Tonight I watched the Badgers trounce my alma mater in basketball. Actually, we (‘we’ usually means the Badgers, but I did my duty and supported the Raiders) did much better than I would have expected. Plus I got the amusement of watching the team and going, “I remember you! I tutored you in Astro 101!” and “I remember grading your tests!”
So, you know, general geekiness of the sort only I can bring to a sporting event. Also, I’m pretty sure I was the only person there in a ‘Gate T-shirt, and Mom and I were the only ones clapping when we scored.
I could do a very maudlin post about nostalgia and my feelings about seeing the Raiders here in WI, but instead I will just say one thing: While I am proud of my alma mater, I was first and always will be a Badger girl. There is one very simple reason why:
This thing gives me nightmares. Really. I mean, REALLY. There are so many things wrong with our mascot I don’t know where to begin. Incidentally, his skin appears almost lavender in person, so, you know, even more terrifying.
Wisconsin, on the other hand, has this bundle of adorbz:
I’m pretty sure he’s the cutest mascot in the history of ever and I just want to hug him and squeeze him and call him…Bucky.
Seriously, though, which would you choose? CUTE…
There’s no contest. Cute wins, hands down. Come on, our badger even looks cute dressed as a pirate!
Plus, he’s strong…
…helps around the house…
…and cooperates fully with law enforcement officials.
Though really, shame on the police officer who arrests Bucky!