As with many Southern girls, I tend to get a little excited when I'm hosting an event. And by excited, I mean bat shit crazy. We were expecting about 10 people and we tend to make new friends as the drinking day goes on (I'm nothing if not pathologically friendly), so I figured I'd bump up the numbers a little. This is what I considered a reasonable amount of food & drinks to take with us to the game:
- 72 Bud Light
- 24 Corona Light
- 24 Mike's Hard Lemonade
- 12 Smirnoff Ice
- 2 Jugs Margaritas
- 2 bottles of Champagne for mimosas
- 1.5 liter bottle of Ketel One vodka
- Water, cranberry juice, orange juice, assorted soft drinks
- Sliced limes and oranges
- 12 Beef Tenderloin sandwiches (Jeff grilled the steaks the night before - he's the best!)
- 24 Ham & Cheese mini-sandwiches
- 15 chicken salad croissants
- Mustard, mayonnaise, horseradish sauce
- Cheese tray with crackers & beef summer sausage
- Assorted chips, brownies and cookies
- 1 pound Twizzlers (it's a family tradition)
- And no tailgate is complete without Advil and antacids, so I threw those in there as well.
This was after my first beer run (before I decided it wasn't nearly enough).
For those of you who are math-impaired, that's 108 beers alone. Oh, WHAT!?! It's not like that's a lot. Quit judging me. And I'd like to mention that two different guests asked if I had any wine, so obviously I was understocked.
I knew three of these people prior to Saturday. What can I say? Strangers love me!
You may think that it seems excessive, but here's my Post-Tailgate Booze Inventory: 10 Corona Light, 1/2 jug Margaritas, 1 bottle champagne, 6 Mikes' Hard Lemonade, 2 Smirnoff Ice and half the vodka (although I think a handful of Bud Light may be left in Scott's cooler). I freaking love my peeps! I'm pretty sure we could have wiped out the entire supply, but I quit drinking at 6 p.m. to make sure I'd be able to drive home at midnight.
This is my Auburn pal Chappell and my new friend Madison.
Chappell claims we haven't seen each other for 20 years,
but I don't see how that can be true since I'm only 25 years old.
In other news, the battle with my arch-nemesis, the port-a-potty, continues to go in my favor. I was able to "hold it" from 11:00 a.m. when I left my house until 6:45 p.m. when we entered the game. I'm sure my bladder is eventually going to rebel, but for now...#winning!
Tomorrow's blog post will feature: enjoying stadium seating two rows behind a drunken butt flasher, pom-pom throwing fistfights, Jimmy Buffet's unfortunate twin, how beer makes a separation of 20 years feel more like 20 minutes, and why, even with a couple of hundred of dollars of food on the table, a free Chick-fil-A sandwich is irresistible (even though I really hate their politics).