It was then that he turned to me and said, "Sorry. Ohio State fans... you know."

Yes, I do know that die-hard fans of any kind can be ridiculous, but REALLY? You seriously didn't want to even SHARE AN ELEVATOR FOR FIVE SECONDS WITH A MICHIGAN FAN??? What was I going to do - sick my dog on you for cheering for a different team than me??? Come on.

I guess Michigan fans are just more rational... and definitely more classy. Or maybe that's just me.