The New Woman's Guide to Getting Married

In the words of a famous General, 'I don’t mean to brag, but…' once upon a time, before I entered the 8-5 world [Note: Yes, Dolly, it seems the days of 9-5 are behind us], I spent some time as a youth intern. What that means is that I got paid to play games, make iTunes playlists, put together an occasional PowerPoint, and mold young people during the most impressionable part of their lives. Before I put my humble hat on, I was pretty good at most of those things.

All that to say, if you see teenagers driving away from my house, please refrain from checking any state or national registries. Though, odds are, they are leaving the scene of a crime. It seems last week there was a party on my deck starring King James, Nelly, and Tim McGraw: I have been trespassed against. Over and over again.

For those of you who didn’t grow up in a small Church of Christ, one thing you should know is that, while the CoC world is full of good people, these people don’t throw anything away. You want to know which people were at church on May 17th, 1972? I can look that up in our database. That database is a series of cardboard boxes full of attendance records. In case that whatever you call that cloth-like wallpaper that has covered the walls of the auditorium for 30 years now somehow disappears one day, never fear: We have a couple of spare rolls in a closet. Do you remember the plastic horses suspended by springs that you used to ride on as a child? I do. Mainly because they’re stashed across from one of the classrooms at church.

This week, some of those youth group kids avoided joining a gang and opted to clean up around the church. [Because everything a teenager does during the summer months that is not joining a gang is obviously in an effort to keep them from joining a gang.] As a part of their charitable labor, they cleaned out some of the relics around the church house.

As we have been taught for so long, act as if someone is always watching your actions. Unlike Crosby, Stills, and Nash, we have not taught the children well. In lieu of throwing the junk away, most of it ended up on my back deck.

Day one, day one, God made light when there was none. Day one, day one of church clean up, I come home to some new literature…

I found humor in this. Then things got a little more violent on day two…

Day three was a special one. Backstory: A little over a year ago, the preacher decided to do an object lesson involving trophies. Lucky… er, blessed… for him, our church was a basketball powerhouse in the 70s, a softball dynasty in the 90s, and returned to basketball glory in the early 2000s. If you’re doing the math on the basketball team, you’re right, I still haven’t found that humble hat. Anyway, preacher brought lots of trophies down from the 3rd floor and claimed he would throw them away a couple of weeks after the lesson if no one claimed they wanted them.

A year later, those trophies still sat in the corner of one of the baptistery changing rooms. Until day three. I back in to my driveway like any other evening, when I see a trophy on my gate with a sign reading “You’re the Greatest.” [Thanks, by the way.] I thought this was a great contribution to the deck compared to the previous days. Then I opened the gate…

Day four was the final day of cleanup. I managed to fight through the suspense and make it through the workday. Contrary to what you may have heard, most days when I come home, there are not girls waiting for me at the door. Day four was not most days…

As I know you read this looking for life lessons [and if you’ve read this far today, you obviously deserve it], here are today’s:

1. When you stumble across that banner that says “Community Day 1981”, go ahead and throw it away.
2. If you feel like giving me a gift, just leave it on the back porch, I’ll get it.
3. To my neighbors who read this, if anyone is wondering whether we have a Neighborhood Watch program, we apparently do not.

God Bless Nashville and the Surrounding Areas

If the stereotypical East Nashvillian approached you in Kroger, you might be intimidated by the pale, unshowered, ritualistically-pierced gangbanger with his skinny jeans sagging beneath the weight of his marijuana, art supplies, and 9mm.

Especially if you’re from Brentwood and are already committed to looking at your reflection in the fogged up door in the frozen food aisle. Because, in front of the Bagel Bites and Pizza Rolls, there stands a pair of oversized sunglasses perched a few inches above a shimmery shirt with enormous armholes that hangs a full four inches below the waistband of a pair of tights tucked neatly into a pair of, you guessed it, Ugg boots.

O tal vez eres de Antioquía. Usted no tiene miedo de usar sus pantalones cubiertos de pintura y botas con punta de acero. Su bigote está bien establecido por encima de los labios que hablan español. A medida que tirar de su camioneta de la playa de estacionamiento...

You have to quickly steer your truck up onto the sidewalk to avoid the soccer mom in the giant SUV who is completely lost because she typed the wrong address into the GPS she uses to get around Green Hills. The typing in of the incorrect coordinates is understandable, given the fact that she typed it in while driving in bumper to bumper traffic, fixing her makeup, texting her friend in the giant SUV behind her, and waving her hands around at the driver in front of her as if he is the one who would fail a retest at the DMV. I won’t speak to your mothering skills, but you’re failing at the stay-at-home part, lady.

