At the Vanderbilt game in 2004 (yes, that one) I ran into Cerdo in one of the men's restrooms on the West Side. It went a little something like this.
Stumbling Drunk Me: [sees guy in black Woopig shirt] HAAAAYY! Do you posth on the woopigths?
Cerdo: [eyes Stumbling Drunk cautiously, avoiding the temptation to say "No you dumb fuck, I just found this shirt in the discount bin at Goodwill]: Why yes I do. I post as Cerdo [begins polite brief explanation of the origin of the word cerdo, which goes right over Stumbling Drunk's head].
Fortunately Cerdo took it easy on me, something that I've learned over the last few years doesn't happen very often when he's dealing with drunken hicks like myself. I'll chalk it up to sympathy, or maybe frustration with the Hogs' performance that night.