The "Ex" Files

Ah, our exes. What would we do without them? Some still love us. Some hate us. Some express their anger with colorful profanities and hand gestures hurled in our direction at every opportunity. Some disappear never to be heard from again. (I don't know anything about that.) And some pop up every few months or so like Bob Dole. Well, maybe not exactly like Bob Dole.

Anyway, it started last weekend. I was over at a friend's house on Saturday night when out of nowhere I got a text message from an ex-girlfriend. I hadn't spoken with her in about nine months. (The fact that this time period is roughly the same as the normal human gestation period is purely coincidental. I hope.)

I don't remember what the first couple of messages said. Just general small talk, I guess. Said she was having a bad week or something. Then it started. I kept the next four messages on my phone just for the purpose of blogging them. (Spelling has been corrected because, well, that's just what I do):

"Just know I love you with every fiber of my being, but I have faults."

Um, OK.

"You are who I love and want to spend forever with."

Um, have you been drinking? (I actually sent that to her.)

"In my heart there has never been anybody else that compares to you. Just know you are who I love."

Where is all this coming from? (That, too.)

"You are it for me. I have things to tell you. Just know it's always been you."

What the crap? I mean, seriously. Who says this? This isn't like, "You wanna go out to eat sometime?" And where is this coming from anyway? Is it some sort of pre-Valentine's Day loneliness thing? Why didn't she say all this when we dated?

And the thing is, I know that in all likelihood, this is a bad idea and would never work. But by this time, it's like a game of Space Invaders. I have my defenses up, but every text message she drops eats away a little bit more of my shield.

Fortunately, I am able to ward off the attack. I get like a text message a day for the next three or four days. Not responding to half of them. Then this past Saturday night, I get this message:

"I have cool whip..."

Again, what the crap? How completely random!
I respond with: "OK?"
Then I recieve: "Sorry. I thought you liked cool whip."
That was followed last night with "Is there anything I can do to get you back into my life?"

No... I don't think so.

I get yet another message this afternoon. To me, if you need to text more than two or three times, you might as well call. So I finally text her back and tell her I'm tired of texting, and that if she needs to talk she can call. After all, I do consider her a friend. And actually, I could totally hang out with her, but I know that she would want more. And I wouldn't.

But then I start to think. Someone baring their soul can sometimes do that to you. I start to re-evaluate everything. Maybe there's something I missed. Who feels this way about me. I'll be 33 years old in twelve days. Never been married. No kids. Maybe it could work...

No... No... It couldn't...

Anyway, that's the last I heard from her. She hasn't called. Which is probably good. My shield is almost completely gone. And I could be running out of quarters.

"And the tears come streaming down your face. When you lose something you can't replace. And you love someone but it goes to waste. Could it be worse?"

That flash before your eyes thing

Reports of my demise are greatly slightly exaggerated...

This is the blog entry that almost wasn't. From the blogger who still is. After the accident that almost did. But somehow didn't. Got that?

My Friday night was just starting. I was on my way to shoot pool around 7 PM. I had just turned north onto Danville Road from Moadus when it happened. Or almost happened. Now, although an ASCII diagram would probably be better to illustrate my story, I'll just try and use words to describe it. Actually, what would be really cool would be if I had one of those NASCAR in-car cameras and could just stream the video online for you. Not that I know how to stream video. But anyway...

Danville Road is five lanes at this point. For the purpose of this story, I have numbered the lanes 1 thru 5, from west to east. The two southbound lanes are lanes 1 and 2. Lane 3 is the turn lane. And the two northbound lanes are 4 and 5. I am in the far right lane, from my vantage point, lane 5. I had just passed two slower cars to my left, in lane 4. And I would guess that I was going 45-50 mph at this time. It's hard to say, since I don't often do a speedometer check. As evidenced by my four traffic tickets (although only two were for speeding) and a few warnings. But, I digress.

The next series of events takes place in the span of probably ten to fifteen seconds. Just as I get past these two cars, a large white truck no doubt carrying some idiot rednecks pulls out right in front of me from one of the side roads to my right. It is apparently turning left to go south. But I guess the driver sees me and then just stops, but is completely blocking my lane. I don't have time to stop.

I think about my fish. Who will feed Pablo when I'm gone? Who will dance for him?

My instinct and only option is to swerve into the other lane to try and avoid the truck. Somehow I manage to do that. But I quickly realize that the sharpness of the turn coupled with my speed has my car on the verge of being out of control. I try to correct, but it's too late. The back end of my car is coming around to the right. And I start to skid down lanes 3 and 4.

I think about Frolf. And how even if I live, I might be mangled and never be able to play.

It is at this point that I think of the one and only thing I remember from Drivers Ed: Steer into the direction of the skid. So I do. But I overcorrect. Now the rear of my car comes around to the left side, and I am sliding drivers-door-first down a fairly busy street at 7:00 on a Friday night.

I think about 24. And how I'll never know if Jack gets Walt. And will Chloe ever trust men again? And what about the first lady. What's going to happen to her?

Now, not only am I skidding drivers-side-first down lanes 4 and 5, but my car also seems to be slowly veering towards the curb. Which also means road signs, mailboxes, and utility poles.

I think about my blog. Who will let my blog friends know I'm gone? Then, I think that over time, everyone will leave many comments asking if I'm OK. And then when someone finally posts a comment letting everyone know what happened... it would be my most-commented post ever!

I have already begun steering the other way, into the direction of this skid. Suddenly, my car turns all the way around, doing a complete 180, and coming to rest. At last. Except that as it spun around, it crossed the entire highway and has come to rest in the middle of lanes 1 and 2. So at this point, my car is stopped, pointed towards the west side of the road. Right in front of oncoming traffic! I look up to see cars in both lanes bearing down on me!

I think about the things that have flashed thru my mind. My fish. Frolf. 24. My blog. If these are the first things I think of, what does that say about my life? Maybe I should just sit here. Close my eyes. And see what happens.

