She's a Tarheel born

I'm surprised AnnaRay wasn't out here crowing about her boyz on the blog this morning. Maybe she was a little worn out from last night's game. She said she was sore. I guess being a fan is a lot harder than I thought.

If she can't be at the game, AnnaRay prefers watch it from home, rather than in a sports bar or a friend's house where she would (A) have to interact with people, and (2) be distracted from the task at hand, (ie. cheering her team on.) She takes this job very seriously. I am not allowed in the t.v. room when the Tarheels are playing. It's just as well, since I find all the yelling a little frightening, (this from the child of a Jewish/Italian home in which yelling was the preferred form of communication.) But I didn't need to be in the room last night to know exactly what was happening. When the stomping shook the walls, Carolina was down; when the cheering rattled the chandelier, Carolina was up. I was a little worried that The Boy might be scarred from the volcaic verbal eruptions, but he seemed to find them HEE-sterical. Frankly, I think he was more dismayed by the fact that the t.v. was playing yet Elmo was not on.

The scariest thing of all, though, was that when the Tarheels won, AnnaRay wept. SHE WEPT. Tears of happiness, she told me. I am disturbed.