An Offering to Juju: The Tale of the Purple Sweater

The BCS Championship game is just hours away. Over the course of the next 24 hours, Takimoto will be presenting a series of lexical offerings to Juju. We begin with a horror story.

I own a purple sweater. It's not a Fuskie sweater, but it is purple. Last Thursday, I had a substitute teaching gig, and I needed to look professional. I put on the purple sweater. I then remembered I hadn't yet brushed my teeth. As I brushed, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked at that purple sweater. I began to lose myself in the rhythm of the brushing, and the purple of the sweater. I began to imagine what it would be to live a life of purple. What if fate and the universe had brought 18-year-old Tako to the University of Washington? What would my life have been? Would it be a life where I felt bad for Damon Huard and cringed every time Kenny Wheaton scored, a life where my team won a national championship and won it fair and square, a life where Jake Locker was among the great quarterbacks in my school's history, despite what his on-field record looks like? I slipped deeper into my toothbrush-induced hallucination, and my thoughts moved to Ryan Appleby, and why that Brooks guy had to go and hit him for no reason. He's just a scrappy guard trying to play basketball, he didn't deserve to get punched. It was at that moment when I began to feel intensely nauseous. My gaze returned to my face. I was foaming at the mouth, my gums were bleeding, and I had managed to make myself nauseous. I hated who I was, and I felt like crawling back into bed and crying. Is this what being a Dawg is like?

I wore a green sweater to work that day.

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