Well, I promised I would have an amazing day today. I think I was fairly successful in that endeavor. It started off well – took my car to Nissan because if there was ever going to be paradise, I didn’t want it to be by the Check Engine light. The Nissan guys were in good spirits, laughing and whatnot. Little did I know that was all just to loosen up my purse strings. This isn’t supposed to be about my car, but let’s just say there was enough wrong with it that Nissan asked to sleep on it.
In exchange for my 2004 grandma colored Altima, they gave me a 2010 slate colored Altima. Slate might be the coolest color name outside of orange, and that’s only because you can’t eat slate. Slate you glad I didn’t tell an orange joke?
After they verified I knew how to operate a push-button start, I drove away to discover that the guys at Nissan had set all of my presets for me. Let’s just say 107.5 was the closest any of the six stations got to country. In lieu of hunting for stations, I decided to live it up.
In a perfect world, I would live every day in a musical like the Scrubs musical. Today was close to perfect in this regard.
Midday, one of my friends managed to get Tender Tennessee Christmas stuck in my head for at least the 6th time this year. That sentence wasn’t meant for humor, or even to tell you about my day. It was more to remind you that they say in L.A., it’s a warm holiday, it’s the only place to be. But it doesn’t matter. Give me the laughter.
While living it up this afternoon, James Brown informed me that Santa Claus goes straight to the ghetto. I can’t think of anything that says two days before December like thinking about Saint Nick in the hood.
A few songs later, I had the privilege of hearing Akon and Michael Jackson’s new song. This made me wonder a few things…
One. If Michael Jackson were still alive, would he do a song with Akon? As screwed up as he was, MJ had one of the most impressive voices in culture, pop or otherwise. Akon’s voice has never been heard. There weren’t a lot of words in “Hold My Hand”, but even without any blowfish, I enjoyed that 4 minutes… Glad Konvict Muzik purchased the rights to Michael Jackson's leftover syllables.
Two. How long do we have to wait for MJ, Tupac, and Elvis to release the most impressive single ever to hit the airwaves? Seriously, gentlemen, make it happen. Life on that island must get boring. I don’t know if there’s room in your mouths for me to put words, given the coin in there for Charon the Ferry Boat Man, but this could happen. “I’m Starting with the Man In the Ghetto Gospel” – there, that should give you some common ground to start on. Feel free to go in whatever direction you choose… I trust the Decomposed Amigos.
Three. If I had to choose between being blind or def, I’d choose blind in a heartbeat. Sure, there are tax incentives for being blind, but also, if you were def, you’d never get to hear Nelly’s "Just a Dream". But those of us who were blind would get to hear it every time we turned on 106.7. I am excited to live in a world where Nelly is back on the radio, but the number of times that song gets played per day is St. Lunacy.
Well, in case you can't tell by the volume of hyperlinks, I have full internet now. Lookout, world.
11.26.2010
Time for Giving Thanks Has Passed
I was far too preoccupied yesterday with dressing to be thankful. The food group dressing, not the act of putting on clothes. As such, I shall be thankful tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for a lot of nouns (you know, persons, places, things, and ideas), but tonight I choose to focus my finger calories on the nouns I am thankful for, but would also be interested to live without for a short amount of time…
Cell phones. It’s nice to be able to reach anyone anytime. It is not always so nice to be expected to be reached at any time. Plus, rotary phones way more reliable than an iPhone.
Marching bands. No disrespect intended to the band geeks out there. Drumline is one of my top 4 movies of all time. However, if there were no marching bands, there would be far less Rocky Top.
Cars. They’re supposed to fly by now, you know. Plus, mine currently has the check engine soon light on.
Social Media. Ironic, I know. I love a good tweet as much as the next guy, but I have no interest in the airing of your proverbial laundry on your facebook wall. Nor do I have an interest in you flaunting your literal laundry or lack thereof on said facebook.
Toenails. I’m sure they serve a purpose, but why must they grow? And collect sock gunk in their corners?
Electricity. To be blunt, humans are soft, and fire is fun. In immediate retrospect, I may be more thankful for electricity than I thought.
Whales. They’re majestic creatures, truly. However, if there were no whales, there would be no Whale Wars on Animal Planet. On the other hand, Willy would have never been in captivity and that cool Native American guy wouldn’t have blazed the pop culture trail wearing his puka shell necklace. [Ironically, per IMDb, that guy’s name is August Schellenberg.]
Seven seems like a good enough number for this category of thanks. I could go on, but really, seven's plenty.
A quick rundown of things I’m thankful for and thankful that I don’t have to live without (in no particular order): Hot Pockets, family, Glee, church in the hood, TSA agents, blankets, Mom's lasagna, Sean Connery movies, Memorial Gym, you (inasmuch, not leaving you out), adjectives, good drivers, flannel sheets, and “chocolaty goodness”.
