I sometimes have a dream where I go back to college. I’m really excited during this dream, I think because I know much more now than I ever did in college – I mean, I would be able to decorate the SHIT out of a dorm room! Plus my hair looks a lot better these days and I now understand the games those frat boys and athletes play. If the current Piper was magically transported back to relive the co-ed Piper years, I would confuseandastoundandrocktheirworlds.
So I have these dreams, and in the dream I am supposed to move into my own dorm room and begin going to classes. But then I suddenly remember that I left my baby in my “real home” apartment. MY BABY. And I’m freaking out because I can’t remember the last time I fed the baby and I don’t have a phone to call someone to go get the baby and it’s all alone. I’m losing my mind. AND IT RUINS MY COLLEGE BUFFET BREAKFAST IN THE CAFETERIA.
I’m sure you think that’s completely horrible, which it is.
I have a friend whose children have all attended Stanford University. She and her husband both attended Stanford University. Their future grandchildren have been promised spots at Stanford in twenty years. And I attended the University of Tulsa, which is often called the “Stanford of the Midwest”.
No, I’m kidding. It’s not.
Anyway, my friend Ann Marie was telling me the other day about the most awesome and amazing phenomenon which lives and eats pizza at Stanford. It is called the Stanford Band. Her son was in the Stanford Band all four years of college, and he even married a Stanford Band dancer. He still considers himself a part of the Stanford Band because their motto is, “once in the band, always in the band”, which very much appeals to that college-dreaming-never-grow-old side of me. I guess it appeals to other people, too, since Ann Marie told me there is some fifty-year old dude who still shows up for practices and performances.
The Stanford Band is not your typical marching band. They are a scatter band. Which basically means they create havoc.
As you see, the Stanford Band has a very loosey goosey dress code. Black pants, red vest or jacket, fisherman’s caps, and an ugly-ass tie. My friend Ann Marie tells me that you don’t even have to be a musician to be in the Stanford Band. If you’re cool enough, you might make it in the band if you can keep a beat and have fun. That’s why they sometimes have members who drum on a mannequin leg or a child’s booster seat. I WANT TO AUDITION.
I’m love with the Stanford Band.
I’m more in love with this tree mascot. That is one effed up mascot. Like a tree that’s been dancing at an all-night kegger while tripping on a bag of mushrooms.
These young ladies are the Stanford Dollies. I’m also in love with the Stanford Dollies, just from looking at the pictures I found while researching them online. Those are the five girls who dance along with the band. The Dollies change every year, bringing in fresh faces, pretty new legs, and new ways to shake their booties and laugh while they’re doing it. The assistant manager of the Stanford Band oversees the Dollies, and this person is called the Dollie Daddy or Mama as well as the Ass Man.
The fun just doesn’t stop.
It’s probably a good thing that their motto doesn’t seem to include “once a Dollie, always a Dollie”, because if it did, you would have women like me trying to pull on their old costumes and run onto the field to bust out the Roger Rabbit.
Did you know the Stanford Band’s official song is “All Right Now” by the band Free? Did you know the Stanford Band has a library of over three hundred rock songs spanning the generations? Did you know the Stanford band calls its support vehicle the Badonkadonk Land Cruiser? And did you know that the Stanford Band creates havoc in many more ways than wearing crazy costumes and spelling out naughty words on the field? They do. Because they are much smarter than that.
I mean, DUH. THEY ALL SCORED HIGHER THAN 1400 ON THEIR SAT’s.
The student-run Stanford Band likes to choreograph halftime performances which poke fun at the opposing team. Ok, they really try to piss them off. They are very good at this. They play songs and write scripts to chap the hides of their opponents, or the state of the opponents, or the alumni of the opponents.
Like the time they played USC back in the ’90’s during the O.J. Simpson trial and they drove a white Bronco with bloody handprints smeared on it all around the field. Or the time they played Notre Dame and the drum major dressed in a nun costume with a big wooden cross instead of a baton. And some middle-aged Catholic Notre Dame fan woman ran on the field and chased him around, trying to rip the nun’s habit off his head and screaming at him that he was going to hell.
Oh my gosh, I would have died to see that.
And the time they played San Jose State U and the band’s announcer yelled out during the show, “no chuppah, no schtuppa!”. Which I guess you won’t get if you have no Jewish friends in your life. But it’s basically saying IF YOU DON’T BUY THE COW, YOU AIN’T GETTIN THE MILK FOR FREE.
And the time they played BYU and the Stanford Band did some crazy halftime performance that featured the Dollies dressed as brides with one husband and they made fun of the Mormons by having the Band Manager kneeling and “proposing” to each as the announcer read that marriage is “the sacred bond that exists between a man and a woman… and a woman… and a woman… and a woman.” I bet the BYU fans loved that.
I love you, Stanford Band. I’m going to dust off my old flute. I’m also going to start sewing my very own Dollie costume. I’ll be sending in my audition tape very soon.