Anyway, back to the story. Again, all this happened in the span of maybe fifteen seconds. So I look up and see two sets of headlights coming towards me as I'm sitting still. Fortunately, my car is still running. So I do the only thing I can think of. I cut the wheels all the way to the left and I lloor it. Amazingly, no one hits me. And I don't hit anything. I turn into the first place I see, which just happens to be a church parking lot. I stop the car. My hands are shaking. I just sit there for a moment to recover.

OK, I didn't really think about all those things. Actually, I think pretty much my only thought was: Don't die, don't die, don't die. Because living is good. And dying... not as good.

I never saw the white truck again. In retrospect, I was just thinking, there had to be several witnesses to the "wreck that wasn't." Wonder how one would go about getting in touch with such people. Because I would give anything to meet the driver of that truck.

You know, just to let him know that I'm OK ;-)

"My friends all grew up, and they settled down. In nice little houses on the outskirts of town. They work in their office. Tnd drive SUV's. They pray for their babies, and they worry 'bout me..."

The Winter of Bone

(from Episode 156, "The Summer of George")
George: "I'm really going to do something with these three months."
Jerry: "Like what?"
George: "I'm gonna read a book From beginning to end. In that order."
Jerry: "I've always wanted to do that."
George: "And I'm gonna play frolf."
Jerry: "You mean golf?"
George: "No, Frolf. Frisbee golf, Jerry. Golf, with a frisbee. This is gonna be my time. Time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down my chin. proclaim this, the summer of George!"

I went running yesterday. There were several hotties walking/running in the park as well. Mentioned this to a friend of mine yesterday and she asked, "Did you pick up your pace and display perfect posture until you were safely out of their sight?" Well, of course! And I thought I was the only person who did that.

But enough about running and hotties and dodging old ladies walking. On to the important stuff. As I made my way around the second turn of the track, I noticed something new in the meadow. I suspected what it might be. But I wasn't for sure. (If you're thinking a special doggie surprise right about now, well good guess. But no, not this time.) As I continued running, I noticed others. And they were all numbered! I made a mental note of the objects. Then today, I googled what I thought them to be. And this is what I found:



Do you have any idea what this is? Any idea!? That's right my friends. Just as I suspected. It's Frolf! Frisbee golf! They've put up an 18 hole course! Here! In my town! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I'm bursting, Jerry! I'm bursting!

I wonder if there's a league, or if anyone can play. I've got to call and find out. I want to get up a game. Not this weekend though, I need a day or two to decompress. Get one of those recliners with a mini-fridge built in the side. Maybe The White Shadow will be on tonight.

Welcome, my friends, to the winter of Bone...

"Daddy was a veteran, a southern Democrat. They oughta get a rich man to vote like that..."

Emptiness you can never fill

I've never written much about my grandparents. Just wrote a small bit here. Wanted to write a bit more.

I was 19, in college, and still living at home. I had been out one night, I think it was a weeknight, so it wasn't too late. When I came home, I noticed that my mother's car wasn't home, which was odd for 9 or 10 o'clock at night during the week. As I reached the foot of the stairs, Dad opened the front door and told me my grandmother, my mother's mother, had passed away. I was stunned. Mom, the eighth of twelve children, had left to go be with her brothers and sisters.

She was my last living grandparent. And now she was gone. I think I walked around in a daze the rest of the night, and probably the next day. I didn't want to go to school anymore. I didn't care about much of anything for a few weeks. She was 77. But it was still unexpected. She hadn't been sick. And I never got a chance to say goodbye. That's the worst.

Mamaw never learned to drive. She outlived my grandfather by almost sixteen years, but never remarried. Never even thought about even seeing anyone else. For the last several years of her life, she lived alone in a tiny two bedroom house in the country, where her mother had lived. And yet despite having no car, somehow managed to get by. The story goes that a tornado had picked the little house up and set it back down several feet from it's foundation, otherwise unharmed for the most part.

There was a small pond on someone else's property, just down the drive and across an electric fence, which shocked me at least twice. I learned to fish there, using raw bacon or bologna for bait. The pond iced over once and my cousin and I wanted to "skate" out on it, but were scared we'd fall thru. My uncle told us it was solid and that he could drive a truck out on the ice. We never chanced it though. He came in later wet from the waist down, and I was glad we hadn't.

I liked spending the night there. But I did it far too seldom. During the summertime, Mom would take my sister and I and we'd go pick up Mamaw and take her out to breakfast. Those were some of my favorite times. It seems to me that grandparents and grandchildren often just naturally form an alliance. If I was in trouble with Mom or Dad, I could always count on Mamaw to say something like "Leave the boy alone." It's sad to lose that.

When I was a junior in high school, I was dating a girl a year older than me from a nearby school. She invited me to her senior prom. This was the same girl that I used to only ask out every other weekend, because I'd skip lunch and save up my lunch money for two weeks to pay for our dates. I blogged about it once. Can't find it now. My parents seemed to be struggling at this time. And me? I was cleaning up. $3.80 an hour. ("Isn't that the new minimum wage?" "And now you know who to thank.") Mom took me to Mamaw's and made me ask her if I could borrow money to rent a tux. I am sure I thanked her. Can't remember ever paying her back.

Suddenly this feels too personal. At the funeral, I was a pallbearer. Even at 19, I felt like a kid still. I wanted to cry so bad, but the tears would never come. Not sure why. I think I was still stunned about the whole thing. As the saying goes, it hadn't hit me yet. Nowadays I visit her grave. Alone. At least once a year. Sometimes more. I've learned that the tears will come when they come. Often when I visit, I'll start talking to her. As if she were standing there. Just about life in general. How much I miss her. The wind picks up. The leaves rustle... Maybe I'm just talking to the wind. Whatever. It helps.

For several years, I would have dreams about her. As I mentioned in the other post, to this day, I still remember her phone number. When I think that all my grandparents are gone, it deeply saddens me. I know many people have suffered more losses than I. I still have my parents. My sister. All my close friends. I hope if you still have grandparents living that you will treasure them. What I'd give for one more day... I could write more. But this is enough. For now.