To close motivationally, per usual… A portion of tonight’s [Note: I wrote this a couple of days ago and was inhibited from posting] Thanksgiving Wednesday night devo thought made me ponder [I may be going out on a limb when I say the percentage of crossover between the audience reading this and the 47 people at church tonight is relatively low]… “Live life, just as you have it... Smile, even if you have no idea what’s going on.” Tomorrow’s over/under is set at 5,400 calories. [Editor's Note: If you took the under, please make your payment accordingly. I will accept PayPal.]
Crank up the Christmas music.
Cell phones. It’s nice to be able to reach anyone anytime. It is not always so nice to be expected to be reached at any time. Plus, rotary phones way more reliable than an iPhone.
Marching bands. No disrespect intended to the band geeks out there. Drumline is one of my top 4 movies of all time. However, if there were no marching bands, there would be far less Rocky Top.
Cars. They’re supposed to fly by now, you know. Plus, mine currently has the check engine soon light on.
Social Media. Ironic, I know. I love a good tweet as much as the next guy, but I have no interest in the airing of your proverbial laundry on your facebook wall. Nor do I have an interest in you flaunting your literal laundry or lack thereof on said facebook.
Toenails. I’m sure they serve a purpose, but why must they grow? And collect sock gunk in their corners?
Electricity. To be blunt, humans are soft, and fire is fun. In immediate retrospect, I may be more thankful for electricity than I thought.
Whales. They’re majestic creatures, truly. However, if there were no whales, there would be no Whale Wars on Animal Planet. On the other hand, Willy would have never been in captivity and that cool Native American guy wouldn’t have blazed the pop culture trail wearing his puka shell necklace. [Ironically, per IMDb, that guy’s name is August Schellenberg.]
Seven seems like a good enough number for this category of thanks. I could go on, but really, seven's plenty.
A quick rundown of things I’m thankful for and thankful that I don’t have to live without (in no particular order): Hot Pockets, family, Glee, church in the hood, TSA agents, blankets, Mom's lasagna, Sean Connery movies, Memorial Gym, you (inasmuch, not leaving you out), adjectives, good drivers, flannel sheets, and “chocolaty goodness”.
To close motivationally, per usual… A portion of tonight’s [Note: I wrote this a couple of days ago and was inhibited from posting] Thanksgiving Wednesday night devo thought made me ponder [I may be going out on a limb when I say the percentage of crossover between the audience reading this and the 47 people at church tonight is relatively low]… “Live life, just as you have it... Smile, even if you have no idea what’s going on.” Tomorrow’s over/under is set at 5,400 calories. [Editor's Note: If you took the under, please make your payment accordingly. I will accept PayPal.]
Crank up the Christmas music.
11.15.2010
If You're Lost , You Can Look...
So, North Nashville recently got a new Super Wal-Mart. By North Nashville, I mean Madison, specifically Dickerson Road. Yes, that Dickerson Road. However, even on this infamous Nashville roadway, the Super Wal-Mart crowd is 47% less sketchy than the regular Wal-Mart in Rivergate. All that to say, I bought some new sheets.
When I was little, I always had a favorite part of wintertime, outside of the obvious gift-receiving. There was the time that I thought I would have fun and help out by breaking the ice off of the sliding glass door, only to have my father inform me that the ice was in fact the outer pane of what used to be a dual pane sliding glass door… But, alas, that wasn’t my favorite yuletide of my youth event. Nope… that title was reserved for when Mom determined it was time to put the penguin sheets on my bed.
Baby blue sheets full of vibrant penguins living the dream. The best part of the sheet change? Those punderful penguins were made of flannel. Flannel sheets make a man think that Al Borland had it right all along. To draw a terrible and disgusting analogy, flannel sheets are a grown man’s womb. But instead of going through the awkward process of taking a wrong turn and wandering off into some dark fallopian tube, a man can simply peel back the covers and climb into the warmth and security of a good set of flannel sheets.
Some relatively young adults might be more inclined to seek out high thread counts to impress their overnight visitors. Those folks are seeking the warmth of a woman. Or an STD... Me? I’m seeking the warmth of the Wal-Mart sheets I got on sale for fifteen dollars. That included two pillowcases, a flat sheet and one of those physically unfoldable sheets. And, one day, I’ll marry that mountainwoman that will climb in those flannel sheets with me. We can save the Egyptian cotton for summertime.
So, let’s close this out with a little motivation… Maybe you can easily remember your favorite part of childhood. Maybe you don’t want to remember your childhood. Hopefully, your best days are ahead of you. A wise man once told me if these were the best days of my life, I should kill myself. Don’t go that far, but do take the time to do something that makes you truly happy.
Find your flannel.
When I was little, I always had a favorite part of wintertime, outside of the obvious gift-receiving. There was the time that I thought I would have fun and help out by breaking the ice off of the sliding glass door, only to have my father inform me that the ice was in fact the outer pane of what used to be a dual pane sliding glass door… But, alas, that wasn’t my favorite yuletide of my youth event. Nope… that title was reserved for when Mom determined it was time to put the penguin sheets on my bed.
