The Bend before Thanksgiving

A black burglar style stocking cap, a black ski coat, and a $1,000 pair of sunglasses complimented the goatee nicely. I looked like a cold biker, which means I looked like an out of place Oakland Raiders fan.

"Why do you want to look so mean?" my cousin's 10-year-old daughter Blair asked.

"Because it's fun to be mean," I told her with a big grin. One day she will understand.

Besides, I've decided menacing (even if just to children) is the new sexy. And I need all the help I can get in that department, especially when hanging out with my cousin Kevin. I actually heard a grown woman call him gorgeous - even though he was drinking a freaking girlie peach bellini at the time. Maybe she meant fabulous.

Then again, I accessorized by borrowing Blair's long pink scarf. I should have called myself Good N Plenty - but I just thought of that now. We collectively decided if anyone mocked me I would hurl the ball right back in their court claiming I was showing support for breast cancer research.

That's the kind of fun I have with my cousins when I visit South Bend for a football weekend. The towns around Notre Dame become a playground for our bits.

Kevin is an optometrist, which is a job I would recommend as a side career for journalists in that you meet a lot of interesting people, people who can get him trendy Chrome Heart shades at deep discounts or know how to get good tickets to football games and access to the NBC VIP tent, for instance.

Once in that tent, I was shocked and appalled that the Ohio State - Michigan game was playing on the TVs. The game was on ABC. So, as Kevin gathered grilled meats from the spread, I went up to him and demanded that he tell corporate come Monday to let them know NBC programming was not prominently featured given that the network pretty much pays owns Notre Dame football (a deal I am sure they are glad they made, as everyone enjoys watching a team that should change its name to the Passive Aggressive Irish).

A couple people in line heard, and in that polite Midwestern way said to each other, "Well, it is an important game."

Which is more than we all could say for spending an afternoon watching the Irish play Duke, two 1-9 teams battle it out. But I am not complaining. It shouldn't always be about winning - I tell myself that a good many mornings as I head off to my job.

Nay, championship season or not, a day in South Bend is about the comedy, too - and a bad team supplies plenty of material, even if much of it involves way to easy fat jokes about head coach Charlie Weiss.

For instance, I was disappointed that the student section didn't change that ooooooooh kickoff chant to doooooooo-nut, then toss the doughy treats unto the sidelines at the feet of the portly coach. Or how about chanting One and Nine, One and Nine?

Couldn't someone have arranged geese to fly over in formation? And maybe at half time any player with a Jamaican 'do could have donated his hair to cancer patients in a Dreadlocks of Love promotion, as the band played Bob Marley.

The game itself lasted almost four hours, thanks to TV timeouts, penalty calls, and incomplete passes. It was tied at 0-0 well into the second quarter (which forebode a possible overtime) before ND broke the game open.

In celebration, and as it was my cousin's birthday, we headed out for dinner at a branch of a fancy Chicago steak place. Yes, even Indiana is becoming like Naperville.

Fancy sunglasses perched on my chrome dome (courtesy of Kevin getting discounted pairs from a sales rep), I noticed once again that way too many guys have adopted the shaved head thing, which is fine by me. It makes more sense than a comb-over and, as I have mentioned before, makes it easier for me should I decide to rob a bank. More suspects.

My other cousin Dan, a plastic/reconstructive surgeon, joined us for after dinner drinks. Yeah, I am the underachiever in the family. Also, not too many people are impressed when you try to explain your attempt at a writing career - but if you work on eyes and faces, in a looks-obsessed culture, people pay attention.

This is not necessarily a good thing. In some cases their ears perk up because they want their ears to perk up, and their chins and wrinkles to disappear. Some expect you to work on the barter system, trading vanity surgery or laser eye work, for, say, drinks and slabs of beef.

As Men's Health might put it, Kevin radiates menergy. If he were devious he could be a roving spokesmodel fro Dan. Pulling out a picture of me, he could tell potential clients that is what he looked like before Dan did his magic.

But they were both raised good Catholic boys. Instead they listened politely when two petite young bartenders asked about their looks. What do you say to such questions?

And it wasn't like these two were the sisters of the Elephant Man. Sure, they were hobbit sized. One sounded like she ingested helium. The other was sort of mousey. I don't think they wanted to know that. They wanted to know how to be more beautiful.

It almost made me want to gain weight and wear thick glasses.

To that end, after the steak place closed, we followed some staff to TGIFriday's where my thin cousin Dan ordered some Mexican food, while the bartenders came by again to inquire more about looks issues. In fact, one of them told us she wants to BE a plastic surgeon - Physician, heal thyself, I guess.

I know the ultimate way to end vanity discussions, but it's atomic. You tell a woman she looks like she's gained some weight and needs to go on a diet. With my mean sunglasses in the car, though, I didn't say that.

Instead we went to Linebackers, an archetype for college football party bar, which is to say it was packed with drunks, smelling of cigarettes and the hunt for desperate coed sex, and the floor was sticky with a day's worth of spilled booze. Oh, the kids all knew the words to every rap song played, and to Avril Lavigne tunes, too. How much is tuition to Notre Dame? Money well spent.

There was a $5 cover charge at 2 a.m. It got you the beer of your choice in a Big Gulp sized plastic cub, which turns out to be the best way to enjoy a Smithwick's.

Scoping the room, I noticed some portly middle aged guys who were in the NBC tent earlier in the day, which brought everything full circle.

And it's the full circle time of year, another 11 months gone in a nano, ending with my usual ritual of a couple college football games, then Thanksgiving dinner, a vacation out west, Christmas and figuring out how to spend New Year's Eve.

For several private reasons I won't really miss 2007. It started out with my car catching fire.

But a good Thanksgiving dinner with friends, a weekend in South Bend - those are wistful ways to get through another 365.