I can still remember so many of the things I felt standing there that night, at the foot of the stairs. I felt robbed. Of so much. I was shocked. I felt it was so unfair that I never got to say goodbye. Most of all, I felt empty.

Almost fourteen years later... nothing ever fills up that space.

"If heaven was a town it would be my town, on a summer day in 1985. When everything I wanted was out there waiting. And everyone I loved was still alive..."

Bone Trivia

Got this fun little thing from InterstellarNewlywed.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Bone!

1. Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than Bone. Um, I wish.
2. Bone can drink over 25 gallons of water at a time. I was with you up until "water." Sun Drop, maybe.
3. Julius Caesar wore a laurel wreath to cover up Bone. Laurel? That's a good wreath. Evergreen. Real men wear laurel.
4. A chimpanzee can learn to recognize itself in a mirror, but Bone can not. Big deal! Must be Koko the monkey.
5. Boneocracy is government by Bone. Well duh!
6. During severe windstorms, Bone may sway several feet to either side! I am flexible.
7. By tradition, a girl standing under Bone cannot refuse to be kissed by anyone who claims the privilege. A girl standing under Bone? Eh, why ask why?
8. You should always open Bone at least an hour before drinking him.
9. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and Bone has 7! Yes, but I make up for it in other areas.
10. Bone has often been found swimming miles from shore in the Indian Ocean. This is completely true, although I have absolutely no recollection of it.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

"So what are you doing back? Well, I sat back and thought about the things we used to do. It really meant a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I really mean that much to you? Girl, you know it's true."

Five Guilty Pleasures

Saw this on Veronika's blog. It's the Five Guilty Pleasures Meme. The rules: Simple list or write an entry about five of your guilty pleasures. Then choose five other bloggers to tag.

I thought this sounded like a good idea. I started out thinking about this: What exactly is a guilty pleasure? I looked around on the net, but wasn't really able to find a clear, exact definition. I consider a guilty pleasure to be something you enjoy, but feel like you shouldn't, or are a bit ashamed or embarrassed that you enjoy it. So, based on that from Bonester's Unofficial Unwritten Dictionary, here goes:

1. Cheesy music - No matter if it's "Ice Ice Baby" or "Tubthumpin" or "Bust a Move." If some cheesy, over-played song comes on the radio, I turn it up and (almost) unashamedly sing along. I sing it loud. I sing it proud. And then there are my CD's. Michael Jackson. Beastie Boys. Duran Duran. And then there's my Milli Vanilli cassette. And some days it's all I can do not to reach for this.

2. South Park - I know it's wrong. And I don't watch it as much as I used to. But these little foul-mouthed cartoon kids are frickin' funny. I don't see how they get away with some of the things they do and say on this show. This is one of the two or three shows on TV that will cause me to literally laugh out loud.
<@:-) (clown hat-curly hair-smiley face)

3. Naps - There is almost nothing I like better than being able to come home from work, take off my clothes... where was I going with this? Oh yes! And crawl into bed and sleep for an hour or two. Pure subconscious euphoria.

4. American Idol - This is so embarrassing, as I despise most every reality show. It's crap. I have never watched a single episode of Survivor. I don't even like to watch that much TV, period. But I got hooked on AI last year. The judges really do make this show. I'm hoping I won't get sucked into it this year. But I'm weak. I already watched most of last Tuesdays show.

5. And last, but certainly not least...



Yep, that's your big boy there. Whoppers Malted Milk Balls. Don't give me that little 1.75 oz. baby bag. I want the big milk carton full. Fourteen ounces, babee! Such sweet, chocolatey, mouthwatering goodness. Whew. Suddenly I'm feeling a little flush.

Just missing out on the top five: Romantic comedies, Saved By The Bell reruns, and seeing perennial losers (in sports) continue to lose.

Feel free to do this meme on your blog, or leave your five in the comments. I usually don't tag anyone, but I will this time. I'm tagging:
Carnealian
Lindsy
Uisce
MappyB
And Sherry, since she always tags me ;-)

"I get knocked down, but I get up again. And you're never gonna keep me down..."

Pretty In Pink?

I have put up a Super Bowl Poll on the sidebar. And it would thrill me more than it really should if you'd vote on that. I am really a bit torn, as both teams I was rooting for Sunday won. Anyway, on with today's post...

I wore my pink shirt to work for the first time today. So I'm at the drive-thru at Hardees this morning. Before she hands me my food, the lady at the window says, "I'm gonna tell you like I told another guy the other day..." At this point, I'm thinking I've been rude or violated some previously unknown rule of drive-thru etiquette. She continues, "You look really handsome in that pink shirt."

Ah, just what I needed. Nothing like a little hetero affirmation from the opposite sex to start off the week.

So then I get to work, and I'm on the phone with BE. I tell her I'm wearing the shirt. She says, "Thinking of you in that shirt and your black jacket... I just got a little turned on." I respond with my best Joey Tribiani, "How you doin'?"

Then I see Big Sweaty, and he says something about it. Something like, "I like your pink shirt. I come from a time where you wouldn't dare leave the house in a pink shirt."

Thinking here... But you'd put one on and dance around the kitchen in it? Then he seems to contradict himself:

"I've had my share of pink shirts down thru the years. They always get compliments from the ladies."

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling so hot about the morning compliment that I had just received. Anyhow, since that, two ladies at work have complimented it. So it's not yet 11:00 AM and I've had five people say something about my shirt. Four of them women. What is this phenomenon?

In other news, I dreamed about Opryland last night. I received a comment on my old Opryland Nostalgia post yesterday, and I think that's why I dreamed it. I was there with someone, a girl, but I can't remember who. We rode the Grizzly River Rampage, and then walked over to Chaos. I said something to her about how it never worked right when I rode it. And I don't think we rode it.

And, my new favorite show comes on tonight!!

