I'm fixin' to blog

One thing I want to try to do more of on here is to share things about the southern lifestyle and growing up in the South. I realize there are lots of things that I do, say, know, think, believe, and experience, many of which aren't common in other parts of the country or the world. But when you've seemingly always known something, or always done things a certain way, it's easy to forget that. It wasn't until just a few years ago that I realized that sweet tea wasn't served nationwide. How do you people live!

One thing I do know is that pecan trees only "make" every other year. Maybe everyone knows that. It's just one of those little bits of information that you pick up somewhere along the way. We have a pecan tree at work. Two years ago, we had bunches of pecans. Last year, just a very, very few. So this year, we're due for a bumper crop, so to speak. Wednesday night, it got very windy here, so I went out yesterday just before I went home to see if there were many pecans. There were! I gathered them until my back began to hurt.

As usual, I came across a few which had already been eaten at by squirrels. It made me wonder if some squirrel wouldn't have enough to eat this winter because I was selfishly taking away its food. Am I interfering with the cycle of nature that God has put in place? Sometimes I wonder silly stuff like that.

When chatting with someone from another part of the country, I try to avoid using certain "southern" words or phrases, such as using "supper" to refer to the last meal of the day. Even though we all know that's what it is. But inevitably, something eventually slips out. A couple of other "southernisms" I've been caught using recently, include:

I'm fixin' to - As in, "I'm fixin' to get ready to go to the store." You might say, "I'm about to get ready to go to the store."

Hunt - As in, "I'm gonna hunt me something for supper." This doesn't usually actually involve the act of pursuing game for food or sport, but is more likely closely related to "I'm gonna try to find me something for supper," probably in a cabinet, refrigerator, or restaurant.

At least I think those are southernisms. Maybe they're just Boneisms. Either way.

In other news, my mother has been sick this week. She's still got her betta that I got her for Mothers Day this year. If you'll recall, I bought Pablo originally for her, but got so attached to him that I had to go back and get her a different one. So last night I was telling her how I've dreamed a few times that Pablo gets out of his tank when I'm changing his water, and ends up on the floor or something. So she's nodding as I'm telling her, and then tells me, "I dream that mine gets out of his tank at night and comes back to the bedroom and starts fighting." Wow! And I thought my fish dreams were weird...

Well, I think I'm fixin' to hunt me up something for lunch. Hope ya'll have a great weekend now, ya hear!

"Misty sunrise in my hometown, rows of cotton, 'bout knee high. Mrs. Baker down the dirt road, still got clothes out on the line..."

Back to being Bone

I just want to share what someone sent to me yesterday...

"Honestly though when you write your own (posts)... THEY ROCK... everyone likes the stories you tell, your humor, your voice... these memes (or whatever they are called) are fine... but we miss you."

I realize that is just one person's opinion, but I appreciate it so much. Compliments are priceless. We all have the ability to brighten someone's day just by a simple, honest compliment. And I need to do more of that. Anyway, I do apologize for all the memes and lists and such lately. My mind seems to be dwelling on the same things. Nothing bad really. Actually, quite the opposite. Just nothing that I am able or ready to blog, at least not yet. Today, I will start trying to get back to being the old familiar Bone. And by old, I mean, young and virile.

But I don't wanna be a pirate...
Let's start off today with the most important news, Seinfeld Seasons 5&6 to be released November 22. AND, the gift set features a puffy shirt collectible! I'm sure that's not going to be an actual-sized shirt. Visualize: Bone sitting around in boxers and puffy shirt, admiring how good the puffy shirt looks.

Tragedy in Port Charles
Am I the only one here who has been watching General Hospital lately? (I think I already know the answer to that.) There was a big train wreck, and like half of Port Charles was on the two trains. Alexis went into labor. Lucky might be dying. Lucky can't die! Can he? There's another new actress playing Carly. It's crazy, and if you can get past the fact that two trains collided head on and not a single person died instantly, quite real :-)

In other news...
The car has been doing fine. I came out of Wal-Mart the other night looking for my truck for just a few seconds before I caught myself. And, the birds seem to have selected my car for target practice this week. They seem to be aiming for the spoiler, and doing a very nice job of it. Probably some sort of revenge for the sparrow incident.

