Tag Archives: Florida Gators

The Swamp, Our Awesome Alumni, & $600+ Million in Awards Last Year: Why UF Trumps USC’s Cocks, Pork, & Pyrotechnics

May
29
2012
by Elle Grant | 2 Comments

My loyalty was challenged this past weekend. You see, my sister just started grad school at the University of South Carolina. I went to visit her, as sisters do when their sisters move to a strange, new place alone. (I am, however, living vicariously through her in this situation. What I would give to be alone some days…Out on the deck, just me, some sweet tea, and that little old lizard doing that thing with his neck. Sweet serenity.)

Sign this girl up!

While I have been to Columbia for away games, I’ve never actually wandered around USC’s campus. You see, their stadium is far, far away (relatively speaking – it’s a hike, even when you’re sober…) from their actual campus.

Trying to find their stadium is a bit like this. (Okay, so that's a *slight* exaggeration.)

While my sister was giving me “the tour,” I was forced to come to terms with a few things. I realized (gasp) UF may not actually be the best in every, single, itty bitty category there is as far as colleges go.

I kid you not. This realization was uncomfortable. I mean, genuinely, sincerely, from the pit of my stomach, uncomfortable. Had I been living a lie all these years? No. But this realization did have me taking inventory.

USC’s “Horseshoe” puts the Plaza of the Americas to shame with its humongous space of soft, green grass and towering Oaks (their campus has about a fifty year head start on ours).  And they’re within biking distance to some of the best barbeque and collards I’ve ever had in my entire life. No, really.

BBQ pulled pork. Served in a paper basket. Add some collards, pepper sauce, and sweet tea. Yet another reason I love the south...

Oh, and they have fireworks at their stadium. (That’s a bit irritating when you’re losing to them in football. It sucks to lose. It sucks to lose even worse when the loss is celebrated by a colorful display of explosive pyrotechnics.) And, *sigh*, they have the Ol’ Ball Coach.  While I whole heartedly like Muschamp (partially because he reminds me of Spurrier – he’s got some visor-throwing abilities, no doubt), I love, like L.O.V.E. love, Spurrier. “Once a Gator, Always a Gator” kept me warm at night this past weekend.

Yeah. I think he can get a little fired up like Spurrier...

That, however, is it. UF ranks superior in every other category I could think of, and then some, I’m sure. Our campus has towering Oaks, too…next to attractively designed buildings, no matter the decade of creation. (On USC’s campus, it’s very apparent which buildings were built in which decade. “And just what geometric shape is that building trying to embody?”) UF’s architecture is classic.

Just one of the many examples...

Our stadium is right on campus, and just one crosswalk away, we have a large selection of bars and restaurants (Dad, don’t mind the order there…). The girls are hotter (and smarter). The boys are smarter (and with Southern accents, they’d be just as hot as those South Carolinian boys).

Packed full of smart, fun, beautiful people.

Not to mention the academics and research. UF and the brilliant people who work and study there are responsible for a rather large (cough, cough) number of discoveries and inventions including big-time cancer research and treatment, alternative energy sources (ethanol, nuclear, and solar energy), and of course, Gatorade. Don’t believe me? UF received over $619 million in research awards for the 2010-2011 year. (My mom and 3rd Dad are responsible for some of that – Love you guys!) Over 600 million bucks? Not bad, if I do say so myself.

My sweet mom and Dad 3 goofing off when they're not in their labs working to make UF even more awesome. Adorable, aren't they? They're even more adorable in person...and when they're looking in the right direction when it comes to picture time...

Our list of alumni is impressive, too.  The inventor of the digital computer (John Atanasoff), best-selling novelists (Michael Connelly, Carl Hiassen, and one day, me, just to name a few), governors (including Bob Graham), two Nobel Prize winners, three NASA astronauts, musicians with voices like honey (Easton Corbin), and dozens of athletes in the pros (Tim Tebow, Jack Youngblood, Emmitt Smith, Andre Caldwell, Jarvis Moss, Fred Taylor…the list goes on, and we haven’t even gotten past football…Oh!  And they’re all smart, too!) are all alumni.  (There are, of course, several UF alum family members of mine (7 people, 8 degrees (B.A.’s, M.A.’s, and M.D.’s)) who are famous for their own reasons…Have you heard my dad’s play by play of his Saturday morning golf games?…)

As if we could have too many pictures of him popping up on this site...

There are about a gazillion other things UF is great for, but I’ll spare you the rest. This is right about the breaking point when my non-Gator loved ones stop reading (Hi Renee! Love you! Please give the little peanut a hug and head-kiss for me!).

