I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
August 17, 2006
When I was a freshman at the University of Georgia, football Game Days were the first of many rude awakenings I’d have during the next four years.
By 8am on Saturday mornings, the lawn outside my dorm window would be filled bumper to bumper with SUVs swathed in red and black streamers and topped with UGA flags. Aging alums would mill about on the walkway in their best bulldog finery, sipping Bloody Marys and grilling burgers. I would be woken out of a fitful sleep by the sounds of the school fight song blaring continuously from the loudspeakers one tailgater had thoughtfully remembered to bring from home and place in the bed of his four-door pickup truck. It seemed these crazed alums believed that if they chugged enough beers by 9am, they could relive the days of their youth for the next six or so hours.
Or at least they could deprive me of the chance to sleep off a really bad hangover.
“Gah!” I wanted to scream out my window at them. “Your college days are over! Go back home to your kids and your accounting jobs! It is 8 fucking a-m and you are drinking Miller Lite! What kind of life is that?! GAH!”
Little did I know the subtle brainwashing these poor baby boomers had been enduring for years at the hands of the slick UGA advertising brain trust. Upon graduating, I began receiving a barrage of glossy university catalogues, each one beckoning me with its siren call of ornate and abundant bulldog gear. At first, their allure was easy to resist, but as I’ve gotten older, the pictures have become more mesmerizing.
The men are even worse.
Want your husband to start bringing you flowers again? Buy him a Bulldog sportcoat! So what if he went to USC? He looks great in red, AND it’s only $395!
I sigh and put the catalogue aside, only to be drawn in later by the home decorating section.
An entire UGA bedroom. Talk about daring to be different! No one’s doing red and black right now- You could be first! And why stop there?
With another little one on the way, you’ll be needing some new crib bedding. What infant wouldn’t want to see the merry growl of a Georgia bulldog every which way he looks?
Go ahead and get the stroller and diaper bag, too. It will look sharp at the next Game Day! Yeah! Game Day! That’s a great idea! You’d better get there early, or you won’t find a good tailgating spot! And if you leave the baby at home, you can use the stroller and shoulder bag to carry beer!
I feel myself capitulating. Maybe I really could achieve some sort of alumnic ecstasy if I would only unleash my inner dawg and join the other Botoxed zombies on the lawn outside the Myers Quad.
Wait a second. What the hell am I talking about? I’m not one of them! I’ll never be one of them!
Still, the inexorable draw of the Great Bulldog is tough to elude. I’ve tried moving, unlisting my phone number, and changing my name, but the powers that be at my alma mater always manage to find me and resume the brainwashing-by-mail. UGA credit cards, clothing, grill accessories and commissioned paintings all could be mine. Mine, mine mine!
I guess this is what they mean when they say Once a dawg, always a dawg.
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>I don’t get this “Alma Mater” stuff. I went to school. I got edumacated. I got a job. What? Besides tuition now I owe them my house to take over to decorate? Naw. I don’t think so! That blazer makes the guy look like he should be selling used cars.
>NOOOOOOI hadn’t thought about UGA in ages! I had the whole “damn good dog woof wooof woof” crap all out of my brain and NOW look what you’ve done. Way to share the pain Lindsay!
>Maybe that’s the good reason that I didn’t finish college…to keep off the alum mailing list. Ya know we’ve lived in 4 different states and 1 different country and DH’s college STILL hounds us for $$…of course it didn’t help that he graduated from a school that got hit with an earthquake.
>They doooo say that babies can distinguish black, white and red first…. I went to a private university. They don’t sent glossy mags full of stuff to buy. They just flat out ask for money about once a week.
>I am an avid college football fan…let me clarify…I am an over the top OHIO STATE college football fan and if all those nifty catalogue items were Buckeye gear I would see nothing wrong with any of them 🙂 This is coming from a girl who has OHIO STATE checks. Yes, I am one of “them”. And the sick thing? I didn’t even go there!
>This is kind of a strange American phenomenon to me. That red jacket kind of scares me. As do the hypnotized blue eyes on that man.
>My college now wants me to bequeth my home and estate to them….not on your life, I spent enough money there, they won’t get mine! BESIDES I’m not quite done with my house and money yet.
>They look like pod people. Children of the corn. Stepford people.My husband didn’t go to college but our checks have the UW husky on them. I hate my checks.
>lol – the baby gear is hilarious!!You too can brainwash your child, starting with it’s first night in the crib!