Planning on taking the car on its first trip to Tuscaloosa Saturday. It's the last home game of the year. ESPN GameDay is supposed to be there. I thought about taking a big banner with "LITTLENIBBLER.BLOGSPOT.COM" on it, and trying to get on TV. Watch for me, I'll be the one in crimson ;-) Every Friday this season, a few of us at work have worn our Bama shirts, for luck or whatever. (Hey it's worked so far.) Well, for some reason, when I got up this morning, I was thinking it was Friday, so I wore a Bama shirt today.

Big Sweaty's been sick since last Thursday. So I'm doubling up on my Clorox disinfecting wipes wipe-down each day, and also spraying a quarter-can of antibacterial disinfectant spray. I've also began taking an Airborne each morning before work, trying to avoid catching his disease. The secretary's even gotten in on the act. As soon as he leaves, she goes to every door knob in the building and wipes it down. Wheeeee! The germophobes shall prevail! (Unless he finds my blog, in which case he might sit on me, and I would be crushed to death, or suffer acute asphyxiation under the enormous weight of his extremely heavy, weeble-like body.)

I think this is the most links I've ever included in one entry. Have a great Thursday! Be good to each other...

"Well I don't drink as much as I used to. Lately, it just ain't my style. And the hard times don't hurt like they ought to. They pass quicker, like when I was a child..."

Allow me to seduce you?

Your Seduction Style: Fantasy Lover

You know that ideal love that each of us dreams of from childhood? That's you! Not because you posess all of the ideal characteristics, but because you are a savvy shape shifter. You have the uncanny ability to detect someone's particular fantasy... and make it you. You inspire each person to be an idealist and passionate, and you make each moment memorable. Even a simple coffee date with you can be the most romantic moment of someone's life. By giving your date exactly what he or she desires, you quickly become the ideal lover. Your abilities to make dreams come true is so strong, that you are often the love of many people's lives. Your ex's (and even people you have simply met or been friends with) long to be yours. No doubt you are the one others have dreamed of... your biggest challenge is finding *your* dream lover.

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Well, I don't know about all that. Haha! Not sure exactly how my responses to the eight question quiz led to those results, but it's a nice little fantasy, I guess.

"your biggest challenge is finding *your* dream lover."

Indeed. But they fail to tell me what to do once I have found her...

"She was crazy for you. Now she's part of something that you lost. And for all you know, this could be, the difference between what you need and what you want to be..."

Eat at ??? (Bone's Best Eats)

Lindsy gave me this idea. Some of these are local places, but many are chains. List your favorite restaurants for the following items:

Salad: Olive Garden.

Soup: O'Charley's potato soup. After having been screwed there several times in the past, this is basically their only redeeming quality.

Sandwich: Quizno's. You don't know what you're missing, Jared!

Burger: Logan's Roadhouse. Cheeseburger with swiss, cheddar, and American. Mmmm.

Chicken fingers: Dairy Delite in Hartselle.

Wings: Hooters. Also good "atmosphere" here ;-)

Bread: Not sure if this counts, but Greenbrier's hush puppies. Mmmm!

Appetizer: Loaded cheese fries at Ruby Tuesday. Mmmm again.

Side item: Hashbrown casserole at Cracker Barrell.

BBQ: Famous Dave's. Ribs, chicken, wings, pork. Whatever. It's all the best.

Mexican: Nothing will ever beat Ole La Casa (that means, the old house... I think) in my book. But it closed about ten years ago. They would actually melt real cheese over the food, rather than using the cheese sauce, like everyone else does now. That was what set it apart. Otherwise, nothing really stands out above the rest. Las Vias, where we ate Sunday night, actually was very good, very clean, etc.

Italian: Olive Garden.

Pizza: I've always been a Dominos man. But the Pizza Inn I had a few weeks ago was actually really good. My least favorite is Pizza Hut.