My point is, while I had a moment of panic this weekend, it turns out that, yeah, UF’s more awesome. Besides, we have a way better mascot.  As my sister rightly noted, anyone other than a 12 year old boy would rather say, “Go Gators!” than “Go Cocks!”  Just sayin’.

 

**Photos courtesy of ufl.edu, bleacherreport.com, football.ballparks.com, myrecipes.com, kitchengeeking.com, exitofhumanity.com, and floridaadventuring.com.

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Bayshore Boulevard: The Perfect Place to Settle Down…and Watch Beautiful People Sweat

May
19
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Tampa is a great city. Fantastic weather. Nice scenery.  And its very own hockey team. Tampa also boasts the longest continuous sidewalk in the world:  Bayshore Boulevard.  Bayshore’s sidewalk is 4.5 miles long, 10 feet wide, and covered with beautiful people.  Sweating.

My sister loves this area so much that she fantasizes we will meet orphan brothers (the “orphan” part makes family holidays a breeze), move to Hyde Park, live a few streets away from our parents (easy access to loyal babysitters), and have beautiful children that will grow up to be cousin-best friends.  Her Plan B includes one of us marrying Tim Tebow and the other marrying a doctor…Medical advice will only be a phone call away.  Her active imagination is one of her many fabulous qualities.  (Gentlemen, she’s a keeper, and I can put in a good word for you…)

To avoid looking like a complete stalker, I refrained from taking photographs of too many people.  (I simply admired them from behind my lens, too busy gawking silently to snap the shutter.)  Instead, here are just a few images of this classic Tampa Bay landmark:

So, while we may never live here (again) or get to marry a Gator quarterback, the Big Guy Upstairs certainly ensures the scenery is worth the trip.

 

 

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Chicago: The Land of Hot Dogs, Deep Dish Pizzas, Tulips on the Streets, and a Lake Like the Ocean

May
11
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Chicago is known for many things.  Wind.  Lots of wind, for one thing.  Layer upon layer of cheese and meat and more cheese in their deep dish pizzas.  Pickles and tomatoes on their hot dogs.  The L train.  Fantastic shopping on The Magnificent Mile.  And large bodies of water.  If I wasn’t familiar with the geography of Illinois, I would be hard pressed not to think Lake Michigan was the ocean.

Because I am a travel and photography lover (it’s more like “addict,” but hey, you say “tomato,” I say “tomato”), I took “a few” (it’s more like “400”) pictures while I was there.  You can find some of those photographs in our Cityscapes, Odds and Ends, and Wild Things galleries.  Without further ado, however, here are just “a few” (literally) from this most recent adventure:

Navy Pier

 

I do, too!

 

More Kindred Spirits

 

Tulips on the sidewalk

Tulips in the city

And there you have it.  Now we’re back to the land of sunshine, real beaches, and the Florida Gators.  Home Sweet Home.

 

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Graduation: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life…That’ll be Tomorrow, Too…And the Next Day After That, etc…

May
04
2012
by Elle Grant | 2 Comments

Today marks a significant milestone in our family. Today, two of my sisters will graduate from the University of Florida. The family tradition continues.

Home Sweet Home

While flying home from Chicago, I got to thinking about things I wish I had known when I graduated. And then I made a list. (Shocker.) On a barf bag. (Oh, the irony…)

For "Motion Discomfort" *and* Note Taking

I will share this advice, advice in which my sisters have already heard a dozen times and which will most likely pass through one ear and out the other as quickly as they dismiss shoes, dresses, and boys. On to the next. However, just in case they happen to feel sentimental at any point, here it is:

1. You can always change your mind. Graduation marks a turning point with endings and new beginnings. That can feel daunting, I know. I’ve been there. We all have in one way or another. The good news is you can change your mind. Whatever you decide, the world will still be here tomorrow, we will still love you, and your feet will still be big. So go ahead. Make a decision. It will all be fine.

It will all be okay. I promise.

2.  There are 365 days in a year. And you have roughly 50+ years ahead of you. That’s about 18,250 days left in your life. And, of course, there are 24 hours in each of those 18,000+ days. That’s about 438,000 hours… My point? You have plenty of time. Lots and lots of glorious time. Enjoy it. I mean, don’t just sit on the couch eating bon bons, but certainly don’t fret about taking a detour or four while you’re on your way.

Plenty of Time

3.  It’s okay to make mistakes. Thanks to Adam and Eve, we’re not perfect. Try not to let the worry of making mistakes keep your feet stuck in the sand. The water is warm. I promise.