Excuse me for one second, I was distracted by the thought of working someone from Madison into this. I still struggle to comprehend how a person could walk around in such large shorts. For those of you who have purchased such large shorts, do the plaid boxers and wifebeater come with it? Maybe it’s a big one piece. I’m pretty sure the Michael Vick Falcons jersey that is draped around your neck and one shoulder is sold separately, and I’ve seen the signs for the Air Force Ones ($35 if you call the number stapled to the telephone pole).

Honestly, I stole the first paragraph from a post entitled “East Nashville is Too Stupid for a McDonald’s” that I wrote a couple of weeks back, but the blog server was down (that’s about as techy an explanation I could give). My anger for the guy at McDonald’s expired, but I was kind of proud my description of a stereotypical East Nashville resident. So I thought, “How can I morph this into another post?” Then I thought, “It’s Memorial Day, run with that.”

So this is what you got… Whether you’re a Blood or a Crypt, a goth or a prep, a jock or a hipster, a soccer mom or a kid with two moms, a retiree or a trust fund kid, a high-ranking executive or a college student eating Ramen noodles, there’s men and women who are literally putting their lives on the line to allow you the opportunity to carry on in your current role. And they don’t always make it back.

So, I’m sure it’s been put out there on a lot more important, well-read, higher-trafficked stages, but thank you to those of you who are serving, have served, will serve, or any other conjugation of the verb in the military. Yes, it is your job, but you deserve more than the thanks you get, more than one day’s memorial a year, and more than the $500 discount on a new car that I saw advertised today.

My Digital Paper Boy Just Hit You in the Face

So it’s been a while… For those of you with A.D.D., this post is right up your alley. For those of you with epilepsy, might want to avoid the flashing lights - this post may have a flair for the psychosis. What have we missed since last we got together…

Personals

You ever wish your quiet neighborhood was suddenly infiltrated with millions of horny, pubescent creatures dangerously in need of some Visine? Who needs internet dating when you can live in a hole for 13 years only to wake up to a gaggle of girls that really only want to have kids?

Current Events

Happy belated Mother’s Day to mine. She’s better than yours, but we don’t have to get into that. Evidence: Me. And leftovers.

Sports

Did you know Nashville had a hockey team? Did you know Memphis has a basketball team? Did you know the NBA and NHL playoffs are nowhere near over? You're welcome.

Health

Then there was the time I flew with a sinus infection. I’m not asking to play a major role in your life, but let me make a difference here. A Greyhound bus may have a negative connotation. That connotation won’t make your brain explode. Pick up a can of Lysol and make sure your armrest is down.

World News

A couple of top secret stealth helicopters full of Leroy Browns flew into a residential neighborhood, a couple of hundred feet from a military training academy, and took down the most wanted man in the world. Oh, and they brought a dog along. I’m not here to give an opinion for or against the celebration of a man’s death, but someone should give Waldo and Nemo a heads up.

Pop Culture

Tonight, Glee took a moment to kick me and the rest of their audience squarely in the metaphorical crotch when they somehow roped us in to not changing the channel when they assembled a playlist that included the following: Rolling in the Deep, Friday, and Dancing Queen. America, emasculated.

Coupons

A few weeks back I had the pleasure of purchasing $93.78 worth of milk and ice cream. In case you were wondering, that’s 15 and 8 gallons, respectively, at Scottsville, Kentucky Food Lion prices. To the poor girl who checked me out, I apologize and wish you the best in your quest for interpersonal skills.

Now get out there and spit game like a cicada. Remember you’re fly.

Do We Have to Give You Money?

So last week the two teachers of the 2nd and 3rd grade class at church asked me if I could do about 5 minutes on the Lord’s Supper in their class the following week (yesterday).

So yesterday after worship, I grab the extra trays and head up to face my 3rd grade fate. It is at this point I realize I haven’t seen either of the aforementioned teachers at church. One of my former Sunday School teachers wanders in.

I inquire, “Are you teaching this morning?”

“Nope. I thought you were.”

“Ok. (I was ready to go 5 minutes… What’s 45 divided by 5 again?)”

Since the young families at church collectively abandoned birth control about 10 years ago, there were 7 kids in this class (that’s a decent sized class for our congregation). 7 lumps of clay, just waiting to be molded by my shockingly small hands.

So, I went through a little background information, quickly realizing these kids were a lot more responsive than the teenagers who make up my other teaching experience.

First interesting question: “Did Jesus ask his apostles for money after dinner?”

This one was fun for me to answer.

Second interesting question: “Is that really wine in those cups?” [Note: I never passed it off as such.]

Third interesting question: “Why can’t kids be baptized?” It only took about 45 seconds of our Catholic discussion to get 7 late converts to Lent. Kidding. I didn’t mention Catholics… That might have made this question as enjoyable as the first interesting question.