Baby blue sheets full of vibrant penguins living the dream. The best part of the sheet change? Those punderful penguins were made of flannel. Flannel sheets make a man think that Al Borland had it right all along. To draw a terrible and disgusting analogy, flannel sheets are a grown man’s womb. But instead of going through the awkward process of taking a wrong turn and wandering off into some dark fallopian tube, a man can simply peel back the covers and climb into the warmth and security of a good set of flannel sheets.
Some relatively young adults might be more inclined to seek out high thread counts to impress their overnight visitors. Those folks are seeking the warmth of a woman. Or an STD... Me? I’m seeking the warmth of the Wal-Mart sheets I got on sale for fifteen dollars. That included two pillowcases, a flat sheet and one of those physically unfoldable sheets. And, one day, I’ll marry that mountainwoman that will climb in those flannel sheets with me. We can save the Egyptian cotton for summertime.
So, let’s close this out with a little motivation… Maybe you can easily remember your favorite part of childhood. Maybe you don’t want to remember your childhood. Hopefully, your best days are ahead of you. A wise man once told me if these were the best days of my life, I should kill myself. Don’t go that far, but do take the time to do something that makes you truly happy.
Find your flannel.
11.08.2010
Cute Girls on the Short Bus
I'm about to get my Natalie Merchant on...
So I’ve been doing this blog thing for a little while now… This is post number 20 in fact. A milestone of sorts. I don’t have any intention of being the guy who writes for a little while, finally gets a following, and then forgets about the folks that got him there. This is for you guys… It’s easy to get on the bus when the going is good, but you all started on the bus. Sure, it may not be a big bus yet. But the people I want reading my blog are the people who are willing to be the first ones to hop on the short bus on a cold morning.
I want this to be as enjoyable as possible for you guys. I want you to get rewarded for being first on the bus – not only by getting the back seat where you can spend the ride imagining what would happen if you opened the emergency door, but while you’re back there reading the instructions on how to open the door, the cute girl comes and sits beside you… Not the cute girl from your grade, but the grade above you.
Allow me to say thank you. Thank you to the folks in Denmark who keep looking at this thing. And thanks for starting to tell your friends in Sweden... Canada, the UK [Is The United Kingdom like The Ohio State? Additionally, while watching The Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader a while back, they tried to tell a guy there were only 3 adjectives in a sentence. However, there were two additional “the”s in that sentence, bringing the grand total of adjectives to five. Sure it’s an article, but an article is an adjective] , Mexico, Germany, Singapore, Israel and Pakistan, I see you too. Like ZZ Top, this blog is bad and worldwide. Probably more the former than the latter.
Thank you to my second leading source of volume, the high Simmons. [First hyperlink of my young blogging career]. Mile high. Taking the occasional break from studying the laws that govern the greatest country in the world and shaping the young to become President so that they can go to any sporting event they want, the Skeets have been kind enough to let some of their loyal readers stray off the path and into the rocky soil.
And there are a couple of more groups I need to thank. First, thank you to the people who come here by clicking the “Next Blog” button. Sure, you’re probably looking for some creepy erotic blog, but, alas, you stumbled upon this creepy non-erotic blog. Thanks for stopping by.
Lastly, thank you to the creepers. I know your kind. You claim “Hey, he’s putting it out there, he doesn’t need to know I’m reading it and taking notes on his life.” And you’re right. Lurk away. You’re an important part of society. Without you lurking, I wouldn’t have to worry about staying true to my blog. It’s you who is going to call me out about anything contradictory to something I posted on here. And it’s to you that I promise to never again use the phrase “stay true to my blog”.
Remind me to remember you all again in a few years when Mark Zuckerberg, Jay-Z, Rosie O’Donnell, Bruce Willis and Taylor Swift are on my blog's board of directors.
I want to thank you. Thank you.
So I’ve been doing this blog thing for a little while now… This is post number 20 in fact. A milestone of sorts. I don’t have any intention of being the guy who writes for a little while, finally gets a following, and then forgets about the folks that got him there. This is for you guys… It’s easy to get on the bus when the going is good, but you all started on the bus. Sure, it may not be a big bus yet. But the people I want reading my blog are the people who are willing to be the first ones to hop on the short bus on a cold morning.
I want this to be as enjoyable as possible for you guys. I want you to get rewarded for being first on the bus – not only by getting the back seat where you can spend the ride imagining what would happen if you opened the emergency door, but while you’re back there reading the instructions on how to open the door, the cute girl comes and sits beside you… Not the cute girl from your grade, but the grade above you.
Allow me to say thank you. Thank you to the folks in Denmark who keep looking at this thing. And thanks for starting to tell your friends in Sweden... Canada, the UK [Is The United Kingdom like The Ohio State? Additionally, while watching The Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader a while back, they tried to tell a guy there were only 3 adjectives in a sentence. However, there were two additional “the”s in that sentence, bringing the grand total of adjectives to five. Sure it’s an article, but an article is an adjective] , Mexico, Germany, Singapore, Israel and Pakistan, I see you too. Like ZZ Top, this blog is bad and worldwide. Probably more the former than the latter.