"Oops. Let's try that again," is perfectly acceptable.

4.  Travel. Take me with you. There’s a great big ol’ world out there with lots to see. Take some time to see it.

Sign this girl up, please...

5.  Come home to visit.  Tell mom I said hi.

The "other" Home Sweet Home

6.  Remember, you are loved. Sure, love doesn’t pay the bills, but it certainly helps comfort you when the first six job interviews don’t pan out so well. There’s a lot to be said for that much love. I’ll spare you. But just know, you are so very loved.

You're loved. Big time.

So, while graduation may seem a little scary,  it really is going to be fine.  I promise.  You survived (not only growing up with our parents…but also everything else…). You’re well prepared, and great, big, new adventures await you.  Go get ’em.  *And the crowd goes wild as they make their way in the world*

 

**Photos courtesy of starkoutloud.com, nicvee.blogspot.com, fieldandstream.com, toptravellists.net, jewelersfastforward.com, unrad.info, and tickets4sports.com.

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Bigger Discounts, Better Stories, & Being Santa on Random Tuesdays: Why Getting Older Isn’t All that Bad

Apr
20
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “The years teach much which the days never knew.”  Isn’t it strange how the little bits and pieces don’t seem to have a big impact, but when you add them all together, the important stuff happens.  Eggs, ink, flour, paper.  Alone, they’re nothing special.  Together, they’re a delicious, hand-held dessert with wisdom packaged inside.  And so it is with life.

My favorite dessert.

Recently, while having breakfast with one of my college roommates (we’ll call her Rachel), it occurred to me that one of the great things about becoming an adult is that you can maintain close friendships even if you don’t see each other or talk all that often.  I’ve found for many of my friends, we simply pick back up right where we left off.  It’s as if the days and months (and sometimes years) slide away into nothingness, and we’re right back in the dorms or at the old apartment.

Tales of dorm-made strawberry margaritas spilling on my laptop (that was a difficult one to explain to my father…) and going for a run every day at the same time in hopes of seeing that hot guy with the UF cap on warmed us up for the topics to come.

Give him a haircut and a UF baseball cap, and you'll get the idea.

Rachel has an adorable son who looks exactly like his father.  Apparently he is finally talking now (and actually making sense).   Rachel was sharing how having a young child in the house completely changes your life.  “And you know what else?” she said.  “Don’t buy good furniture until your kids are older.  To be safe, maybe wait until they graduate from high school and actually move out of the house.”  For a girl whose only child at the moment is a 6 year old cat named Jack, this advice seemed a little daunting.

“Just the other day, P came in the room looking a little sheepish,” Rachel elaborated.  Sheepish.  For a boy who is potty training at the moment.  That could be scary.  “I asked him what was wrong.  All of sudden, two crocodile tears ran down his cheeks and he told me, ‘Mommy, my stomach came out of my mouth.’  Sure enough, I go into the living room, and there’s little boy vomit all over my couch.  *Sigh* The joys of motherhood.”

Oh, P, one day, when you get older, we’ll swap stories.  You are not alone, sweet boy.  The number of times my stomach came out of my mouth as a kid is quite remarkable.  One day.

Your stomach just came out of your mouth? Yeah. I know the feeling.

After spending some time with Rachel, it got me thinking about the joys of getting older.  I’m at the age now where all of my friends are lamenting the fact that the years keep ticking by and they’re simply not ready.  (I admit, I often contribute to these conversations.)  But after my date with Rachel, I realized getting older isn’t that bad.  Here are a few reasons why:

6.  People tend to do the right thing more often.  While the stereotype is that people, especially men, get grumpier with time (and I have a friend who admits he’s quite ornery about certain topics just because he’s older and has that excuse), right and wrong seem to become clearer.  Sure, children know right from wrong from a very early age; sometimes, however, they follow the crowd and screw up.  As you get older, the crowd seems less important.  And that can be a very good thing.

"A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval." ~Mark Twain

5.  People can get away with more.  Ever give your four year old little sister bubble gum?  What happens?  I’ll tell you what happens.  All hell breaks loose when she manages to smear it all over the backseat of the car.  What happens when an old person gives a four year old bubble gum?  Nothing.  Old people can do no wrong when it comes to young children.  It’s like getting to be Santa Claus on some random Tuesday afternoon, and then again two days later, and then again on Sunday after church.

What trouble looks like right before it happens...

Along those same lines…

4.  Children are fascinated by old people.  Once the fear of suspenders and gigantic glasses wears off, children can’t get enough of old people.  Ever seen a five year old get up close and personal with an old person?  Two soft, chubby little hands go right to the soft, wrinkled, worn-down cheeks and those hands push and poke and smoosh up and down.  I look forward to having my cheeks smooshed when that day comes.