Final interesting question: “Why are the trays gold?” Because the trays that Nelly’s grillz-maker made just wouldn’t fit into the budget. Even after the special contribution. [Smile on the rocks, please.]

I made it at least 20 minutes longer than I was expecting. At that point I rediscovered the joy of Hangman. Of course, due to Title IX, we also had to have a hangwoman. I even went so far as to make a hangpig [Note: the hangpig was the only round I won – meaning that the kids didn’t figure it out – but that’s mostly because I switched gears from Lord’s Supper words/phrases to Noah’s Ark, and I didn’t give them the apostrophe.]

Today's life lesson: If you're not willing to buy the Uterus Tic Tacs anymore, at least train your little ones to ask interesting questions.

It Was Just Supposed to Be a Free Oil Change

So, a while back, I got a coupon in the mail for a free oil change from a car dealership. Ironically, the coupon was from a different dealership than the one at which I recently spent a couple of Pacman sacks to get my check engine light off. Today I redeemed that coupon. Plus, I also needed a headlight bulb replaced.

The last time I had a headlight go out, I spent 2 hours breaking into my car to replace it. Then I drove away, only to realize the replaced light was saluting a long lost brother of light in Sammy Sosa-like fashion, pointing to the sky. Nothing like driving down Ellington and feeling like you’re peeking up the skirt of every ghetto bridge along the way. That was about 10 months ago. You want to guess which headlight went out Tuesday? You’re right. I suck.

These are the reasons I decided to let the professionals do it. Plus, I didn’t want to break my streak and actually get something free from a car dealership.

I called yesterday to schedule an appointment. The guy said it would take maybe an hour and a half. He then asked if I wanted a ride back to the office or if I wanted to wait it out. I decided to go at lunch and wait it out.

Upon arrival, they told me everyone in the shop was at lunch. Therefore, it was going to take at least 3 hours.

Courtesy van it is.

So I got to ride shotgun… Then everyone else started piling in. Aside from the fact we weren’t in a Beetle or a Mini-Cooper, I’m fairly confident I know what a clown in transit must feel like. So the 8 of us take off down the road. I’ve ridden in many a church van full of nasty kids. This was in no way comparable, but shotgun was still looking like a pretty good call.

We got one dropped off in less than 5 minutes. Clutch for the folks in the middle seats. Then things got interesting.

Due to our driver’s traffic allergy, we are driving through the hood of West Nashville. He’s constantly reassuring the backseat crew that they will not get shot. I’ve driven this area many a time to avoid Charlotte traffic, so I am not worried about my safety. Blue lights serve to bolster this feeling. Until I realize the blue lights are not going around our courtesy van.

It’s been a while since I’ve been pulled over, but I’m fairly familiar with acceptable etiquette. The driver pulls over. It is at this point in time my version of standard operating procedure ceases. Our driver greets the officer with a string of profanity audible from at least the back bumper.

You want to know what 7 people standing in a parking lot outside of a courtesy van looks like? Drive a courtesy van, cuss out a cop and refuse to give him your license, registration and proof of insurance.

Yep.

I’d like to thank my business casual for stopping the second and third cops from handcuffing me… Can’t say as much for the driver and his two fast friends who stepped to his misguided defense. He who has ears, let him hear: officers of the law do not enjoy wit and sarcasm when handcuffing courtesy van riders.

Additionally, I now know how thorough a drug search [Note: to clarify, search of a car, not human cavities] can be when performed by trained personnel.

In a truly surprising turn of events, no one got arrested. I couldn’t have typed that sentence and ended it with “fired.” Two hours and one new driver later, I got back to work. Just in time to turn around and catch the shuttle back to the dealership.

You remember when your librarian friend told you that you can’t use Wikipedia as a source and you can’t believe everything you read on the internet? She’s right. I hope I sufficiently dusted off my fiction writing.

In reality, the first part of that story was true. You know… the uneventful part? Once I got in the courtesy van, it was just me and the friendly driver. We talked NCAA basketball and made it to the office in under 10 minutes.

Whoever decided there would be one day a year when it is socially acceptable to lie? It’s not even April, fools. Keep an eye out tomorrow… You never know when someone will get to work 2 hours early and decorate your cube like Neyland Stadium.

For Optimal Viewing Pleasure, Read on a Jumbotron

Today’s novel novelette [Note: I fully expected that to be red-squigglied, but apparently novelette is a word – guess I’ll have to stick with “parablismic” as my attempt at making an original entry into the dictionary. Parablismic – adj. Worthy of being a parable; an analogy on steroid-laced AGH - Analogy Growth Hormones.]… Anyway, today’s novelette: Obedience to a large screen.