And... oh, I guess that's all. No, wait. All this shirt talk reminds me of this little exchange from Seinfeld:

George: "Let me ask you something. What do you think of this shirt?"
Reporter: "It's nice."
George: "Jerry said he didn't like it."
Jerry: "I didn't say I didn't like it. I said it was OK."
George: "No, you said you didn't like it!"
Jerry: "Well, so what if I don't like it. Is that like the end of the world or something?"

"Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man..."

Cuts (and more?)

Moving to a new city, there are certain changes to your daily, weekly, or monthly routine that are almost inevitable. New coffee shop. New place to go running. New bank. Or at least new branch. And on and on. These might seem insignificant, but can take a little getting used to, at the least.

Moving here, I had to find a new place to get my hair cut. I had started going to one place here with a couple of really hot girls. Isn't that the first thing you look for? But, alas, it went out of business. And I don't know where they ended up. So one day I ventured into another place in town, located in a small plaza, just between a drug store and tax service. I had called ahead to see if they accepted walk-ins, and the lady assured me they did.

As I walked in, a quick scan of the place revealed two ladies and two men working there. Before I got three steps in the door, one of the men, who was sitting in his chair, got up and asked, "Can I help you?" Now, let me insert here, that I have not had my hair cut by a man since... I don't even remember when. I think I must have been in my late teens or early twenties. It's been years. But honestly, I didn't think that much about it. After all, it's just a haircut. I'm just getting a trim to test out this place. Oh, if I'd only known...

So sitting there, I placed my arms on the armrests of the chair, he draped that big hair shield over me, and I'm ready to go. As I continued to observe, a couple of NAW mothers (Non-Acronym Worthy) brought their kids in and were sitting just across the room from me waiting their turn. The kids were probably seven or eightish. I really don't know. My point is, I would classify this as a family place.

Anyhow, as many hair stylists tend to be I suppose, this guy was a chatter. And as there was a hair dryer going and clippers and such, he was having to talk rather loudly. The conversation somehow turned to Nashville, and he began to tell about the time that he and his wife and two friends of theirs went to a strip club there. So he is telling this story about what happened. I don't even remember now. But I'm sitting there thinking, "Isn't this a little bit inappropriate in front of children?" So I don't say much, and try to change the subject at the first opportunity.

Then, a couple of minutes later, it happened. He comes around to my right side, and somehow his midsection comes to rest snuggly against my right arm. I freeze! As luck would have it, the height of the chair perfectly(?) combined with his height to make this situation absolutely as awkward as possible. How do I get myself into these situations? Will somebody please tell me?

As you can imagine, I'm very uncomfortable right about now. Getting a haircut is a rather stationary, still activity anyway. But at this point, I'm not even sure whether or not I'm still breathing. I don't want to jerk away immediately, because then he'll know I'm uncomfortable. And that would just make it doubly awkward. Besides, maybe he's not uncomfortable at all. Maybe he hasn't even given it a second thought. Then I think, maybe he's a little too comfortable. Yikes! Mommy!

So he stands there, pressed up against me for what felt like (is that the best phrase to use here?) several thousand extremely awkward non-hetero hours. But was probably, in reality, fifteen or twenty seconds. I'm still frozen stiff, like a customer in a barber shop wax museum. Finally, at long last, he moved. Away from my arm, that is. And I was able to exhale, and gradually ease my arms off the armrests and into my lap, where I knew they would be much safer.

Again, I'm used to having girls give me hair cuts. When they rub up against me, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I actually rather enjoy it. I prefer it. But this was different. This just left me feeling... violated.

Perhaps they need a warning sign like they have at amusement park rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the chair at all times.

So I'm thinking of letting my hair grow out. At least until I can ensure an environment with a female to male ratio of X:0. Where X is a variable, representing the number of females, and 0 is a constant, representing the number of males.

"I'm open, you're closed. Where I follow, you'll go. I worry I won't see your face light up again..."

Thursday Thirteen: Numero Seis

Thirteen lessons and discoveries from the past week (and other thoughts)...

1. I really like 24. I watched it for the first time Sunday night, partly because Fox was hyping it like a Blue Oyster Cult reunion special or something. Anyhow, I plan on watching it, if I can remember to each week.

2. American Idol also began this week. I honestly don't watch much TV, and especially not reality shows. I can't believe I got into watching it last year. But it can be addictive. Not sure if I'm going to do my weekly AI reviews again this year. As sad as it is, those were the first posts where I started consistently getting more than 3 or 4 comments.

3. Buying a pre-packaged ham & cheese sandwich at a Pilot store off the interstate at 2:00 in the morning just because you haven't eaten anything solid in thirteen hours is not always a good idea.

4. Sometimes friends will not tell you things like "The expiration date on that is 2005" if they think something funny or cool might happen.

5. This is quite possibly the most boring game on the face of the Earth. I'd rather shave my entire body with no shaving cream then bathe in alcohol. If you're at a party, and someone pulls out this game, make up an excuse and flee. Trust me. Fortunately, the Broncos/Pats game was on TV. That was the only thing keeping me from blowing my brains out.

6. Girls who like watching football. And actually know what's going on. That at least doubles their hotness factor to me.

7. I have a friend whose life story has apparently been made into a movie, Failure To Launch. About a guy who lives with his parents way too long. Tag line: "To leave the nest, some men just need a little push." Can't wait until this one comes out.

8. Two words for you: Rocky 6! Perhaps they should rename it Rocky 60, as in Sylvester Stallone's age. I love the Rocky movies. Is that just a guy thing? Kinda like the Three Stooges?

9. One of my favorite Seinfeld bits is Kramer's moviephone thing: "Using your touch-tone keypad, please enter the first three letters of the movie title now... Why don't you just tell me the name of the movie you've selected?" Hilarity!

10. I rediscovered an old guilty pleasure of mine this week, playing Scrabble online at games.com. Best words? Internal, fiz, lava, and zoon.