So curious...both him and the kids.

3.  Discounts.  What’s better than a student discount?  A senior discount.  Apparently there are big perks at the tire place and the movie theater for making it to old age.

Gotta love 'em.

2.  Your stories get better.  Ever listen to a six year old tell a story?  Did you understand that?  Something about a dog and an Easter egg?  Yeah, me neither.  Ever listen to a sixteen year old tell a story?  It’s almost painful how many times “like” and “you know?” appear.  Ever listen to a seventy-six year old tell a story?  Oh, man.  They’re good.  Really good.  And “Once upon a time, when I was a young man” is often the perfect beginning.

Sometimes those stories plant the seeds for big dreams.

1.  You’re that much closer to heaven.  And heaven is where you get to meet up with your old dogs and your old grandparents.   I’m not exactly sure what heaven looks like, but from what I can tell, it’s gotta be good.

All that's missing is the people, the pets, and the picnic.

So while there are a few disappointments at getting older (I’m sure not being able to do a cartwheel anymore will be devastating to me), the good outweighs the bad.  And because I’m a big fan of not being dead, I’ll take as many years of old age as The Big Guy Upstairs is willing to give me.

 

**Photos courtesy of fasttrackfundraising.com, collegecandy.com, tanakamusic.com, brucemctague.com, flickr.com, ease1.com, newsfeed.time.com, studentsforliberty.org, and elephantjournal.com.

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Tabasco, Tebow, & Television: No Matter What, Laughter Sure Sounds the Same in Any Language

Mar
18
2012
by Elle Grant | 1 Comment

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that, well, I’m a stalker. Not a creepy-call-the-cops kind of stalker. The other kind. The kind where I can’t seem to go anywhere without wanting to look and watch people do whatever it is they do in an endearing, non-creepy kind of way. People are fascinating, really.

An innocent person being stalked...Thanks Brianna!

And, of course…

A stalker...one of the endearing kind...and yes. I'm in a dress. In the grass. Smiling. What can I say?

It all started in Spain. In a taxi. On a ride from the airport. A ride in which I thought I was going to die. After skirting death for the third time, thoughts of “Oh, crap, that’s a big bus. And this is a small taxi. Damn Europeans and their need for teeny, tiny showers and streets and automobiles,” running through my brain, I had an epiphany.

Every time I ride in a cab, I seem to have an “Oh my God, we’re going to die” moment. At least once. Every time. Now granted, I don’t ride in cabs very often, but when I do, the experiences share some scary similarities. As I’m still here, apparently The Big Guy Upstairs thinks I still have some things left to do here on Earth. **Side note to The Big Guy:  I know, I know. I’m working on it.  It would help if I got a little cooperation down here. Just sayin’.**

From the fear-inducing cab drivers, I couldn’t help but notice simalarities in all the other people we came across, too. As we wandered through Spain and Portugal on foot, by train, and by plane, I saw:

Grumpy old men. 

Grumpy yet endearing.

Tiny old women.

This little lady is a nun. So sweet, bless her heart.

Happy couples.

Happy couples sharing their affection for each other with the world.

Still working on what the 21 could mean.

People napping.

People attempting to heal other people.

People reading.

People looking perplexed at what they’re reading.

People bonding over beers.

People putting on a good front.

More people napping.

Men and women on different pages.

People practicing their Spanish.

Two Lovely Ladies immediately after a total of 15 hours on a plane, one scary cab ride, and about six blocks of walking with luggage in tow. At least one of them is a Florida fan. And oh, look. She's got Post-its. Imagine that.

And Florida grads showing their love all over the world. 

UF Love in Lisbon

After all that, I came to realize, even though we’re all different, with different brains and different families and different hair colors (natural or salon-assisted), we, people that is, are quite similar. When we’re happy, you can tell. (After all, laughter sounds the same in any language.) When we’re upset, you can tell. (So does yelling…she may have been speaking in Portuguese, but boy, that guy in the red coat was getting a lashing.) When we’re thinking, you can tell. (Eyes up to the sky, forehead wrinkled ring a bell?)

So, while we all have our differences (you like Tabasco, I prefer Crystal; you like Tebow because he’s hot, I love him because he’s a Gator; you like TV for zombie shows, I like TV for away games; you live in Florida because it’s better than New York, I live in Florida for the sunshine, etc.), we’re all fundamentally the same. We have hopes. We have insecurities. We have good intentions. We have crazy relatives, and baggage (the carry on and emotional kinds), and better driving abilities than almost everyone else. We’re simply kindred spirits. And in a world as big and busy as we live in, it’s kind of nice to know someone knows just how you feel.

