Title of update refers to collective noise made by Philadelphia metropolitan area and its subsidiaries going absolutely batshit last night at around 6pm.
The Eagles are going to the Super Bowl. The core Shepherd clan shall be united on Redwood Drive on February 6, and I shan't go to work the day after. There were tears last night. And fabulous silver and green makeup. And an extremely bemused gay man at a loss as to why a stupid game could inspire such hysterics in the tiny girl in the horrible green wig leaping and screeching around his group house. I left it to token straight roommate Jeffrey to explain, as I was far too busy violating acceptable DC-neighborhood noise levels.
Alas, I had to keep my victory celebrations to a minimum at the office, as my good pal and fellow tiny red-headed football fan Beth is a traumatized Steelers fan. There will be time enough for slapping the front page of the Inquirer on the office door. As one who understands playoff-induced pain, a certain amount of restraint must be exercised. For now.
Fly eagles fly...
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