Thank you to my second leading source of volume, the high Simmons. [First hyperlink of my young blogging career]. Mile high. Taking the occasional break from studying the laws that govern the greatest country in the world and shaping the young to become President so that they can go to any sporting event they want, the Skeets have been kind enough to let some of their loyal readers stray off the path and into the rocky soil.
And there are a couple of more groups I need to thank. First, thank you to the people who come here by clicking the “Next Blog” button. Sure, you’re probably looking for some creepy erotic blog, but, alas, you stumbled upon this creepy non-erotic blog. Thanks for stopping by.
Lastly, thank you to the creepers. I know your kind. You claim “Hey, he’s putting it out there, he doesn’t need to know I’m reading it and taking notes on his life.” And you’re right. Lurk away. You’re an important part of society. Without you lurking, I wouldn’t have to worry about staying true to my blog. It’s you who is going to call me out about anything contradictory to something I posted on here. And it’s to you that I promise to never again use the phrase “stay true to my blog”.
Remind me to remember you all again in a few years when Mark Zuckerberg, Jay-Z, Rosie O’Donnell, Bruce Willis and Taylor Swift are on my blog's board of directors.
I want to thank you. Thank you.
11.03.2010
For a Smile They Can Share the Night
Because you have no reason to read this, I don’t have to have a reason to write it. Today’s topic: stereotyping. Why you ask? Well, in a world of coincidences…
I spent the early evening in deep discussion about the stereotypical Brentwood girl. After all, it’s No-Pants-and-Uggs season. If you haven’t purchased your Cleveland Cavaliers 2011 calendar… you know, the one with LeBron James on the cover because they print those things way too far in advance… if you haven’t picked up your 2011 calendar, No-Pants-and-Uggs season runs from September 2nd through June 28th.
For those of you sweet innocent girls out there, I’m not upset that you choose to wear tights under your dress or your strangely long, ridiculously overpriced t-shirt… No-Pants-and-Uggs season is geared more toward those girls who are genuinely offended when a male is suckered into glancing at the Urkel-high thong popping out of your low-rise paint pants.
Anyway, so I spent a decent amount of time making casual references to the anything but casual attire one might find at the local frozen yogurt store in the upper-class part of town. [Note: I mean, really, a store that sells only frozen yogurt? ] Don’t get the wrong idea, Brentwood girls are great people… even the ones with vicegrip pants, but they are fairly easy to pigeonhole (thank you, Microsoft Word synonym finder).
So I stopped at my slumdog shell station on the way home from that conversation. While I’m waiting for my tank to fill, a set of rims pull up to the pump on the opposite side of the parking lot. [Note: The car the rims are connected to doesn’t really matter in Inglewood.] So the rims pull up, with their tinted windows and sound system blaring. Now that you have all joined me in my first stereotype, the song blaring from the rims? Don’t Stop Believing. So, I transitioned from stereotype 1 to stereotype 2. I went from thinking a young male with his obese father’s pants around his ankles was going to step out of the rims to thinking a high school kid who has been given a little too much of his parents’ money to do with as he so poorly chooses. Then the guy stepped out of the rims.
As I try not to commit manslaughter with suspense, let me tell you a little about the man who stepped out of the rims. While I’m pumping gas like Alshon Jeffery, singing along to Journey, a middle-aged man with his white shirt and red tie, with his driving cap atop his smiling head, danced out of the rims and into the gas station. That’s about as close to unstereotypable as a situation can get… unless he had let his mother drive.
So what did we learn today? You can’t judge an audio-book by its case. Everyone is living just to find emotion. Journey went on and on and on and on, long before Lamb Chop. And when we’re all singing to the same song, we’re never really strangers.
I spent the early evening in deep discussion about the stereotypical Brentwood girl. After all, it’s No-Pants-and-Uggs season. If you haven’t purchased your Cleveland Cavaliers 2011 calendar… you know, the one with LeBron James on the cover because they print those things way too far in advance… if you haven’t picked up your 2011 calendar, No-Pants-and-Uggs season runs from September 2nd through June 28th.
For those of you sweet innocent girls out there, I’m not upset that you choose to wear tights under your dress or your strangely long, ridiculously overpriced t-shirt… No-Pants-and-Uggs season is geared more toward those girls who are genuinely offended when a male is suckered into glancing at the Urkel-high thong popping out of your low-rise paint pants.
Anyway, so I spent a decent amount of time making casual references to the anything but casual attire one might find at the local frozen yogurt store in the upper-class part of town. [Note: I mean, really, a store that sells only frozen yogurt? ] Don’t get the wrong idea, Brentwood girls are great people… even the ones with vicegrip pants, but they are fairly easy to pigeonhole (thank you, Microsoft Word synonym finder).