>I went to a private university, and they don’t even bother with this stuff. They just hold their hand out. Oh, and they have a piano sale every year, because one year is all it takes to wear out the pianos in the school of music, so they MUST be replaced. But I know they’re really going to spend my money on new fountains and statues. Enough of my tuition went to that stuff, so I feel no guilt throwing the stuff away.My husband, on the other hand, I have to talk him out of this kind of thing. And the university he’s attached to isn’t even his alma mater. He’s already started the propaganda on me to send our son there, and he’s only 2!
>I really shouldn’t be laughing at this post, since I have Arkansas Razorback tissues in my purse, but I do think it’s funny. My aunt makes her living selling Razorback stuff and no matter how obnoxious a souvenir is, it always sells around Game Day!
>I went to Texas A&M, so all that gear and clothing and equipment? That’s nothing! Did anyone else notice that baby’s thought bubble says “help.me.”?
>That bedroom reminds me a bit of my late Granny’s living room. Okay, it wasn’t that extreme, but it was quite bulldogged out.I didn’t know you went to UGA — about half of my high school graduating class went there (not quite, but a lot) and so did various family members.
>When I moved from Atlanta to Nashville, I had my full Bulldog outfit made up of my UGA t-shirt and Bulldog boxers (remember when it was acceptable to wear them as shorts?). There was a guy in my homeroom class who made fun of me all the time because he was a Georgia Tech fan.I had a crush on him from then until we graduated high school.Anyway, I didn’t realize you were a UGA girl. I knew I liked you.
>Now I have Information Society stuck in my head.Pure Energy!!
>Those models just look so… so… HAPPY! You too could be that happy – with just one easy payment…
>You’re lucky the Dawgs don’t show up till Saturday morning! Game Day in Death Valley (that’s LSU stadium for those that don’t know) starts as early as 8 am on FRIDAY.The motorhomes show up clogging up parking on an already parking nightmare campus.I have LSU checks and at one time had purple hair duuring the Fall semester. I’m fairly positive the last time I hade blood drawn the nurse was shocked to see it be purple with gold mixed in. Game Day in 15 days!~One LSU Freak~
>Hubby is a William & Mary alum. Their colors are green and gold. Imagine the snickers every time we see a Waste Management dumpster, complete with green & gold WM logo. 😉 Puts it into perspective, doesn’t it?
>These pictures nearly made me violently ill. I hope you can figure out why. Bulldogs are the ugliest creatures on earth.
>I do miss Athens. Go Dawgs.
>As the spouse of a beautiful UGA grad and obsessive fan, I see lots and lots of these catalogs around our humble domicile.Shall I list the UGA related merch that I see around here every day? I’ll spare you that red and black itemization.Two things though: We are the proud owners of an UGA line bulldog and I leave the house on gameday so as not to interfere with her emotional reactions to the occasional UF or UT victory.
>i think that shirt, skirt and belt would suit you.. really.;)
>As the spouse of the above Chez Bez I have to agree with him! LOL I AM obsessive! I love my DAWGS and have since I was a little girl and not b/c anyone in my family brainwashed me. We still haven’t figured out how I turned out this way. LOL It only got worse when I actually went to a game. I miss it now and love being able to go to the occasional game. Usually the UGA/Vandy game here in Nashville. Heck, I even bought my last year tickets through Vanderbilt and just this week I received a flyer from Vandy for season tickets!! LOL
>y’know, I don’t mind the cute skirt and blazer .. but I think it’s mainly the cute models that draw me in .. However it’s probably recommended that you buy the bedlinen AFTER you have the baby .. otherwise there’s a good chance there won’t be no baby ( talk about your contraceptive aids ! )
>Well, I happen to know of a family that made their downstairs half-bathroom into a Titans shrine. To me, that’s the line you simply cannot cross.
>Ha! I scoff at your cute widdle puppy dog. Dr. B graduated from the University of Arkansas, they are represented by a sunburned, rabid pig and we have U of A switchcover (in the garage), numerous T-shirts (hidden behind the wash machine), baseball caps (buried in the bottom of the toy box)and a silk tie (he keeps safe at his office).Go (away) Razorbacks!
>When we lived in Atlanta we met lots of Bulldogs and saw lots of the alumni decked out in shirts, hats, etc (but never ther red sportcoat). There was one house that even had 2 bulldog lawn statues.
>”The merry growl of a UGA bulldog”? Don’t you mean the merry growl of UGA? God, I remember an elementary school class fieldtrip that took us to the UGA graveyard… I wept for the little dogs.