Catfish: Greenbrier.

Seafood: Tim's Cajun Kitchen.

Steak: Western Sirloin in Moulton. Hands down. One of the only places that reliably cook the steak as ordered the first time.

Breakfast: Cracker Barrell.

Fast food: Chik-fil-a.

Dessert: Blackberry cobbler at Cracker Barrell. (I seem to be naming them a lot.)

Favorite overall restaurant: Tim's Cajun Kitchen.

Favorite restaurant out of business: The Sizzler! Steak and malibu chicken. Mmmm!

Anyone else hungry now? Feel free to steal this one, and add more categories if you like.

"Found myself alone, alone, alone above a raging sea, that stole the only girl I loved, and drowned her deep inside of me. You... soft and lonely. You... lost and lonely. You... just like heaven..."

Dear Bone: The Column

I had my first experience with a shrimp burrito tonight at Las Vias. (That means, "the vias." I was Spanish Club president.) So... I don't know.

Today, we're starting a new feature here on If You Read Only One Blog This Year, called "Dear Bone." I got the idea from an email I received from a reader this past week, asking me a question about a subject on which he considered me somewhat of an expert: restroom etiquette. I started thinking that this would be a good feature for the blog. So, if you have questions for me, you can email them to me and I will answer selected questions periodically on my blog. Or, this will be the only one I ever do. Either way. So, here's our first letter:

Dear Bone,

I had an encounter last night and I desperately seek your advice. I was in between classes and, as you might guess, seemingly everyone takes a potty break. There are two restrooms that I can use and I choose to walk about 50 feet further to avoid a crowded restroom and the chance of someone violating Bone's Restroom Etiquette. I walk in and there are a couple of guys who apparently had the same idea.

Nonetheless, there are two stalls and three urinals. I really had to go. I just walked in and turned toward the first urinal next to the wall. As I unzipped, I realized that the guy I passed in the restroom used the same urinal because it was still flushing. I mean, it would be obvious to use that urinal since it is clearly within the bounds of proper etiquette, so the guy before me must know about the rules, too. I begin to get worried about the timing of my use of the urinal because there might be some lingering germs that are still in the air and haven't settled or, even worse, I could get splashed! I continue to empty my bladder and go back to class but if I find that I violated "Bone's Restroom Etiquette," I may very well have to seek professional counseling.

Please address this situation with the care it deserves.

Thank you,

Buzz

----------------------------
Buzz,

Let me start by saying you likely will not need professional counseling. Well, not for this anyway. Just from the fact that you took the time to email me with your question lets me know you are a very conscientious urinator, as am I. It gives me great comfort to know that if I were in a public restroom urinating, and you were to enter, I could rest assured that you would not pick a urinal next to me. Any friend of proper urinal etiquette is a friend of mine. If only everyone were like us. But I digress. Now, on to your question.

My first advice for you is to never let situations like this sneak up on you. As you're walking towards the restroom, you should be completely prepared for every possible situation you might be confronted with once you pass thru those doors. With this particular "encounter" as you call it, the clear and present danger that I see is splatterage, or as you say, "being splashed." You are right to be concerned about this. Some toilets, urinals especially, may have a very powerful flush, causing droplets of water, urine, and who knows what else to escape the confines of the porcelain receptacle. If you are contacted by any such splatterage, obviously, you would need to remove and burn any clothes which you were wearing as soon as possible.

I see two ways you could have better handled this situation. The obvious one is to go to the next available urinal. From reading your letter, it appears that no one else was "on the line" at this time, so you could have shifted down one spot. Although with a three urinal configuration, the other end urinal would be the preferred peeing position. Secondly, if you see that there is flushing in progress as you approach, you might slow down your approach a bit, giving everything a bit more time to calm down by the time you address the stall.

I hope this advice has helped. By practicing proper urinal and restroom etiquette, these decisions will eventually become second nature to you, and you will no longer have to think. And let's face it, as men, the less we have to think, the better.