So I stopped at my slumdog shell station on the way home from that conversation. While I’m waiting for my tank to fill, a set of rims pull up to the pump on the opposite side of the parking lot. [Note: The car the rims are connected to doesn’t really matter in Inglewood.] So the rims pull up, with their tinted windows and sound system blaring. Now that you have all joined me in my first stereotype, the song blaring from the rims? Don’t Stop Believing. So, I transitioned from stereotype 1 to stereotype 2. I went from thinking a young male with his obese father’s pants around his ankles was going to step out of the rims to thinking a high school kid who has been given a little too much of his parents’ money to do with as he so poorly chooses. Then the guy stepped out of the rims.
As I try not to commit manslaughter with suspense, let me tell you a little about the man who stepped out of the rims. While I’m pumping gas like Alshon Jeffery, singing along to Journey, a middle-aged man with his white shirt and red tie, with his driving cap atop his smiling head, danced out of the rims and into the gas station. That’s about as close to unstereotypable as a situation can get… unless he had let his mother drive.
So what did we learn today? You can’t judge an audio-book by its case. Everyone is living just to find emotion. Journey went on and on and on and on, long before Lamb Chop. And when we’re all singing to the same song, we’re never really strangers.
10.30.2010
The Perfect Song
So I’m typing this from 39,000 feet in the air. Once we reached the magical altitude where an ipod no longer can cause a plane crash, the earbuds were in. During “Another One Bites the Dust”, I convinced myself that I was going to try to remember every song that played until it was time to turn off all electronic devices in preparation for landing.... Kind of like my own version of one of those youth group games where you’re all going on a hypothetical trip, and you have to remember what each person is bringing on that trip. It was halfway through “I’m Sorry Momma” when I realized this was not only not a good idea, but also impossible. Perhaps if Coach McPherson had taught me a memory jogger for numbers 11-50, I might have been able to do it.
Instead, I decided I would share with you my musical journey from Los Angeles to Nashville. I’m sure there are a lot of bad musicians out there who could sympathize, empathize, and maybe even harmonize with a musical journey between these two cities, if that was what I was referring to. However, I am simply referring to the soundtrack of the skies. I have set the ipod to shuffle on all songs. As long as I remember, I will write each song title and artist below. In a completely non-condescending font, I highly doubt any of you will recognize all of these songs. So take this opportunity to expand your horizons. I will be inserting random comments along the way, because being on a plane isn’t all that interesting. But, I will try to keep it short since this has potential to be the longest post ever.
Not that you care, but the hardest part of this journey is going to be not hitting the next button. Buckle up, folks. In fact, go ahead and make sure your chair backs and tray tables are in the upright and locked position as well. Thank you and welcome aboard.
Whispering Truths – Red Shepherd
Another One Bites the Dust – Queen
I Miss My Friend – Daryl Worley
Daniel – Elton John
I’m Sorry Momma – Eminem
No One Loves Me Like You – Jars of Clay
Born to Be Wild – Steppenwolf
Hard Habit to Break – Chicago
Cowgirl’s Saddle – Garth Brooks
[The woman in the window seat in front of me just went to the bathroom. I promise not to update you on all trips to the lavatory, but this is the girl who, on a full flight, tried not to let anyone sit beside her because “she gets sick on planes.” ...So many problems with this scenario.]
Love Me Do – The Beatles
[This song begins a lot like the Sesame Street theme song. So much so, in fact, that I wondered when I had gotten the Sesame Street theme song]
Taxi – Harry Chapin
Before He Cheats – Carrie Underwood-Fisher
Turf’s Up – Brad Paisley
Take the Keys to My Heart – Garth Brooks
Karin Boye’s Evening Prayer – as performed by the DLHS Concert Chorus, circa 2003
[I am getting an incredible amount of odd enjoyment from this experience. This is probably a bad idea, because the anticipation for the next song is similar to Christmas Eve. Thus, each song goes by a little slower.]
Excuse Me Mr. – Ben Harper
When a Man Loves a Woman – Percy Sledge
This is the Way We Ball – Lil’ Flip
[I like a little rap as much as the next accountant, but I blame my brother for that one. Though I do like to floss, and all my diamonds do gloss.]
Owner of a Lonely Heart – Yes
[While we’re blaming family members… Dad, I hope you have googled me, stumbled upon this, and smiled.]
Roll Out – Ludacris
[I don’t think it’s fair to blame the brother more than once. I am at fault here as well. I promise I tried to clean the library up a while back. Crack slipper.]
Give – Third Day
[I can’t decide if Luda and Third Day back to back is hypocritical or well-rounded… Leaning toward hypocritical.]
Just For You – Sam Cooke
[Well, I understand pilots have bladders too, and I did make a promise earlier, but how qualified are Southwest flight attendants? One of them just replaced a peeing pilot. They’re not allowing anyone to come up to the front. The pilot is now on the phone, just hanging out. Either this puppy is going down, or the other pilot is getting some action.]