11. I have actually watched part of the World Scrabble Championships on ESPN.

12. I've never bought a gym membership. Perhaps for the same reason I don't have a tattoo. Too much of a commitment.

13. In 3 weeks, and 3 days, I will be 33. And single. Unless something unforeseen occurs :-)

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. Carnealian
2. Veronika
3. Renee
4. Uisce
5. Colleen
6. Courtney
7. (leave your link in the comments, and I'll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It's easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

"Life ain't always beautiful. Some days I miss your smile. And I get tired of walkin' all these lonely miles..."

(Pseudo) Weekend Recap

Someone suggested that I follow my most recent post with something lighthearted. So I decided to recap my very busy weekend, reprising a feature we like to call Bone's Pseudo Weekend Recap.

Friday, I was at the CDC all day. (Insert funny comment about my rash here.) For those of you unfamiliar with this term, CDC stands for the Centers for Disease Control. Except I wasn't at their DC headquarters. They have an underground annex at NORAD. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, NORAD stands for... No... Overseas... uh... Actually, you know what? I believe that's all classified information. So I had to fly to Colorado. I had volunteered to be the first human test patient for a new bird flu vaccine. It wasn't too bad. And there's only about a 30% chance that it could actually develop into full blown bird flu. Easiest fifty bucks I ever made.

Saturday, I spent most of the day at Cape Canaveral. NASA enlisted me as an advisor on the Pluto mission. The way they see it, landing a space probe on Pluto is pretty much like hitting a sparrow with a bottle rocket. And since I'm one of the few people who's actually done just that, they asked for my input. By the way, you didn't hear this from me, but don't get your hopes up on this whole thing. You might have heard the launch was postponed yesterday. Why? It was windy. And you can't accurately shoot bottle rockets when it's windy. Trust me.

And finally on Sunday, I participated in my first ever NFL game, filling in for one of the Indianapolis Colts offensive linemen. It was great fun mixing it up with the Steeler guys play after play. Kimo von Oelhoffen, Joey Porter, and those guys. Joey even pulled the old "Hey, is that Jennifer Aniston" trick on me. I can't believe I fell for that one. You know how it goes. As I'm standing there peering into the stands looking to catch a glimpse of Jen, he blows past me to sack our quarterback, Peyton Manning. And I'm sure you heard what our quarterback said after the game. Something to the effect of, "I'm trying to be a good teammate here... let's just say we had some problems with protection." Hey, prima donna! I'm not the one with the 3-6 career playoff record! Maybe you can get your daddy to force the Colts to trade your entire offensive line. Besides, I'm only 185 pounds. Plus, I think I might be coming down with something. Give me a break.

As you can see, it was quite the weekend. All this, not to mention my continuing responsibilities and duties as a key member of Team Aniston.

"I was dreaming when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray..."

Miss Nona

In the town where I was raised, a quiet two-lane road leads away from the town square on the west side. Within two blocks, what few businesses there are give way to houses. The asphalt is faded now so that its much nearer to white than its original black. Small houses dot each side of the road all the way out to the four-lane. About the only exception is the local park, whose ball fields come to life in the springtime with t-ball, baseball, softball, and soccer games and practices.

Almost unnoticed now, if not forgotten, is an old abandoned white concrete building which sits on the left side of the road just before you reach the park entrance. For the first two-thirds of my life, that was Miss Nona's store.

Miss Nona was a rather short older lady who, best I can remember, always had a tall bouffant-like hairdo, and almost always had a smile on her face. There were two gas pumps in front of the store, and as long as she was able, she'd come out and offer to pump your gas. The inside featured an old-fashioned top-opening drink cooler. You'd slide the door open, reach down inside and pull out your favorite soft drink, in a glass bottle. There was a bottle opener built into the side of the cooler. Some of my earliest memories of the little country store are of running across the field after baseball practice and buying a Gatorade. Or before practice to buy some Big League Chew.

Miss Nona lived in a house right next to the store, and would open up for business before daylight. She ran the store all by herself the majority of the time. She was there open to close. For many years, she sold biscuits in the mornings. And around lunch, she would slice up stick bologna and hoop cheese and make sandwiches. It seems like she was always busy doing something around the store. If there were no customers to tend to, she might be sweeping up, inside or out. Or stocking the shelves. I asked her for a job once when I turned 16, but she said she couldn't afford to hire any help.

I recall my Dad telling me about the time some man tried to rob her. I don't remember all of the details now. I remember it happened early one morning when no other customers were there. Short story shorter. She kept a shotgun under the counter. Fired a warning shot or two. And no one ever tried to rob the store again. I love that story.

Seems like my parents had always known Miss Nona. Although, looking back, I guess they only knew her from the store. More than once, during somewhat hard times, I remember Miss Nona would let my Dad buy bread, milk, and anything else we needed on credit. Just to get thru until payday, when he would pay her back.

Maybe because she knew my parents, I always felt safe when I was there. I liked to think that she'd treat me like one of her own grandkids. Although she probably would've treated any young person that well.

As I got older, I'd stop by on my way to work for a snack. My usual was a honey bun and a little Coca-Cola. I remember one day not long after I started driving, I stopped by to get gas. I would never let her pump my gas. So when I was done, I went inside to pay, and came back out to discover that I had locked my keys in the car. First time that had ever happened to me, and I was a bit distressed. She, undoubtedly, had seen this situation many times. Brought a straightened wire hanger out and had my door unlocked in seconds. I don't remember if I ever thanked her for that. I hope I did.

Time gets thin. And as Miss Nona got older, she started closing the store a little earlier in the evenings. And then she stopped opening at all on Saturdays. And eventually, although I can't remember when, she closed the store for good. Miss Nona had always looked exactly the same to me, for all the years I had known her. Except for the one time that I saw her after the store closed. I had heard that she was having some health problems. And she looked twenty years older than I remembered her.

