Pretty Southern

Category: Opinion

Opinion

Praying for Georgia vs. Florida

Dear 8lb, 9oz, tiny absentee manager in the manger,

Little leader, we’re coming to you today with a different sorta prayer.

While of course our eyes are always set on the W, we need a little TLC for our boys this week, Jesus. It’s been three weeks of straight whoopins, the last one only slightly less terrible than this week’s Walking Dead.

This week, our Dawgs are headed down to the Biggest’ Cocktail Party of the year, small Lord. While I’m always thankful not to be in that dang swamp, I’m as nervous about this game as I could be.

Then I realized, it doesn’t really matter (ok, yes it does, PLEASE JESUS SAVE THE SEASON) because we are the Bulldog Nation. And that means something’ more than the outcome of this or any game. And it’s something we all have to summon and to hold on to, tight, right now, while it’s hard.

Bulldogs remember the first time we set foot in Heaven, Jesus.

On Earth, we call it Athens. And we remember marching miles in heels, hammered, calling out about who’s coming down the track. And we remember our first tailgate on North Campus, and how we were darn sure we’d never find a better place to call home. The moment you know you’re a Georgia Bulldog, Jesus, you are forever changed.

We remember our first trip to Jacksonville. If you’re me, on a bus with ALL of the drunk fraternity boys, some of whom are still my most favorite people on the planet. We remember being so wasted before a night game against Auburn that we were sure we’d never make it, but we did. We think about the moment when everyone realizes you’re going to win a too-close game against Tennessee and you hug a complete stranger in the stands. In that moment, you understand why we call it the Bulldog Nation.

We reflect on the players we have loved along the years! And some we love less now, David Pollock, you filthy traitor!

*Ahem*

When you’re a Bulldog, the sound of Larry Munson’s voice does somethin’ to you. Standing in Sanford Stadium on a perfect Saturday afternoon in Fall is better than the best thing you can think of. And the song leading us into the 4th sometimes makes us choked up, but we just pretend our bleary eyes are drunk, because there’s no crying in football.

But there is. Our ever-stoic fans are shedding tears this season, Jesus! When things like last week happen, and the week before, and all of the weeks where the Bulldogs fall, you feel it! And your heart hurts. You worry for your team, not a National title. (Ok, a National title a little, but go with me on this, Jesus.) Georgia Bulldogs everywhere are worried, Jesus, and we need your help!

Watch over us today, lordlet. Loran said it best all those years ago when he said Larry would love this team’s heart. I believe Larry is up there with you, Jesus, so maybe you could talk to him some about why this year’s Georgia team is so incredibly special. Keep it safe! And if in the interim we could whoop some Gator tails, that would also be muchly appreciated.

In your we’re not sure you hear us name we pray,

Amen…and GO DAWGS!

October 29, 2016
A Prayer for #UGAvsSC

Dear 8lb, 9oz precious little Dawg-lovin’ savior,

Happy Sunday, Jesus!

I can’t believe we’re chattin’ on a Sunday. Been a while, I reckon. I sure do like this switch up, baby lord. Brunch and college football at the same time? WHAT A WORLD!

Well, Jesus, we Georgia fans are coming to you a little more humbly this week. Last week, in a very smart move to hail your mom in the last second, those blasted Volunteers stole a victory from our tiny Jacob. Again, lordlet, I can only assume it was part of your greater plan for our boys in silver britches. The way I figure it, Jesus, you’re the biggest come-back kid I know, so I believe in my heart of hearts that you will help our boys pull out a victory today over those wretched chickens and their crappy new leader.

Speaking of, this season it’s a lot harder to even care about these Cocks now that Steve Spurrier is gone.

Baby Jesus, the Holy Bible never mentions whatcha do after Satan retires.

Can we just talk about Spurrier for a second, tiny leader of Heaven? Glad nobody else is around claiming to be the Head Ball Coach any more. Far as I can tell, YOU’RE the only Head Ball Coach around this place…and the ENTIRE UNIVERSE.

Do we even need to talk about Wil Muschamp, small leader? That guy has coached, pretty unsuccessfully, at like, EVERY SEC school. Gross. There can’t be a lick’a loyalty inside him, Jesus! It’s cute that South Carolina has picked up Florida’s sloppy seconds two coaches in a row now, though.

Also, I know last week I said orange was the worst thing you ever made, but that’s just because I forgot about Columbia. What kind of place wants to be the capitol of the state that didn’t even want to be a part of this great grand thing we call AMERICA?! That’s like saying you want to be in a conference outside of the SEC. WHO DOES THAT, Jesus?! Not the Bulldogs, I can tell you that much.