We live in a culture that longs to do what Simon says. Sure, we all think we’re above the law. Some people speed. Some people let their grass grow beyond the allowable limit of the local ordinance. Some people post ads on Craigslist in an effort to find a new victim… But a vast majority of humankind cannot resist the urge to obey a jumbotron.

You pass random people in public and you’re lucky if you don’t get hissed at once a week, but you put a clipart picture frame on a huge TV screen and paste the words “Smile Cam” on the top? Nothing but chiclets.

Two words and eleven exclamation points can make an stadium full of introverts shriek like Tatum Riley when Billy Loomis hits the garage door opener. “Make Noise!!!!!!!!!!!” So you won’t scream just because I typed it on the internet? What if you were reading this on a jumbotron? Don’t act like it wouldn’t work.

Then there’s the Kiss Cam. Really? Aside from the rare humor found when the guy goes for the lips and ends up with a tongue full of dandruff, there is nothing entertaining about watching people kiss at sporting events. Okay… two sets of dentures colliding on screen can sometimes be considered cute, but even then, that’s really only if you’re trying to be the next one on screen with the member of the opposite sex next to you who is also claiming the mustache-to-mustache contact is cute.

What is it about the big screen that makes people stop thinking and start pulling out pale triceps flab for the Gold’s Gym Flex Cam? Sure you could pull a Jamie Foxx and blame the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol, but the PDA happens regardless of the BAC.

Where else will this work? After I bought a Mercury or two, if I had money, I might just try to rent one of those LED billboards and give a few friendly suggestions to passers-by… [Just imagine the exclamation points because I dislike exclamation points.]

Close Your Eyes

Change to Mix 92.9

Put Your Hands Up, They’re Playing My Song

Stop Sucking at Driving

Slow Traffic Keep Right on Picking Your Nose – No One Will Notice

On The Count of 3, Everybody Take a Hard Right...

1...

2...

Your Blinker Has Been On Since You Changed to Mix 92.9

You’re a Grown Man… Trade in the Beetle

Think About What This Screen Is Telling You To Do Before You Do It

Keep Alabama Beautiful... Then Let Your Leprechaun Friend Drive Your Unicorn Home.

Before Chairs and Desks were Separate

Well, I hope none of you has (early grammar test paired with foreshadowing – boom) tried to contact Dr. Drew or any other VH1 personality due to withdrawals from the blog. Though if you contacted Dr. Dre or any other Dr. Pepper commercial personality because of this blog, that’s fantastic.

Anyway, it may have been brought to my attention by a preacher’s kid that it’s been a while since I graced you with my vocabulary. So, when this thing goes south, blame the PK.

You ever remember random things from middle or high school? As I am fairly self-aware, I suspect I am a hit with the younger generation, so some of you may still be in high school. Now I’m not talking about remembering that time you pegged a good friend in the forehead with an egg, that time you got tossed out of a basketball game for trash-talking a future NBA lottery pick, or that time you dragged a gutter into your geometry class. I’m talking about random educational tidbits that you have no business remembering.

Allow me to take this opportunity to thank my primary and secondary educators. Bless your hearts. It’s thanks to you all I can rattle off 60-some-odd prepositions in under 10 seconds, I use the Pythagorean theorem to try to calculate the hypotenuse of the angle the jerk in the Toyota Tercel used to cut me off, and I find it hilarious to tell elementary school kids there is a country called Djibouti. And the capital of Djibouti? Djibouti.

If you don’t have random knowledge projectiles flying through your mind occasionally, you might want to sit in on a G.E.D., ACT, or U.S. Citizenship test sometime. You’re missing out.

Aside from the author of a semi-world-famous-blog, you know who else has these fortuitous facts pop up? Dwayne Michael Carter... “I got through that sentence like a subject and a predicate.”[Grammar] “I have more jewels than your jeweler – touch and I will bust your medulla.” [Anatomy] “I told you I get paid by the letter like ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY ZZ TOP.” [Wordly Wise]

See kids, when your parents tell you can be whatever you want when you grow up, that’s a lie. You can’t be mermaid. You can’t be a mermaid’s husband (no matter how awesome that would be). And you can’t be the greatest rapper in the world… unless you pay, paid, or will have paid attention in school.

So in the a world that hits you 140 characters at a time, insert a little unexpected information every once in a while to surprise and edify (fine, those don’t really rhyme, but it was as close as I could get while being distracted by Glee’s Umbrella/Singin’ in the Rain) your fellow man. And remember your helping verbs: am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been, has, have, had, do, does, did, shall, will, should, could, would, may, might, must, can.