No one ever reopened the little country store. Someone put a fish market in the building for a short while. But even that's been gone for years now. When the town grew, it did so on the east side. All the new fast food restaurants, and convenience stores, the Wal-Mart Supercenter, and other businesses, opened there. The west side of town has just kind of been forgotten.

Today, little stores like that one have become scarce. Big money and chain stores eventually put the little man, and woman, out of business. They call it progress. Feels more like we lost something to me. Miss Nona is no longer here. Although I can't remember when she passed. The memories of that little country store, like the highway that runs past it, fade a little more each day.

Most of us will never achieve widespread fame. If you consider that an achievement. But to be remembered fondly by those whose paths we crossed years after we are gone. To have touched someone's life, even in a small way. That's something.

I suppose there have been thousands of little country stores in the world. Thousdands of Miss Nona's.

But to me, there will only ever be one.

"Don't you remember the fizz in a Pepper. Peanuts in a bottle, at 10, 2, and 4. A fried baloney sandwich, with mayo and tomato..."

A night at the Tetanus 8

I went to see Munich last night. In order to avoid any buffer zone problems, I stood at the rear of the theater waiting for my friend. Then before going to sit down, I quietly and inconspicuously said, "Skip a seat... little buffer zone." With the requisite buffer zone in place, I was able to focus on the movie. It was pretty good. And even though it must have been at least two and a half hours, it kept my interest.

The movie was at the older of the two theaters in town, often referred to as the Tetanus Cinemas, or the Tetanus 8. This is due to years of butter, spilled soft drinks, bodily fluids, and no telling what else caked up on the seats. It's quite the theatrical experience. I cringe when I find out that a movie I want to see is playing there. However, last night, the seats actually appeared to be somewhat cleaner than I remember. Perhaps they've done some sandblasting recently.

There was one ticket-taker and one person working at the concession stand. I got some popcorn with butter. The butter was barely coming out of the dispenser, just a tiny little clump at a time. I tried not to think about it. It reminded me of the Seinfeld episode where Kramer restores the Alex theater, and there's one old hot dog left in the container there from when the theater was open before. Yeah, that's what it reminded me of. Anyhow, then I asked for napkins, and was told, "Uhh, we sort of ran out of napkins. So we're using paper towels." I look and see one roll of paper towels sitting at the end of the counter. And it's the plain brown paper like you find in restrooms sometimes. With no perforations. So I have to pick up the roll and tear off these uneven pieces the best I can. Nice.

I didn't get home until around 11:00. Wanted to fix something light for supper, so I decided on a sandwich. All my refrigerated sandwich meat was iffy at best on whether or not it was still good. So I opened a can of potted meat. Not sure if this is mostly a southern thing or not, but it's only like thirty cents a can and is tasty, if unhealthy, on sandwiches and crackers. A definite bachelor staple!

Woke up this morning to the sound of pouring rain (just thought of that Skid Row song) and thunder. I lied in bed a little longer than normal, waiting for the thunder to subside before I showered, because of something my dad told me when I was little. He told me never to be in the bathtub when it's storming outisde, because lightning can run in thru the pipes, or is attracted to water, or something. So for years, I wouldn't shower if it was thundering. And if I had to, I would stand at the back of the tub away from the water to soap up, and only get under the water to rinse off for just a few seconds. One day I realized that I had never heard of a single person who was struck by lightning while in the shower. Still a little hesitant about it though.

Two of my favorites have birthdays today, Julia Louis-Dreyfus is 45. Thought about posting some of my favorite Elaine quotes or storylines. But that would be an entire post in itself. She's great in "The Chinese Restaurant." And "The Pick," of course. Also love her in "The Opposite" when she tells Jerry, "Can't you see what's happened? I've become George. It's true. I'm George!"

And Nicole Eggert is 34. She played the role of two of my favorite television characters of all-time. Yes, she was Summer on Baywatch. But I liked her even better as Jamie on Charles In Charge.

Have a great weekend! (And don't act like you don't luh 'dis lyric...)

"Charles in charge of our days and our nights. Charles in charge of our wrongs and our rights..."

Thank you. No, thank you.

As a bachelor, I have been told that I get a "free pass," so to speak, on certain rules of etiquette and other things. Things like, "No one expects all your serving bowls to match." Or "They don't expect you to get a gift for their new baby." Or "You're a guy. It's OK if you don't have a single thing hanging on your walls."

While I readily admit I don't know half of the Dear-Abby-Heloise-Miss-Manners rules of life, I do make an attempt. I send out Christmas cards each year. Do (nearly) all of my own shopping for gifts. And I almost always get a wedding gift when I get an invitation in the mail. However, some bits of etiquette and politeness I just do not understand. To wit...

I have received two thank you cards in the mail from people, both female, with whom I exchanged Christmas gifts this year.

I don't get it.

Thank you cards are fine for graduation gifts, wedding gifts. Or I suppose anytime someone gets you something and you don't get them anything. But we exchanged gifts. My gift to them was my thank you for their gift. And vice versa. We're even.

Except not now.

Now I owe them a thank you card?

And what's next, a "you're welcome" card? And then a "please, it was my pleasure" card? Or what about a "thank you for your thank you card" card? When does it end? I think the entire thank you card industry has gotten out of hand.

And then I started wondering if there might be someone out there that I offended by not sending a thank you card? Probably. Somewhere there's probably two people who haven't talked in years simply because one did not get a thank you card from the other. You think?

I'm sorry. It's just too much.
So I think I'm going to take my bachelor free pass on this one.
Do not go to Hallmark.
Do not spend two dollars.

The title of this post reminded me of an episode of Married... With Children. I think it's the one where Al moves the family into the supermarket. He's walking behind some hottie, taking items off the shelf, and dropping them behind her so she'll have to bend over and pick them up:

Al: "Oh Miss. I think you dropped your corn."
Scantily clad babe: "Oops! Thank you."
Al: "Thank you."
Al: "Oh Miss. You dropped your flea fogger."
Babe: "Oops. Thanks again."
Al: "No. Thank you."
Al: "Bud, here's something men do. Quick, get me something... Excuse me, Miss. You dropped your... uhh... eggs."