 

 

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What’s Love Got to do With It? Almost Everything: Why the 14th is Just as Good as Every Other Day of the Year

Feb
14
2012
by Elle Grant | 1 Comment
I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.  Now, before you start making assumptions, let me clear a few things up.  I don’t *not* celebrate Valentine’s Day for lack of a willing and able other half.  Even when I wore my hair in pigtails and had to stand on my tippy toes to ride Space Mountain, I had my fair share of “Valentines.”

That extra inch or two will take you places...and tippy toes are extremely effective...

In Kindergarten, it was Patrick. He was also my first kiss. Well, of the “Let’s run behind the tree, and I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind. Then there was James. Sweet James. Benji, Jeff, and Paul got me through elementary school. There was David in middle school. Then Mike, and Mike again, and Mike again, oh for about eight years. Then there was someone who will remain nameless in order to squash any urges I may have to create clever pseudonyms that might not be too complimentary.  He was around for too many V-days.

"Lauren and Patrick Sittin' in a Tree..." Or a sandbox...

So, there have been opportunities to celebrate.  I just chose not to.  (Those in my life will vouch for this fact.  Many a boyfriend have been grateful for my wallflower ways when it comes to V-day.)

Some people avoid Valentine’s Day because they think it’s become a Hallmark holiday. I can see that. However, I’m all for commerce and capitalism and people having an extra day to buy their loved ones presents. I don’t *not* celebrate it because it’s commercialized.  If people want to have an excuse to buy chocolates and cards and big “I love you!” balloons, who am I to judge? Have at it. Keep our economy chugging along, please.

Sure, Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about love, but for those that don’t have an other half, the day can be disappointing. Having always had at least one friend who feels that way this time of year, I can attest to the fact that this type of disappointment, like any other I suppose, is not fun. And so, for solidarity to my friends, I let February 14th pass by just like any other day.

Now Love, that’s a whole different story.  Love is what makes the world go ‘round, right?  Well, love and ambition and The Big Guy Upstairs and that whole earth orbiting the sun and spinning on its axis thing. That, too. While many of us hope for life-long love, marrying the person of our dreams, having beautiful and intelligent children with that person, and then growing old and dancing to Etta James and doing the Electric Slide on our 50th wedding anniversary, it doesn’t always work out that way.

My mother, God love her, is on her third husband.  I’m not quite sure how these men perform in the “Husband” department, but all three of the men she married have been great dads to me.  She knows how to pick good fathers, that’s for sure.  (And they’re all Gators, so clearly she has good taste.)  Because my mother has had at least three Great Loves in her life, we now have a blended family, and while it’s not “happily-ever-after love” the first (or second) time around, it’s still not half bad.  Here’s why:

1. Extra Family Members.  Because my mom and dad broke up, I now have a lovely (and hilarious) step-mom, a lovely (and kind) 2nd dad, a lovely (and generous) 2nd step-mom who is married to my 2nd dad (and her super fun daughter/my most recent sisterly addition), and three lovely (beautiful, smart, and funny) sisters.  (We’re mutt sisters, sharing one parent by blood and one parent by love.)  A little confusing, I’m aware, and not too pretty on paper, but most certainly entertaining in real life.

Now that my mom’s on to her third husband, I now have *another* great dad (who likes to hunt and fish and claims he’s going to take me one day soon…cough, cough…Mike?  You reading this?) and a brother and sister-in-law (who live in England!)…and as of April of this year, I’ll be an aunt.  I’m pretty sure Baby Gator cheerleading outfits look just as cute in England as they do in Florida.

Baby Gators in England? Absolutely!

And because all these husbands have sisters and brothers, I also have a bunch of fun aunts and uncles and extra grandparents and cousins.  Yes, the family tree is huge and gnarly, but it sure does make things interesting, especially around the holidays…which brings me to my next point…

2. Extra Celebrations.  Up until about the age of 23, birthdays are really fun.  Getting to celebrate your birthday multiple times with your various families, and then again with your friends, makes for a busy birthday month.  Busy and fun and lucrative.

Christmas?  Just as good.  Not only do you get (and give) extra presents, you get extra food, too.  Grant family Christmases are classic for holiday dinners, but the rest of the families certainly know how to cook a feast.  (And when all the families (ex’s and current spouses, etc.) get together, which has happened countless times in my life, we can feed an army.)