Your friend,
Bone

PS - Please never use the word "potty" ever again. And I hope that this is the only time you ever use the phrase "as I unzipped" when communicating with me.

(If you have questions for Bone or would like to seek his advice, please send an email to Dear Bone. Responses to selected emails posted on this blog. If you do not wish for your name to be used, please choose an alias, or one will be selected for you.)

"But it's just the price I pay. Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes. I'm Mister Brightside..."

The K-12 Meme

This is a fairly simple meme, for those of us who proudly display our high school diplomas, or GED certificates. List something you remember from each grade of school:

Kindergarten - I just remember moving like halfway thru the year. The school I went to the first half of the year is about to be torn down now. And I remember playing kickball a lot.

1st grade - About the only thing I remember from first grade is sitting behind some kid who would always steal my pencils and other supplies while we were out of the room. And not just regular pencils, but the really cool, big fat ones.

2nd grade- My Mom was picking me up from school one day and told me that President Reagan had been shot. I went back inside to tell my teacher and she didn't believe me. It traumatized me because I was very honest. The next day she apologized to me in front of the class, which was just gay.

3rd grade - Hmm. I remember the first day of third grade, this kid, JO, was in the hall crying. I'm thinking, dude, we're in third grade now. Grow up. Crying is sooo first grade. I was also in the same class with the guy who is now like known for being a local drug lord.

4th grade - I kinda thought my 4th grade teacher was hot. Miss Thompson. Oh yes. Also got into a fight with this kid, PT. He slapped me, like girl slapped me, really hard. And it hurt.

5th grade - Had my favorite teacher ever this year. I lost in the grade-wide spelling bee and started crying. When I got back to my room she had ordered balloons and had them at my desk. Looking back that was very nice. And also somewhat gay.

6th grade - This was the year I had my black fake-leather Michael Jackson jacket with zippers. The first day I wore it, my science teacher, probably having no idea who Michael Jackson was, called it a motorcycle jacket. Years later, he was bagging my groceries at a local grocery store. Talk about a poor pension plan.

7th grade - I remember JO, the crying kid from 3rd grade, smelled really bad one day, so the teacher made him leave the room and she went and sprayed like half a can of lysol around his now-empty desk. This was also the year of the Challenger explosion, I think, and I remember watching the news coverage at school.

8th grade - Played 8th grade basketball. We would practice with the 9th graders. And I remember they'd always pick on us. One practice, they took this one guy, TH, back in the locker room and stuck a pacifier in his mouth. Looking back, I wonder where they even got a pacifier. Also, this one kid, AP, and I would always buy and bring Now or Later candy to school and sell it for profit. Quite the little entrepreneur I was.

9th grade - For some reason, probably my haircut, and because I've almost always curled my lip when I smile, I earned the nickname "Elvis" in English class this year. Yeah. As you might imagine, it was great. Fortunately, once I got a haircut, the Elvis moniker, much like my tight-rolled Levis, faded.

10th grade - This one dude, JG, would always ask to borrow a pen from this other dude, JL. So at the end of class, JG would act like he was returning the pen, and he'd toss it towards JL, who sat near a window. But everytime, JG would throw it way over JL's head and it would go out the window and into the courtyard. We all got a big laugh out of that trick. The teacher in that class wouldn't let JL climb out the window. So one day I'm sitting in my next class and JL, who's not even in that class, comes in and asks that teacher if he could climb out her window to get his pen, and she let him.

11th grade - This was the year of the potpourri incident. Now that the statute of limitations has safely passed, I can finally talk about it. During break one day, someone dared me to spray potpourri into our teachers water glass. Well, I did. She came in to start class, immediately went for her glass. She drank, stood there for a few seconds, then left the room. When she came back in, she asked who had done it. No one would confess or tell, so she closed the door and closed all the windows and sprayed two cans of potpourri in the room and made us sit there. Oh, and I think this was the year where for like a week or two, this girl, LG, who was an office aide one period, would come and get me out of class and we'd make out in the hall. Those were the days.