"Mister Jones and me, tell each other fairy tales. We stare at the beautiful women. She's lookin' at you. Naw, naw, she's lookin' at me..."

You have to feel my pants

Thought of three more quirky things to add to my list from a few weeks ago.

I have a small television in my bedroom. When you adjust the volume, a bar appears on the screen and expands as you turn up the volume. Along with the bar, a number appears, indicating the volume level. Depending on what channel it's on and whether I'm actually watching or just needing some noise to fall asleep to, I normally keep the volume between 20 and 30. But never on 26. Never. I always change it to 25 or 27. Why? Because 26 is a multiple of 13. I also would never leave the volume on 13 or 39. I don't have a problem watching channel 13, or 26, or 39, or 52, etc. But the volume can't come to rest on any of those numbers. Or something bad could will happen.

Over the weekend, a couple of people informed me that one of the brake lights was out on my car. This may not seem like a big thing. And apparently isn't to some people whom I've almost hit because they have no working brake lights whatsoever. Or turn signals apparently. But, I digress. Anytime a light is out on my car, I have to replace it. Immediately. Until I do, everytime I am driving, it just eats away at me like a buzzard eating away at a carcass in the desert. I think people must think what a loser this guy is to have a light out. Everyone notices it. And they are thinking or talking about it. Trust me. So I went and bought a replacement bulb and put it in yesterday. That's actually about two days longer than I would normally wait.

And lastly, in wintertime, I sometimes like to heat up the clothes I'm going to wear to bed in the dryer for just a couple of minutes before putting them on. (Was it really necessary to indicate that I heat them up before I put them on?) It's actually quite delightful. I suggest you try it. This idea, as many of you may know (or could easily assume), came directly from Seinfeld.

(From "The Calzone")
Kramer: "Elaine, you have to feel my pants."
Elaine: "I'll see ya later."

Jerry: "You got your shirt in my oven?"
Kramer: "I didn't have any quarters for the dryer. Anyway, this is better. And it's more convenient."
Jerry: "For both of us."
Kramer: "And I have a lot more control. I have one shirt going for ten minutes, at 325 degrees."

"I know I'll go thru hell, girl, when you find someone else. But right now I'm in heaven, and I can't help myself..."

Word Verification

I'm sure we've all had our difficulties with the Blogger word verification letters. At least I have, sometimes having to try two or three times before I get them right. I wonder if the word verification letters are generated automatically, or if Blogger hires someone to manually come up with them. For the purpose of this post, I'm going to pretend it's the latter...

Pseudo-serious beer commercial voice:
"Today we salute you, Mister Word-Verification-Maker-Upper."

(80's-pop-sounding-voice singing: "Mister Word Verification Maker Uppuhhh...")

"Hour after hour, you tirelessly toil at your trusty qwerty keyboard, carefully coming up with endless combinations of four to ten letters that don't make up actual words."

(Singing: "No real wuhhhds...")

"Sure, you could have used that two year business degree to work in an office somewhere, making coffee and running errands. But no."

(Singing: "His nose isn't browwwn...")

"Instead, you chose this thankless task, taking full advantage of your one hundred thirty words per minute typing skills."

(Singing: "He types so faaast...")

"So crack open a cold one, O Eradicator of Comment Spam. And the next time we find the word verification letters a little hard to read, we'll remember you're just keeping spam at bay."

(Singing: "Super duper eradicator...")

"I wonder what you're doing. Imagine where you are. There's oceans in between us, but that's not very far..."

The Thin Red Hetero Line

Finally added a "Selected Posts" section to the sidebar. Will probably add some different ones to it from time to time. Also, be sure to check out T's post today. A good week for the Crimson Tide.

Someone described me the other day as "the sensitive, straight male, who knows everything there is to know about Seinfeld and football, and eats at the Cracker Barrel, and is forever trying to figure out what girls like, and what girls might like about him."

Considering this person only knows me thru my blog (and several emails), I thought it quite perceptive. A very accurate brief description of Bone. Hope she doesn't mind that I include it here. It also fits in well with today's post.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, I am really not good at shopping. And when I say shopping, I mean purchasing clothes. I don't go to just look. I go with the intent of buying. And normally don't leave until I have bought at least one thing. Maybe that's part of the problem. Really though, it's not that I mind going. I don't. I'm just not good at it.

As a generic example, I could pick out three shirts, which really seem great to me in the store. Buy them. And by the time I get home, I only like one of them. And even that one is only OK. I have closets full of clothes I don't really care for. Perhaps part of the problem is that I never try anything on, unless a girl is with me and encourages makes me. If it's my size, I just assume it will fit. And I rarely take anything back. Until recently, I never realized why when I got home, certain clothes just didn't seem to look right. Now I'm learning. Some shirts are fitted. Some are not. Some hang on me like a tunic. There are different collars. Who knew!

So I have pretty much decided that from now on, I am not going shopping unless I have a girl with me. If she likes it, and I like it, and it fits me well when I try it on, I'll buy it. Simple, three-step shopping. And of course, I reserve my right to invoke my "looks a little too gay" veto powers at anytime.

Changing gears, we went to rent a movie over the weekend. One of my suggestions was Must Love Dogs, because I usually like Cusack's movies. And I tend to like romantic comedies. There. I said it. It's out in the open for all the world to see. Anyway, we ended up renting The Longest Yard. So this presents a bit of a dilemma for me if I want to see the other movie.

As a guy, it's difficult to go see or rent certain types of movies without a girl. Romantic comedies being one. I mean, if it's at the theater, I can't really call up one of the guys and ask him to go with me. And hopefully you don't even have to ask why that is. And going alone to those types of movies would be similar to renting them by myself. Although I have done it before, with Serendipity. It would just be more than a bit odd to walk up to the counter in the movie store with Must Love Dogs, You've Got Mail, and Dying Young. Then again, at least if I rent it, the clerk might think I am taking it home to my girl.

