Pointing, by the way, is not polite.
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, education, Everyday, food, health, humor, life, theatre
I’ve become a little too close to the janitor, at the college. And it’s not that I mind, not one bit; it’s how we’ve become close that I find amusing and uncomfortable. It involves Miller Light. Sort of. Before I go any further, I want you to be plainly aware that this is not about an academic caste system. And I have a previous story to prove it. Though I rarely tell this story from my Disney Days, prior to having the high-class job of character entertainment and the allure of being an Attractions Host at Disney Studios, I will come clean and tell you that...
Not tonight, dear, I have a checkbook.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, humor, life
I will not turn around for anything or anyone, once I’m on the road heading to my destination of choice (be that New Mexico or Kroger), unless the circumstances are so dire that I have no choice: I need gas, I left my two-year-old nephew sleeping on the couch, you know things like that. For instance, last Thursday when I drove up to Taste of China, because I prefer their cream cheese wontons over China Garden’s, I was determined to get out of the car and walk in the door and eat like a king. Except I had left my wallet at...
That'd be on account of my "driver's lung."
I'm entering Week 3 at the new job, and the question I get asked most frequently isn't about the co-workers. That question ranks around #2, or #3. The one burning thing inquiring minds want to know is How Do You Manage That Long, Awful Drive? It's an hour in to work, and an hour home, though the drive home seems much quicker. I'm not sure why. Anyway, I thought about that question this morning, when I was stopped, yet again behind a truck hauling half a mobile home. We were squenched over on the right side of Highway 45 (not Highway 45 Alternate)...
"The magic stops here," She said.
I've decided I'm not legitimate until I get a business card. The kink in that plan is that no one has told me who the person is that purchases them for you. That's the way it rolls in Academia. String after string after string all tied to some alleged piece of paper that started the whole trail...probably back in the last 1950s. The thing you don't find out until later is that sometimes it's not even really a piece of paper. It's a person. Or a piece of a person. And it's quite an ingenious plan. I've certainly never seen the person, the...
Am I merely a heathen, now? Is that what this heartburn is indicating?
I don't want to write this blog. I really don't. (Of course, I'm going to, but still...you should know that I don't really want to). I don't want to write it because it's going to force me to seriously consider the points I'm about to make, or attempt to. Points that are more than likely going to be offensive, both about myself and the culture I live in...and probably to one or two of you, at the least. I like God, let me just say that, upfront. I even like Jesus. I don't know when the last time was that I...
And, for the record, I really like my shower curtain.
Last night. Oh, my, last night... Full house. Standing ovation. Sheer exhaustion. After party. Kudos. The usuals. Totally worth it...all the rehearsals, which in this case were rather tightly thrown together and quickly so, and the lines...oh god, the lines...I've never been that close to Shakespeare (he seems standoffish like my cousin Jonathan - sure, sure, he'll speak, he'll pass you the potato salad if you ask him, but he won't really like doing it, and you'll be able to tell from the look on his face, but it'll be a private thing, not broadcast to the whole dinner table). But, last night, Shakespeare...
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