Pony – Ginuwine
[Pilots and flight attendants have returned to their respective posts. That was quick, but she was cute.]
My Old Friend – Tim McGraw
The Way You Do the Things You Do – The Temptations
With You – Jessica Simpson
[Brutal honesty, but, with you, I can say anything crazy.]
Against All Odds – Phil Collins
Thank You – Sly and the Family Stone
[Five minutes of my life I will never get back.]
Stay Gone – Jimmy Wayne
You Got Me – LoCash Cowboys
[When did not wearing pants in public become socially acceptable? IF I wore tights out of the house, I like to think people would frown on that.]
Love Me Good – Michael W. Smith
Let It Be – Performed by Joe Cocker
99.9% Sure – Brian McComas
Dead and Alive – Loren Sanders
[Out of 1,610 songs, it only took 35 to get to one that I wasn’t quite ready to share with the blog world. If you’re not affiliated with Taylor Christian Camp, sorry, but this explanation is not coming.]
Oh What a Night – The Four Seasons
[If you are affiliated with TCC, you can imagine my disbelief when I heard the music come on for this song right after the last. And yes, this is the actual song.]
Can’t Tell Me Nothin’ – Tim McGraw
Little Maggie – Ricky Skaggs
[Remember that no next button commitment? Wavering.]
What Would Jesus Do? – Big Tent Revival
What is Wrong – Red Shepherd
[I would pause for a moment of silence, but that would require a hitch in the playlist giddyup.]
Don’t Worry ‘Bout a Thing – SheDaisy
Wrapped Around – Brad Paisley
She Thinks She Needs Me – Andy Griggs
[The two gentlemen beside me have become fast friends. 4 hours of talking. Sure, there’s a chance they could be reading this now. But I dimmed the screen and shrunk the font whenever I was writing about the flight attendant rendezvous during drink service.]
It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye – Boyz II Men
[On Fridays, BNA is one of my favorite places on earth. I enjoyed California. Work went well. We had a little time to go to the beach. But Dorothy was right.]
Groovin’ – The Rascals
Dust in the Wind – Kansas
[I love how effectively this artist tied in with my most recent reference.]
It Did – Brad Paisley
[Captain just came on… Looks like this party may be on its last leg. It’s been fun. Sure beats a second run through Sky Mall.]
That was indeed the last song of the flight... I know a majority of society could not care less about this post. However, if you ever wondered, "What is that guy listening to," maybe this will help you realize you probably don't really want to know.
For the 8 people who have clicked on my blog from Denmark, I hope you guys get to experience such culture.
#40000feet50songs2newbestfriends1poorexcuseforablogpost
Instead, I decided I would share with you my musical journey from Los Angeles to Nashville. I’m sure there are a lot of bad musicians out there who could sympathize, empathize, and maybe even harmonize with a musical journey between these two cities, if that was what I was referring to. However, I am simply referring to the soundtrack of the skies. I have set the ipod to shuffle on all songs. As long as I remember, I will write each song title and artist below. In a completely non-condescending font, I highly doubt any of you will recognize all of these songs. So take this opportunity to expand your horizons. I will be inserting random comments along the way, because being on a plane isn’t all that interesting. But, I will try to keep it short since this has potential to be the longest post ever.
Not that you care, but the hardest part of this journey is going to be not hitting the next button. Buckle up, folks. In fact, go ahead and make sure your chair backs and tray tables are in the upright and locked position as well. Thank you and welcome aboard.
Whispering Truths – Red Shepherd
Another One Bites the Dust – Queen
I Miss My Friend – Daryl Worley
Daniel – Elton John
I’m Sorry Momma – Eminem
No One Loves Me Like You – Jars of Clay
Born to Be Wild – Steppenwolf
Hard Habit to Break – Chicago
Cowgirl’s Saddle – Garth Brooks
[The woman in the window seat in front of me just went to the bathroom. I promise not to update you on all trips to the lavatory, but this is the girl who, on a full flight, tried not to let anyone sit beside her because “she gets sick on planes.” ...So many problems with this scenario.]
Love Me Do – The Beatles
[This song begins a lot like the Sesame Street theme song. So much so, in fact, that I wondered when I had gotten the Sesame Street theme song]
Taxi – Harry Chapin
Before He Cheats – Carrie Underwood-Fisher
Turf’s Up – Brad Paisley
Take the Keys to My Heart – Garth Brooks
Karin Boye’s Evening Prayer – as performed by the DLHS Concert Chorus, circa 2003
[I am getting an incredible amount of odd enjoyment from this experience. This is probably a bad idea, because the anticipation for the next song is similar to Christmas Eve. Thus, each song goes by a little slower.]
Excuse Me Mr. – Ben Harper
When a Man Loves a Woman – Percy Sledge
This is the Way We Ball – Lil’ Flip
[I like a little rap as much as the next accountant, but I blame my brother for that one. Though I do like to floss, and all my diamonds do gloss.]