Jesus, could the Bulldogs get a W this week?

I think we’ve earned it through our gracious hurricane negotiations, tiny Eason’s performance this season, and Chubb’s continued super-human healing abilities. Let those Dawgs go back to Athens in high spirits, injury-free and ready to move forward, victorious, for the rest of our season!

In your Larry-lovin’ name we pray,

Amen…and GO DAWGS!

October 9, 2016
Pretty Southern Mama Battles Postpartum Depression

Have you ever thought of taking your own life?

It happened to me. It could happen to you.

Hush hush, we are in the South and aren’t supposed to talk about this sort of thing at all. Postpartum depression (PPD) grabs the life you once had and rips it apart, even though you’re supposed to care for this new baby you longed for and brought into the world. People don’t understand it, but it should be talked about because it’s happening to women everywhere.

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Every day, I battle living with the effects of PPD such as lethargy, negative self-image, pushing away people you once loved, and the feeling like you can’t do anything right. Waking up itself is a chore when you battle depression, trying to fight an aching body and a brain craving extra sleep. Perhaps products like a heating pad could help me get some better sleep.

I was so down that I even tried safe exercises to do while pregnant which honestly, helped me for a while, until the postpartum blues struck again. Then, I did get in touch with a therapist like Physical Therapist Cary NC.

I was so sleepy and lethargic all the time and felt really down. I thought it was just because I was waking every hour or so to feed or rock my baby. But as every month passed I felt worse and worse. If you’re struggling as well, playing games might help a lot in coping up.

I was not a depressive person before pregnancy, but the hormones after pregnancy threw me out of whack. I had several breakups, but none of them spiraled into depression. Heart Detox was all I ever needed to get back into the game. However, I first knew I had PPD when I got home from the hospital after consulting with our family care doctor and didn’t feel bonded with my baby, which made me feel guilty sending me in a downward spiral. Some people refer to this as baby blues, but baby blues only lasts in the first three months postpartum.

After that, it’s called PPD for up to one year postpartum, then after the first year, you’re classified as clinically depressed. I’ve been battling PPD and clinical depression for almost two years now, trying every psychiatric medicine traditional (and nontraditional) under the sun, Jim Brillon Therapy, exercise, you name it, I’ve tried it. One depression medicine will work for a while, then it’ll just stop working, causing me to relapse.

It would be the most beautiful day outside, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I could sleep and sleep for hours and still wake up not feeling rested, my face and lips so pale, my desire to do anything removed, even the need to take care of my new precious baby! The same baby that I wanted so much I underwent surgery and fertility procedures and treatment at a fertility clinic to get pregnant. It was a struggle at first, but we eventually got it done. I had the best body wash for pregnancy when I was still carrying her. Some days are better than others, but that dark cloud is always there, no matter how many times you wish it would go away.

The way that other people view us PPD women just sucks. So many people told me to snap out of depression. If I could just snap out of it, trust me, I would. Those are the people who don’t understand why, how, or what I could possibly be depressed about. Thankfully, there are products like https://cbdarmour.co.uk/cbd-oil/raw-original-cbd-oil-3000mg.html to help alleviate symptoms of PPD.

They just don’t get that it is truly a chemical imbalance that encompasses you.

Who loves female hormones? Not this girl. The other night I put on a full waterworks show! Could. Not. Stop. Crying. I started laughing, then boom, crying again. WTF! My poor husband Chris, held me, probably thinking, “How long is this one gonna last? Crazy coot!” But, he said nothing as he held me, and I did feel better after. I’m guessing I had a lot of pent up stress inside me that needed to come out. And out it did! After that, I ensured that I took up therapy at Luxury rehab at Legacy, which further helped me scrape the stress inside me to deal with it using the new zkittles delta 8.

Yes, depression still kicks my ass every single day. It’s a battle, then I get back up and do it all again the next day. Why? I look at my perfect creation, my daughter, and I know it’s worth it. I know I’d go to the ends of the Earth for her. But, it doesn’t mean my PPD has lifted. It’s still there, it will always be there haunting and torturing me like a lost soul.

Please recognize the signs of PPD in yourself, and look to help other women.

I fight for my life every single day. I hope to help get the word out that it’s ok to have (and admit to having) postpartum depression. We are in this together, we women are strong, and we can fight this.

Editor’s Note: Part II in Victoria’s story will be posted soon

October 3, 2016
Praying for #UGAvsTenn

Dear 8lb, 9oz, SEC-EAST lovin’ little baby Jesus in the manger,

Wowee, Jesus! Welcome to Athens!