So I guess this is what it has come to. Renting movies under unspoken false pretenses. Maybe TBS will have a John Cusack marathon soon. And there's always Lifetime. I mean, pro football.

"Why can't you do it? Why can't you set your monkey free?"

Thursday Thirteen: 2005

Thirteen memories from 2005, in no particular order...

1. My trip to California in October.

2. Flying for the first time ever, to California.

3. Getting my first massage. (And my second. Third. Fourth...) I'll never forget her... I mean, them.

4. My first-ever Festivus party.

5. Gettin out da hood, and moving to my new fastidious bachelor pad.

6. Going to see Jerry Seinfeld in concert for the second time.

7. Welcomed a new addition to my family, Pablo Picasso. (Thus named because he had no ears. Should have actually been named Van Gogh. But whatever. It makes for a good story.)

8. Going to the beach in May to see that things were not "back to normal" in Gulf Shores. Nothing says beach like jackhammers right outside your window all night long. Thanks again, Bob Riley.

9. Being there to watch Bama crush Florida 31-3. Roll Tide!

10. Being there to watch Bama beat Tennessee. Again, Roll Tide!

11. Going to the George Strait concert in January.

12. Trading in my truck for a car.

13. Getting a new computer. The blog entry that changed my life.

PS: I know at least a couple of my readers are very happy about Texas winning the national championship last night. Congratulations! And today's lyric is in honor of the 'Horns.

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. Uisce
2. Carney
3. Interstellar Lass
4. Audra
5. Sallwood
6. Renee
7. Jennifer
8. (leave your link in the comments, and I'll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It's easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

"Before you lose your accent, and forget all about the Lonestar State. There's a seat for you at the rodeo and I've got every slow dance saved. Besides, the Mexican food sucks north of here anyway..."

Four days with no Bone

Well, I'm back. I think this is probably the longest blog hiatus I've taken since I began blogging back in May 2003. Working on a new blog slogan: "Here at IYROOBTY, I don't write a lot of the blogs you read. I make a lot of the blogs you read seem more interesting." Hmm. Think I'll file that one in the "sometimes things seem a whole lot funnier at midnight than they do in the middle of the day and should not be posted" category.

Hope you all had a fun and safe New Year's weekend. And while I didn't get married, and our celebration didn't feature a toilet breaking completely in two, I did have a great New Year's nonetheless.

I had a guest in town this weekend. She will from hereafter be referred to as BE. We exchanged gifts on Friday evening. Despite my anxiety, I was told that I did a good job on the gifts that I had purchased: Two books, a perfume/lotion set, and a sweater. Was really only concerned about the sweater, but she said she liked it. I was very pleased with the gifts I received. Two shirts, a pair of jeans, and a sweater. I really liked everything. This was my first reminder of the weekend that I really need a woman. I am really not good at shopping for myself. Will probably do a post about that later.

BE, Kyle, and I went to Nashville for New Year's Eve, where we met up with Cassie. The four of us walked around the Opryland Hotel. Then went downtown. Had dinner at Big River Grille. Then ended up at Buffalo Billiards, where we rang in 2006. I've never been big on New Year's, but as New Year's Eves go, this was one of the better ones. Watched football most of the day Sunday. Watched Bama beat Texas Tech in the Cotton Bowl Monday morning, then went shopping. Oh yeah, I just remembered. I set off my car alarm when we got home Sunday morning at nearly 4 AM, because I still haven't figured out all the nuances of the little remote key thingy. Took me a few seconds to turn if off, too, because I... still haven't figured out all the nuances... I'm sure the neighbors love me.

I did have a bathroom etiquette hiccup at Buffalo Billiards. There was a 3 urinal set up. Urinals 1 and 3 were taken and all the stalls were full. Well, I should have just walked out, or stalled over by the sink. Instead, I slid into the middle urinal. Fortunately, just as I unzipped and before it started to flow, the urinator at #3 left his post. So I sveltely slid down to urinal #3. Seconds later, someone set up shop at #2 anyway, so it was all for naught. Still, I must apologize to the urinator at #1. If you are reading this, I am the guy who violated your buffer zone Saturday night around 11:35 PM in the Buffalo Billiards men's room. I was wearing jeans, a light blue shirt, and a black pullover sweater.

I will close by sharing some things I learned this weekend. Actually several of these could be categorized under the heading of "I really need a woman":
- There is a "hidden" carousel cabinet thingy in my kitchen. I've lived in this place four months, never had a clue it was there. She finds it first thing. Just like it's common knowledge that it was there.
- All my cabinet shelves are adjustable. Again, who knew!
- Having a meal cooked for you is a good thing. A very good thing. (Wonder if she knows how this behavior endeared her to me.)
- Girls really notice what shoes you're wearing. As evidence, I came to work today in a new shirt and new shoes. Our secretary walks in, says nothing at all about my shirt, but almost immediately asks, "Did you get some new shoes?"
- I really need a girl with me in order to validate purchasing a pink shirt, which I did on Monday. I need her approval.
- Looking "pimp" is apparently a good thing. Again, who knew!
- After Christmas is the time to shop. I'm sure most of you already knew this.

I also worked "abscond" into a conversation over the weekend. Was entirely too excited about that. Oh, and my aunt called one night while we were driving around. She said, "I just saw an Xbox 360 at Wal-Mart. They only have one. Do you want me to put it on layaway for you?" What the freak? I have never indicated an interest in this. It completely came out of the blue. I think my game console buying days are long over. At least until I have a child. So I said nicely, "No, I don't think I'm gonna buy one of those." I'm single, thin, neat, early thirties. I don't think more video games is the answer. Seriously.

Overall, it was a wonderful weekend. Then again, any weekend when you hear "Ice Ice Baby" more than once can't be too bad. I can't wait to get home and play my Atari Flashback ;-)

Word to ya mother.

"Take heed, cos I'm a lyrical poet. Miami's on the scene, just in case you didn't know it..."