Owner of a Lonely Heart – Yes
[While we’re blaming family members… Dad, I hope you have googled me, stumbled upon this, and smiled.]
Roll Out – Ludacris
[I don’t think it’s fair to blame the brother more than once. I am at fault here as well. I promise I tried to clean the library up a while back. Crack slipper.]
Give – Third Day
[I can’t decide if Luda and Third Day back to back is hypocritical or well-rounded… Leaning toward hypocritical.]
Just For You – Sam Cooke
[Well, I understand pilots have bladders too, and I did make a promise earlier, but how qualified are Southwest flight attendants? One of them just replaced a peeing pilot. They’re not allowing anyone to come up to the front. The pilot is now on the phone, just hanging out. Either this puppy is going down, or the other pilot is getting some action.]
Pony – Ginuwine
[Pilots and flight attendants have returned to their respective posts. That was quick, but she was cute.]
My Old Friend – Tim McGraw
The Way You Do the Things You Do – The Temptations
With You – Jessica Simpson
[Brutal honesty, but, with you, I can say anything crazy.]
Against All Odds – Phil Collins
Thank You – Sly and the Family Stone
[Five minutes of my life I will never get back.]
Stay Gone – Jimmy Wayne
You Got Me – LoCash Cowboys
[When did not wearing pants in public become socially acceptable? IF I wore tights out of the house, I like to think people would frown on that.]
Love Me Good – Michael W. Smith
Let It Be – Performed by Joe Cocker
99.9% Sure – Brian McComas
Dead and Alive – Loren Sanders
[Out of 1,610 songs, it only took 35 to get to one that I wasn’t quite ready to share with the blog world. If you’re not affiliated with Taylor Christian Camp, sorry, but this explanation is not coming.]
Oh What a Night – The Four Seasons
[If you are affiliated with TCC, you can imagine my disbelief when I heard the music come on for this song right after the last. And yes, this is the actual song.]
Can’t Tell Me Nothin’ – Tim McGraw
Little Maggie – Ricky Skaggs
[Remember that no next button commitment? Wavering.]
What Would Jesus Do? – Big Tent Revival
What is Wrong – Red Shepherd
[I would pause for a moment of silence, but that would require a hitch in the playlist giddyup.]
Don’t Worry ‘Bout a Thing – SheDaisy
Wrapped Around – Brad Paisley
She Thinks She Needs Me – Andy Griggs
[The two gentlemen beside me have become fast friends. 4 hours of talking. Sure, there’s a chance they could be reading this now. But I dimmed the screen and shrunk the font whenever I was writing about the flight attendant rendezvous during drink service.]
It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye – Boyz II Men
[On Fridays, BNA is one of my favorite places on earth. I enjoyed California. Work went well. We had a little time to go to the beach. But Dorothy was right.]
Groovin’ – The Rascals
Dust in the Wind – Kansas
[I love how effectively this artist tied in with my most recent reference.]
It Did – Brad Paisley
[Captain just came on… Looks like this party may be on its last leg. It’s been fun. Sure beats a second run through Sky Mall.]
That was indeed the last song of the flight... I know a majority of society could not care less about this post. However, if you ever wondered, "What is that guy listening to," maybe this will help you realize you probably don't really want to know.
For the 8 people who have clicked on my blog from Denmark, I hope you guys get to experience such culture.
#40000feet50songs2newbestfriends1poorexcuseforablogpost
10.28.2010
I Smiled and Said, "I'll Have Some of That"
Once you reach adulthood [Note: Adulthood is different than Manhood, as I have been reminded oh so many times by practicing married men.], you quickly reach a point where you identify the good things in life. They’re not always big things. In fact, for the most part, they’re quite the opposite. For instance, the inspiration for writing this? Today I went to the bathroom at work, and the water was blue.
Not much is better in the work/school/gas station environment than seeing blue water when you enter a bathroom stall frequented by several people each day. Could it be a false sense of cleanliness? Absolutely. But at least there’s a chance that stall won’t give you hepatitis. Not all deuces can be taken in 7th grade hall at David Lipscomb Campus School. [Note: For the uninformed, this was the location of choice for the duration of my high school career. This hall was no longer used after my class finished 7th grade, and, as such, solidarity was easier to find here than anywhere else in Harding Hall. If you walked in and saw feet, you were beat, and it was time to let the victor have his soil. In retrospect, the fact that so many males saw this as their personal bowel haven, probably means it was the most disgusting location available.] So, if you must go in a public-ish bathroom, the blue water makes cleaning up with Georgia Pacific sandpaper all the more bearable.