What a beautiful and blessed day this is! Baby lord, if you don’t mind, we’re just gonna skip right on over what happened last week, assume it was part of your tiny all-knowing plan, and hope you’ll go back to bestowing W’s upon the always faithful Bulldog Nation.

Today our Bulldogs are taking on some Volunteers in orange (which to me sounds a lot like those prisoners who clean up trash on the side of the road) in some gross old place in Tennessee. Can you just imagine all that orange, lordlet? I know you’re real sorry for whatever day you said “Let there be this,” so as a consolation for it, maybe we could just beat all the orange teams for the rest of the season? Hmmmm? It’s just SO displeasing in a world where you did everything else right.

(Shhh, we won’t talk about Donald Trump, who, actually, is also orange. We know he’s not your doing.)

So here we are, between the Hedges!

We’re up against another dumb team (dressed in orange) who doesn’t know what their mascot is. *cough* Auburn *cough*

But really, baby God, are they a volunteer or a dog? Speaking of mascots, let’s just be honest here, small Christ. I know we’re supposed to love all of your creatures, and we do. But there’s just no way on Earth that Smokey is as good as Uga when it comes down to it. That ol’ Bulldog is a handsome gentleman and could obviously whoop that coon dog’s hiney if he felt like getting off his bag of ice! Also that wretched Rocky Top business. I’m sorry, little savior, but if Phish covers your fight song, you should probably just hang it up.

Also, do you know that UT has a rock, Jesus, where they paint important proclamations!? Sounds a lot to me like they’re trying to replace your 10 Commandments, small ruler. That’s BLASPHEMOUS. Only you and sweet ol’ Moses are allowed to make commands through rocks! Please guide us to victory over these false prophets, and their lame coach, Butch Jones, who, excuse me, was NOT EVEN BORN IN THE SOUTH and needs to go back to the North Middle where he is from.

I wish we didn’t have to talk about this jerk, mini-savior, but I reckon it can’t be avoided. Do you know he drives a $200,000 dollar car? To impress recruits? Last I checked, only creepy dudes go around trying to impress teenage boys, Jesus. THAT. AIN’T. RIGHT. I also heard the university beauty school is giving away Butch Jones haircuts if they beat us. HOW VAIN, Jesus! We all know Pride is one of the 7, so now there’s especially no reason these guys deserve to win! Also, his haircut is stupid. Actually, Auburn said it best when they tweeted that he looks like a lug nut. A creepy, proud, compensating-for-something lug nut.

You know, littlest leader, I really like to think Heaven looks a lot like Sanford Stadium around 9am on the morning of a game. Not like gross old Neyland Stadium, which I hear looks a lot like a garbage truck workers’ convention. I mean, it would make sense, Jesus. Remember when Lane Kiffen left and they burned trash in the streets to stop him? First, what kind of nasty rednecks burn trash? And second, who wants to keep Lane Kiffen anywhere?

In college, I always spent a little extra time talking to you before this game! This year I was thinking it wouldn’t much matter, but now, well, I have to be honest. TODAY IS IMPORTANT, JESUS. The entire East side of the SEC rides on the little magic carpet of your blessings! We need a little extra help on completing those passes (ok, a lot, but it’s not the Freshman’s fault) so I ask that you take good care of our boys in red and black this week, baby ruler of the Universe, especially without our precious Chubb, and for the love of your dad, please don’t let us do that thing where we accidentally lose a game we shouldn’t.

In your Daags on top name we pray,

Amen…and GO DAWGS!

October 1, 2016
A Prayer for UGA vs. Ole Miss

Dear 8lb, 9oz smallest baby Jesus, wearin’ the tiniest little silver britches,

Happy Game Day to you, Lord!

A quick moment of thanks for that messy W last week and another request for a little less strain on the old tickers this one. WOO-EE, Jesus, ya scared us!

Today our #blessed boys in red and black take on the Ole Miss Rebels, infant savior. First of all, Jesus, I don’t really understand. I did some looking into this and I have to be honest and say I didn’t much like what I read about what the name means and I don’t think it’s fitting to talk to the smallest creator of the Universe about it. It came about a long long time ago when someone suggested they name their annual after it! SO, tiny ruler, in summation, this team is named after a racist yearbook.

Nope. I know that won’t fly up in Heaven!

The news gets worse, pint-sized chief. The Ole Miss Mascot? It’s the black bear. Do you know what Mississippi leads the U.S. in, baby Jesus? BLACK BEAR HUNTING. How in all that is holy and small do they hunt their own dang mascot, little leader?

THAT. AIN’T. RIGHT.