Sure, there are extra celebrations (birthdays, graduations, getting accepted into UF parties, etc.) for everyone else, too. These can be detrimental to my pocketbook (and my shoe and travel fund); however, the good times make it all worth it.  At all these events, memories are made and stories are spun.  The history of our good times as a blended family grows longer with each event.

3. Independence.  Independence goes right along with extra celebrations.  Because I come from a fractured family, I am used to being passed around the state (and country) for family gatherings.  I am not traumatized by not being with a certain family member for a certain holiday, and they are not traumatized by me not being there.  We all know we’ll get around to celebrating sooner or later.  And because I’m all about delayed gratification, “sooner or later” works out perfectly.  While I certainly admire families who *must* be together during the holidays, I find it comforting to know anticipation replaces disappointment in my family when it comes to absences around those times of year.

4. Love.  I feel very loved.  All the time.

5. A Good Example.  While many divorces end in life-long resentments, I know nothing about that.  My parents, all of them, have done an amazing job of being responsible, respectful, quality human beings.  All the husbands (current and ex’s) get along and share “Maria” jokes, and all the wives (current and ex’s) get along and share pointers.

I know not of bitter fights and angry battles.  I know only of adults behaving like, well, adults.  Because of this, I have seen how it’s done and I know it is possible, this life of a happy, blended family.  And while one day I hope to have one, just one, husband, I know that good can come from situations other than a traditional “happily ever after.”

My Family Tree: An example of (and heavy on the) Love...and all that it entails.

So, while I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, I do celebrate love. Lots of it. And with all the various family members I have, with all of their various characteristics, I feel as if I’m qualified to do so. 365 days a year.

 

**Photos courtesy of scoop.it, zazzle.com, community.trendmicro.com, firebellymarketing.com, footballfanatics.com, and twentytwowords.com.

 

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Stats vs. Sweet Talk: Translating the Conversational Gap Between Men, Women, and Word Counts

Feb
05
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

An excerpt from earlier:

Woman:  I’m super excited about the Super Bowl.  It’s going to be so much fun.  We’re having a party, and a bunch of people I haven’t seen in a long time are coming.  And man, Joe, have you met Joe?  Anyway, Joe makes these amazing barbecue ribs.  Food, fun, football.  So excited!  **claps hands enthusiastically and smiles as if verbalizing her excitement wasn’t enough**

Man:  Who you rooting for?

Woman:  Okay, so don’t judge…I’m torn.  I don’t love the Patriots, but I really want our Gators to kick some ass in the NFL.  If I don’t care about the game, though, I’ll root for the underdog.  How about you?

Man:  Pats for the Gators.

Woman:  **Stunned Silence**  Oh.  Yeah, that’s what I meant to say.

(This could be applied to multiple scenarios...And *you,* you know who you are...)

It took the man four words to essentially say the same thing as the woman (who will remain nameless) who used about ten times that.  (Question:  How do you know Lauren Grant is referencing herself in the third person?  Answer:  She tells you the woman in question will remain nameless and then proceeds to give herself away.  Highly effective.)

This got me thinking.  Why is it that the majority of (straight) men I know are quite concise (or “Linguistically Efficient” as one friend calls it), while the majority of women I know aren’t?

Let’s start at the beginning.  Words.  A word, by definition, is a “principal carrier of meaning.”  We, as people, need these principal carriers of meaning to express our thoughts.

Okay, please humor me here.  Stop for a minute.  Don’t say anything.  Don’t read anything.  Just sit there and think.

**waits patiently for the roughly three seconds you’ll probably think for before moving on**

What did you think about?  Your grocery list?  How you need to call your mother?  What time does the game start?  Crap, you forgot to get the dry cleaning *again*?  What *is* her point, anyway?  All those things were expressed in words.  We need them.

So, logically speaking, because thoughts are expressed in words, and women seem to use more words, would it be fair to say that women think more than men?  At least with their brains?

The stereotype is, of course, that men tend to think with an appendage on the lower half of their bodies, and that appendage, while fabulous in its own right, doesn’t usually say much.  Sure, it may make gestures or have sporadic outbursts, but overall, it’s not super talkative.

Or, could it be that men just have better filters than women?  Maybe women say pretty much everything that comes to mind, while men refrain from speaking unless it’s absolutely necessary.  You never know, they might need that last breath of air in a minute, and they don’t want to waste it on complimenting your cleavage.

I know a man, quite wonderful really, who, when explaining his brevity, says “you can’t stick your foot in your mouth if it’s not open.”  Fine logic there…but if you don’t speak up, chances are someone else will.  (Plus, if you leave it up to women, we’re quite creative, really.  To us, your silence could mean any number of things…)

Speak up, Charlie Brown...