More little good things? Let’s see… I’m on an audit this week, so I meet 3 co-workers in the hotel lobby to head to work. We all climb in the Impala, and start the car up. Three of us in the car each have 2-3 years experience in our department. The fourth, we’ll call well-experienced. Today’s little good thing: cranking up the car and hearing Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing”. Per a little Wikipedia research, “Wild Thing” was the first single released from the 1989 album Loc-ed After Dark. The second was like unto it, “Funky Cold Medina.” If you have heard one but not the other, rest assured, you have heard them both. For those who completely missed the boat, these songs are as different as Pat Green’s “Wave on Wave” and “Feels Just Like It Should”. Regardless, listening to Tone Loc before 8 a.m. with a Department Director is a good thing.
Free food in the break room at work – another good thing. Unless… Last week in the office, I overhear some discussion about pizza. I have my ipod on, so I don’t hear all of it. Then I get an IM from a coworker who sits near me, asking if I’ve heard anything about pizza because someone from the 1st floor is asking about rumored 2nd floor pizza. Well, yes, I have. I suddenly remember more of the conversation overheard than I think I ever heard in the first place. I share my knowledge, and we set off to explore. We go to the far break room and spot 6 pizza boxes. I duck my head in the nearest cube and ask, “what’s the deal with the pizza?” “Is that that smell?” – actual response. “Yeah, it’s on the table in here. Anything on the table in our kitchen is fair game – same here?” “Yeah…” Now there are three of us in the kitchen. One guy starts opening boxes... he identifies the first pizza as artichoke, and it’s a good thing he did because I couldn’t identify artichoke if my life depended on it. Second pizza: artichoke. Third: some unidentifiable vegetable. Fourth: artichoke. Fifth: Pineapple. Not chunks, mind you, but full slices. Sixth and final pizza appeared to be cheese. However, there were only 2 pieces left and the first 5 boxes had sufficiently scared me to a point where I was sure I could make it the last 2 hours of the workday without a piece of pizza. However, normally, free food in the break room is a good thing.
I could go on, but by this point, you have already come up with your own good things. You have also convinced yourself that your good things are better than mine. They probably are, but a conceited approach to little good things in life: not a little good thing.
Not much is better in the work/school/gas station environment than seeing blue water when you enter a bathroom stall frequented by several people each day. Could it be a false sense of cleanliness? Absolutely. But at least there’s a chance that stall won’t give you hepatitis. Not all deuces can be taken in 7th grade hall at David Lipscomb Campus School. [Note: For the uninformed, this was the location of choice for the duration of my high school career. This hall was no longer used after my class finished 7th grade, and, as such, solidarity was easier to find here than anywhere else in Harding Hall. If you walked in and saw feet, you were beat, and it was time to let the victor have his soil. In retrospect, the fact that so many males saw this as their personal bowel haven, probably means it was the most disgusting location available.] So, if you must go in a public-ish bathroom, the blue water makes cleaning up with Georgia Pacific sandpaper all the more bearable.
More little good things? Let’s see… I’m on an audit this week, so I meet 3 co-workers in the hotel lobby to head to work. We all climb in the Impala, and start the car up. Three of us in the car each have 2-3 years experience in our department. The fourth, we’ll call well-experienced. Today’s little good thing: cranking up the car and hearing Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing”. Per a little Wikipedia research, “Wild Thing” was the first single released from the 1989 album Loc-ed After Dark. The second was like unto it, “Funky Cold Medina.” If you have heard one but not the other, rest assured, you have heard them both. For those who completely missed the boat, these songs are as different as Pat Green’s “Wave on Wave” and “Feels Just Like It Should”. Regardless, listening to Tone Loc before 8 a.m. with a Department Director is a good thing.
Free food in the break room at work – another good thing. Unless… Last week in the office, I overhear some discussion about pizza. I have my ipod on, so I don’t hear all of it. Then I get an IM from a coworker who sits near me, asking if I’ve heard anything about pizza because someone from the 1st floor is asking about rumored 2nd floor pizza. Well, yes, I have. I suddenly remember more of the conversation overheard than I think I ever heard in the first place. I share my knowledge, and we set off to explore. We go to the far break room and spot 6 pizza boxes. I duck my head in the nearest cube and ask, “what’s the deal with the pizza?” “Is that that smell?” – actual response. “Yeah, it’s on the table in here. Anything on the table in our kitchen is fair game – same here?” “Yeah…” Now there are three of us in the kitchen. One guy starts opening boxes... he identifies the first pizza as artichoke, and it’s a good thing he did because I couldn’t identify artichoke if my life depended on it. Second pizza: artichoke. Third: some unidentifiable vegetable. Fourth: artichoke. Fifth: Pineapple. Not chunks, mind you, but full slices. Sixth and final pizza appeared to be cheese. However, there were only 2 pieces left and the first 5 boxes had sufficiently scared me to a point where I was sure I could make it the last 2 hours of the workday without a piece of pizza. However, normally, free food in the break room is a good thing.
I could go on, but by this point, you have already come up with your own good things. You have also convinced yourself that your good things are better than mine. They probably are, but a conceited approach to little good things in life: not a little good thing.
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