If they were anything like our Damn Good Dawgs, they’d give their bears nice little houses and bags of ice on the hot days! The bear also came about after they decided their old mascot, Colonel Reb, was deemed racist (BECAUSE HE’S A DANG CONFEDERATE SOLDIER) Anyways, Jesus, I’m noticing a tendency about these folks and I repeat, I don’t much like it.

Speaking of things we don’t much like, mini-Maker, The Grove is basically the Charleston of tailgating. Sure, it’s pretty, then you get there and realize it’s filled with a bunch of awful rednecks in tacky clothes with average tastes in football teams, running around yelling about how they’re the best. No siree, Jesus.

We all know you find Heaven between the Hedges and that Oxford isn’t allowed to sit with Athens at lunch.

I guess we also have to address this RIDICULOUS Hotty Toddy thing. Jesus, their cheer has a CURSE in it. The D word! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Last I checked, you are, literally, the only one allowed to damn anybody, wee monarch, and the fact that Hotty Toddy doesn’t even mean anything just makes it worse. I mean, isn’t that a drink you have when you’re sick? I think the Dawgs just drink the bourbon and skip the hot and whatever a toddy is because they’re not sissies. I just can’t find a single reason why these fellas deserve your divine intervention, itty bitty baron!

Take good care of our boys today, baby Jesus. Let Jacob Eason see only one set of footprints in the turf as you guide him to victory. Keep Chubb fast, strong, and always ready to hail your mom. Give Coach K ALL THAT FIRE we’ve seen the last two games, littlest deity, and let’s march back to Athens with a (faux) bearskin rug.

In your Hunkerin’ Down name we pray,

GO DAWGS!

September 24, 2016
Praying for UGA vs. Mizzou

Dear 8lb, 9oz, baby savior wearin’ tiny little hobnail boots,

Throwback to 2014 when the Dawgs beat the Tigers in Sanford Stadium. The “tres” were for Todd Gurley

Well Jesus, I have to start by saying you gave us quite a scare last week!

For a minute we thought you’d forsaken us, but we shoulda known better than to doubt you. Thanks for that W. That said, I know you love to have fun, wee ruler, but maybe a few less shenanigans this game?

We’re off to Missouri this week, Jesus! Did you have fun on the flight, baby Lord? I hope you and Coach Kirby sat down over a bourbon, errrr, over a nice glass of milk, and talked about our plan for the day. Maybe a little guidance on the quarterback conundrum, hmmmmmm? I’m sure the littlest creator of Athens and the whole Universe knows just what we should do.

Jesus, I gotta tell ya, I’m pretty tired of Tigers.

I mean, CAN WE GET AN ORIGINAL MASCOT UP IN THIS HOUSE? And these guys are the worst of all. Everyone know tigers are black and orange. (Ew, Jesus, orange, I’m sorry, but not one of your better inventions) These guys are black and gold dart. Um. Gold dart? What? Is their school newspaper called the Gold Dart & Black? I’m sorry, Lord, but that’s just plain dumb.

Speaking of dumb, I’ve been saying this for years, little deity, but Missouri ain’t in the Southeast. It is in the North Middle, Jesus, and therefore they don’t deserve to play in our sacred conference. They don’t even say y’all up there! I’m sorry that SOMEBODY failed geography, but these folks are Yankees and we won’t let them forget it.

On the top of the list of other things we can’t forget, teeny leader, is that Barry Odom has been coaching high school football, pretty much since he left Missouri the first time.

I hear he used to coach for some Memphis team, but from what I’ve read, he mostly worked the back office. I’m sorry, Jesus, but this guy just can’t carry weight against our own Coach K! High school football is for BABIES! I mean, not holy #blessed babies like you, infant messiah, like REAL icky babies who just lay around and can’t do much.

I’m really just hoping the odds are in our favor on this one, small god. We’ve played against these fellas fives times now, and we’ve won FOUR of those times, specifically, the last two. Ooh, Jesus, do you remember that time in 2014 when we totally shut them out 34-0. You may remember another reason why 34 is a sacred number to us Bulldogs, Jesus, so I think it’s a sign that we are meant to repeat that performance.

Bless the boys in RED (because again, what is gold dart) and black as they leave our beautiful, Southern home to take on some poser tigers, small saint. Help us to hunker, keep Chubb safe (and fast), and let whoever is throwin’ our football be the biggest, BADDEST Leroy Brown Mizzou’s ever seen! They call themselves the Show Me state, so I think we oughtta.

In your Glory, Glory singin’ name we pray,

GO DAWGS!

September 17, 2016