12th grade - I honestly don't remember much about this year, oddly. Just having fun the whole year and not doing very much schoolwork at all. Sitting in annual staff one day, we were watching TV, and I started getting these blind spots. That was my first migraine headache, although I had no idea what it was at the time. Oh yeah, and I didn't get to go on my senior trip because of the "gym incident." More on that later. Maybe.

Tune in next week for Saved By The Bone: The College Years :-)

Couldn't help but think of this Seinfeld dialogue with the high school thing. From episode #72, "The Barber":
Elaine: "OK, our next bachelor is number, um, 124, on your program. He's uh, he's a high school graduate."
(Kramer whispers something to her.)
Kramer: "Oh, uh equivalency. A high school equivalency program graduate. He's um, self-employed. He's, I don't know, six foot three, a hundred ninety pounds. He likes, uh, fruit. And he just got a haircut."

"Goodbye, farewell, so long, vaya con Dios. Good luck, wish you well, take it slow. Easy come, girl, easy go..."

Stupid philematophobes

Today's entry stems from an article I was reading on MSN.com the other day. Now, according to this article, the five most common fears, or phobias, are:

1. Fear of snakes (ophidiophobia)
2. Fear of giving a speech (glossophobia)
3. Fear of heights (acrophobia)
4. Fear of rodents (musophobia)
5. Fear of flying (aviophobia)

Whatever happened to the fear of dying? You know, good ol' kickthebucketophobia. Ripophobia. (These are all medical terms. No need to concern yourself with them.) I thought that used to be right up there near the top. Are people not that concerned about buying the farm anymore? Does the thought of having your blood drained and your eyelids sewn shut not bother anyone anymore? Perhaps everyone has joined that we're-gonna-live-forever cult. Maybe I'm the only one who hasn't. ::Looking around suspiciously:: I better google it, just to be sure.

The article also mentions some less-common fears, such as:
Pteronophobia - fear of being tickled with feathers. (A fear? I've known someone with an affinity for that.)
Philematophobia - fear of kissing. (I went out with a couple of girls who apparently had this, although I wasn't aware of it at the time. Stupid philematophobes.)
Gerontophobia - fear of old people.
Peladophobia - fear of bald people.
Geropeladophobia - fear of old, bald people. (Seriously.)

Seems there is a name for almost every possible phobia. But just in case, I have come up with a few suggestions of names for some lesser known phobias:

Fear of old, bald people with pacemakers: cheneyophobia
Fear of excruciatingly irritating voices: drescherophobia
Fear of bad toupees: trumpophobia
Fear of having an unpopular blog: zerocommentophobia
Fear of bad acting: keanuphobia
Fear of loud, crotch-grabbing, fat women: roseannophobia
Fear of medicine: cruisophobia
Fear of being attacked by pro basketball player: artestophobia
Fear of a drunk driver crashing into your house: pianomanophobia (Say that one out loud. It's fun!)
Fear of talking like Snoop Dogg: izzlephobizzle
And last, but not least...
The fear of being massaged by another man will from now on be known as: bonephobia

Oh, and bonus points for the first person who knows where today's lyrics are from.

"So look long at that Christmas tree. It may be the last one that you see. Decorate your house in green and red, cos someday you'll be dead..."

I think the key is...

(Bone channels Dr. Phil? Or More about Bone than you wanted to know. Probably choice B.)

So I had nine trick-or-treaters last night. Not many, but more than at my other place. There was a group of three, then a group of five, then one little girl. The group of five included one person bigger than me, with a trick or treat bag. What the crap?! OK, if you want to go along with the kids, that is more than fine. Just don't carry a bag. Among the costumes that I can remember, there was a Spiderman, an angel, a ninja, she-devil, and Tinkerbell. To Tinkerbell, I said, "What are you, an angel?" She said, "No, I'm Tinkerbell." The little kids are soo cute! Just makes me want to have one. Of course, not being able to reproduce asexually, there are a couple of obstacles in my way. Then again, I hear kids screaming in restaurants, running wild thru the mall, and misbehaving in general, and, well, I'm glad that I don't.