Well, I did a little research.  Turns out, men talk just as much as women.  Surprising, right?

Here’s how:  Men tend to focus on specific information (Dude, that’s the fifth three pointer he’s had in the last two minutes!), and women tend to be more supportive with their speech (Oh honey, I know just how you feel – that Ryan Reynolds really does a number on me…).  Plus, men traditionally talk more at work (you know, that whole dominance, Alpha Male thing), while women talk more in social situations (you know, that whole touchy feely “let’s be friends” thing).

I really just wanted an excuse to put Ryan Reynolds up here...

So, there you have it.  Men might take the cake when it comes to balding or slam dunking a basketball, and women might win out when it comes to wearing a bikini or graduating on time.  However, when it comes to speech (she finally concludes 700 words later…), well, we’re just about even.

 

**Photos courtesy of MBpopart.com, YourDiscovery.com, Kurzweilai.net, 10MinutesofBrilliance.com, WeHeartIt.com, and AskMen.com

 

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“You Sure do Make Team Spirit Look Good, Darlin'”: Why Sporting Your Team Colors Makes for a Good Time…

Jan
29
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

A guy walks into a bar wearing a Florida hat.  He sees a Florida State fan, a pastor, and about 350 other people…

There are many occasions to sport your favorite team’s colors.  An obvious choice is on game day.  “Wear your colors to work” day is a good one. Tuesday. Yeah. Tuesday works, too. This past weekend I discovered another occasion to sport your colors:  A trip to the bar.

This weekend, I had the pleasure of partaking in the festivities of Gasparilla and all the fun-filled debauchery that entails. (Um, and yes. My sister brings her own koozie to bars. She seems to be learning a little more than just Latin at UF…)

Out of the purse...and onto the bottle...

Part of my tasteful ensemble included my Florida hat.  I was celebrating our win over Mississippi State in basketball, and it seemed fitting for a Saturday.  Little did I know my hat would be the catalyst for one of the most fun nights of my Gasparilla-celebrating career.

I just love this hat.

Because of that hat, I was hit on by a 41 year old Canadian who was smoking pot in line while waiting to get into the bar (thanks again for my sister’s and my cover!), Patrick, a Georgia native whose age seemed to range from 18-35 depending on the song played by the band (thanks again for the tasty beverages for me and my friends!); the Florida State fan sporting an unattractive gold cap and an equally unattractive garnet shirt; the other Florida State fan who saw us once while waiting in traffic and then again six hours later at the bar (“Hey, you’re the girl we saw on Tampa St.!  You drive a 4Runner, right?  You’re still cute and your hat still sucks.”); the three guys waiting in line for the bathroom (the first who gave me a high five, the second who tapped my Florida-team-spirit clad head, and the third who, as I walked by, grabbed, well, I’ll spare you the details); the fun guy in the #15 jersey who Tebowed every time the band played a song by Van Halen or Rick Springfield; about twelve other random people who all seemed lovely and who mostly loved my hat; and finally, a pastor…or so he said.  All these details can be verified by my lovely friends (and Michael, thanks again for playing defense for us when you weren’t playing offense for yourself).

It made for an interesting night.  And a fabulous topic of conversation over Sunday Funday (a.k.a. Recovery Sunday after a night like last night).  We got to thinking about why a hat could have such an effect on so many people.  Here’s what we came up with:

Approachability.  Chances are a girl wearing a baseball cap isn’t a girl who spent three hours getting ready, and therefore will spend all of three seconds rolling her eyes at you.  No.  A girl wearing a baseball cap implies easy going, friendly, down to earth.  *brushes imaginary dirt of her shoulder* (Thanks Jay Z.)

Loyalty.  A girl sporting colors like orange and blue after a football season like our most recent one is loyal.  Fair weather fan?  Nah.  She’s in it for the long haul.  Good for her.  Good for you.

Pick Up Line Central.  The options are endless. “How ‘bout them Gators?” “How ‘bout that Tim Tebow?”  “Nice hat.” “God, you’re so damn cute, but your hat? That’s gotta go.” “What’s that ‘F’ for?”  “Aren’t you wearing the wrong colors?” “Hey, I have a hat just like that.  It looks better on you, though.”  And my personal favorite:  “You sure do make team spirit look good, darlin’.”  Hook, Line, and Sinker.  Sold to the sweetheart with the Southern accent and sincere smile.