I know, I know, once I have my own, my whole outlook and opinion will change. And I have no doubt that this is true. I saw evidence of this in a friend of mine recently. He and his wife had their first child and several months later, I asked him to go do something one night. It was something that normally, he always would have been up for. But instead, this time he said he didn't know, and that he might just come home from work and play with his son that night. Which is what he did. Amazing.

On the other hand, I know people who are married. And several of them are having problems, or just don't seem very happy. And though they won't say it, I can almost see that they regret it. I imagine that some of them wish they were still single, or long to be single again. Then I hear single friends wondering if they'll ever get married, almost like they are longing for that. I hate knowing friends are unhappy. I would rather be unhappy if it meant that someone I care about would be happy. Does that make sense? Maybe everyone is like that. It's just that if I know someone I care about is unhappy, that almost always takes precedence to whatever I might be dealing with in my life at that time. When everyone else is happy, I'm happy. Sorry, got off on a little tangent there.

The grass always looks greener on the other side. That saying hasn't been around for eight eons for nothing. It may look better, but more times than not, it probably isn't. Sure, being single has a lot of advantages. Girls. Massages. Sitting around in your underwear. Not shaving for three days. (Note to self: Evaluate my definition of advantages.) If I want to stay out until 4:00 in the morning, I don't have to tell anyone (usually). If I want to get a massage every week, who's stopping me? I can take off and fly across the country or drive down to the beach on a whim. There's no one else to consider. I can date whomever I like, or no one at all.

But there are plenty of advantages to being married and having children, too. I may have said this before, but I cannot imagine someone committing to spend the rest of her life with me, as my partner, as one. Think about that. Far as I know, we only have one life here on Earth. And out of the millions and billions of people in the world, he/she chose you to spend their one life with. That is amazing. And children. How could children not be considered a blessing. I imagine that having children, someone being born into this world who is a part of you, someone who depends on you for their very survival, safety, and well-being, watching them grow and live and learn, would be... awesome beyond words. And I have always said that if I'm never married, that I want to adopt a child someday.

I do wonder sometimes if I'll ever get married. I mean, when my parents were my age, they had two kids and had been married for 11 years! That's just freaky to think about. Not to mention, my clock is ticking ladies! I mean, come on, sure Kenny Rogers had kids at 60, but just because The Gambler can do it doesn't necessarily mean I can. Then it seems like society has the idea that you have to get married. And I hate that. It doesn't bother me. But I've had female friends especially, wonderful girls, tell me they feel pressure if they're not married by a certain age. And that shouldn't be. At all. Then my mind returns to those I know who are unhappily married. So, be careful what you wish for. Boy, I'm just a walking cliche today.

I think the key is finding contentment. Whatever your situation. And finding happiness within yourself, with who you are. Then you'll be able to enjoy being single, or being with someone else, much more. Not that I claim to know it all. Or even very much. These are just my opinions. So for now, I really enjoy the good things about being single. Really ;-) Because I know that one day my life may be different and I won't have those anymore. I'll have new blessings. Different advantages.

I just hope that I still have time to blog ;-)

You had to be there...
(A light-hearted conversation inspired by last night's Tinkerbell trick-or-treater)
"Is Tinkerbell a boy or girl? And if he's a boy, is he gay?"
"Girl. But if it was a guy, definitely would be gay."
"Is she the one with Peter Pan?"
"She was in love with Peter Pan."
"So Peter effing Pan can get a girl and I can't?"
"No, he was in love with Wendy."
"So Peter Pan can get two girls! Great."
"No. Wendy didn't like Peter, Tink did."
"Oh, OK."
"And he liked Wendy. Not Tink."
"I may blog this conversation."

"I hope that I find what I'm reaching for, the way that it is in my mind. I hope that I won't be that wrong anymore, and maybe I have learned this time. Someday I'll get over you. I'll live to see it all through. But I'll always miss dreaming my dreams with you..."