So, if you’re looking for a good time, and it’s sadly not a Saturday in fall, grab your cap and a smile.  I speak from experience here.  (P.S. A short skirt might help, too…)

 

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Tim Tebow: A Quarterback. A Good Christian. A Bad Ass.

Jan
15
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Sick of Tim Tebow yet?  No?  Great!  Please read on:

Sometimes it’s hard to know why people cling to something or someone.  I often wonder what my sister sees, for example, in the men she chooses to date.  My students, too, have me walking around in circles in my brain as to how or where they come up with their paper topics.  The legalization of marijuana, sure, but beauty pageants in prison?  Seriously?

I have friends who seem to wonder the same thing about all the Tebow lovers and/or appreciators out there. Because I got tired of defending the poor guy over and over again (even after his season finished), I figured I would list some of the many reasons Tebow has such a strong following, even if he isn’t necessarily the best quarterback around.

Location.  First, and quite possibly the most obvious, this is the Gator Nation…and sometimes even the Gator World.  (Question:  How do you know Lauren Grant is in heaven in Italy?  Answer:  In addition to the culture, coffee, and beautiful people, she receives shouts of “Go Gators!” when she wears her Gator attire in the country shaped like a boot.)    While Tebow is officially a Bronco now, he was, and in our minds, always will be, a Gator.  So, we root for him.  Wherever he is.

Loyalty.  Along with residing in the Gator Nation, loyalty most certainly comes into play.  Gator fans are fans in all kinds of weather.  And so when the guy is making the critics groan, we stand by him.  He’s done a lot for our program; it only makes sense we support him while he’s in the process of doing a lot for another team sporting good ol’ orange and blue.

Religion.  A touchy subject, indeed.  While you may or may not agree with Tebow’s preference in a higher power, it is quite refreshing to see a pro-athlete passionate about something other than himself.  Some people think he’s insincere; however, those of us who love him know otherwise.  Besides, why on earth would he leave himself open to such ridicule if he didn’t really believe The Big Guy Upstairs was worth thanking?  (And I’m right there with him.)

Heart.  The official dictionary definition of “heart” involves “a hollow pumpkin-like organ of blood circulation…”  The kind the Tin Man didn’t officially have.  Then there’s the other kind.  You know, the combination of passion and boundless enthusiasm.  The blood, sweat, and tears kind.  The kind that has us naive, hopeful optimists trying just one more time, and the kind that inspires five year olds and seventy-five year olds to stand proudly, arm in arm, while singing “We are the boys” after the third quarter, even when the score is not quite where we all want it to be.  (I’ve seen this firsthand.  I know.)  Timmy?  He has both kinds.  And with people like that, the rewards tend to be big, both in their partnerships and their paychecks.

Work Ethic.  The man’s a bad ass.  No doubt about it.  Ever seen Tim Tebow:  Everything in Between?  Oh. My. God.  Chills.  Lots of them.  Any man who puts that much into making himself a better man deserves a pat on the damn back.  And any man who can pull a whole freaking truck up a hill is impressive.  Let us be impressed, please.

Skills.  He has them.  While Tebow’s stats may not be stellar, the guy can play.  He can run.  He can jump.  He. Can. Throw.  Not to mention he handles himself well when it comes right down to it.  Denver against Miami.  Two touchdown passes in the final three minutes of the game with a sweet 2 point conversion.  The Broncos win in overtime.   Denver against Pittsburgh.  Again OT.  This time the Broncos have to win it with the new rules.  One chance.  One opportunity to score before the Steelers get the ball.  And with Tebow, sometimes that’s all it takes.  One pass to one player.  This game it’s Tebow to Thomas.  11 seconds.  80 yards. Game over.

Hope.  Tim Tebow is an underdog.  Like it or not, he does not fit the mold of a stereotypical star NFL quarterback.  He’s been scrutinized and criticized and overlooked.  And yet, here he is, making a name for himself.  Breaking records both on the field and in cyberspace.  (Number one trending topic on Twitter?  Um, yeah, I think people think he’s worth talking about.)  Our culture, while certainly flawed, is an overall optimistic one filled with generous people.  We like miracles.  We like happy endings.  We like stories where the hero, our  underdog, overcomes all obstacles to rescue the princess (or his defense) and saves the day.  What can we say?  Maybe we’re just a bunch of hopeless romantics.  Either way, Tebow’s story offers some good old fashioned hope and some freaking exciting football.

So all you haters out there, that’s fine.  There’s enough of us Tebow lovers to keep each other warm at night.  And don’t worry.  We’ll still be here with open arms when you decide to change your mind.

An All Around Good Guy

*photo courtesy of thesuiteworld.com

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