The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

A Hundred Miles in Half a Day: How My iPhone Battery Helped Me Find Donald Miller's Hidden Manuscript

2009-08-20T20:43:00.009-05:00

(A Quick Preface: I used to update my blog a lot. But, now that I am married and own a business, my time to "write dumb stuff on the internet" has been decreased dramatically. The reality is I have just become undisciplined with my writing. I used to write more frequently on my blog as well as for my own amusement. But I have become lazy with my words. That is one reason for the lack of new content. The other reason is because something happened earlier this summer that I have longed to write about. It was an incident that totally disrupted our lives. I have wanted to write about the anger and frustration that I have been dealing with after this incident, but I am sure that my wife and my attorney would prefer me not to say anything. So those are the reasons, but I shouldn't use them as excuses. I need to get more in the habit of writing not only on my blog, but for other outlets as well. So, I will try to do better, cause I can't get much worse.)

So last night, Jen began to, well not really scream, it was more of a squeal.

"Tomorrow Indiana, Tomorrow Indiana!"

I thought she was saying something about one of our cats. She explained that one of Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years manuscripts was supposed to be hidden in Indiana. I had been keeping up with this contest/game/promotion not only on Donald Miller's website but also on his Twitter feed. (Quick explanation: Donald Miller is a writer and he is promoting his new book by "hiding" 60 manuscripts across the U.S. If you find one, he asks that you read it and then call him at the phone number that is listed on the cover sheet to talk about the book with him.)

I looked at Jen and said, "There is going to be one in Evansville."

She asked me how I knew and I told her about the similarities that I had noticed on the previous locations. I am sure that I am not the only one that has noticed the similarities, and though I joked that I "cracked the code" it wasn't hard to do with a little bit of research. So as we went out to run errands, we joked about how awesome it would be if we found one of the manuscripts. Jen said that they should hide the book in the Drive-Thru drawer of the bank that she works at. We kept thinking that be funny if we found one.

This morning I awoke to the rain coming down pretty hard, and I knew that the rain would force the job that I had planned for this morning into fruition. And that if there weren't any problems at the job, I would be done before lunch. So I thought to myself, if they reveal the location of the manuscript towards the end of the day, I could go to Evansville and find it. (For those that are geographically challenged: I live in Owensboro, Kentucky and Evansville, Indiana is about an hour Northwest. The only reason why my Facebook network says Evansville, Indiana is because Owensboro doesn't have it's own network yet. Don't get me started on that.)

So after I got through with morning job, I came back to the office and checked online to see if there was any news on the locations of the manuscripts. Nothing. I waited. I didn't want to go out of my way if they had already reveled the location. Still nothing. I sent some emails to my wife about the contest/game/promotion a few times. When they finally revealed that the location of the manuscript in Alabama and that Indiana would be next, I figured I had as good a chance as anyone else. All the while, there was no guarantee that it was going to be in Evansville. But I thought it was a pretty safe bet.

I sent an email to Jen and told her that I was going to Evansville to find the manuscript. I borrowed my dad's truck and headed towards Evansville, with a quick stop to a customer's place in between.

Jen got off for lunch and called me. I asked her to Google Map a few places that I thought might be prime locations for the manuscript. We came up with the best strategy we possibly could. When I arrived in Evansville, I stopped at a place called the Donut Bank because it was pretty central and had easy access to the Expressway that goes East/West and the highway that runs North/South.

So I waited. I refreshed my Twitter account on my iPhone every 10 seconds. Made a withdrawl of a couple of donuts and waited some more. I got bored and waited some more. I finally decided to move down the road a little bit because there was a school nearby and I didn't want to get caught up in traffic. So I stopped at a parking lot on Weinbach just North of the Expressway.

And waited and refreshed my iPhone. Waited some more and refreshed some more. I looked down and my Twitter feed said that I had reached my limit of 150 reloads an hour. I didn't know anything about this so I began to read the Twitter feeds on Safari and through the Facebook application. Something else popped up soon after that.

"Power At Less Than 20%"

I hit dismiss. I needed to go get a phone charger. So I turned out of the parking lot and headed towards Best Buy to get a iPhone charger. I parked the truck and started to walk inside. All the while, refreshing my Twitter. (By this time, I am a pro at refreshing Twitter.) I guess I had come under the limit somehow.

I walked through the first set of automatic doors and was heading through the second set of sliding doors when the tweet popped up.

(Hello Evansville, IN, here's your copy: 5721 E Virginia St http://budurl.com/a6sf #don_miller)

The Best Buy Bodyguard was just welcoming me into the store and I turned around in a sprint. The door began to close on me. Imagine the scene from The Fugitive. I am Dr. Richard Kimble and the Best Buy Bodyguard is Federal Marshal Gerard. Except the Best Buy Bodyguard isn't trying to shoot me, but rather trying his best to figure out what in the hell I am doing. I push the door open and finally escape and run out the other exit door.

I am sprinting. My sunglasses fall on the ground while I am running and I don't even think about stopping. I am pretty sure I passed Usain Bolt as I was running towards the truck. I hop in and quickly Google Map the location of the manuscript with the location of Best Buy.

2 Blocks away.

I hurried through a couple of intersections and when I got close, I turned right into a strip mall parking lot. I looked at the addresses and realized that the number was on the other side of the street. I look over and there is Vineyards Bookstore. Of course.

I hurry over across the street. I park haphazardly. I run inside. There is a young woman washing the windows of the doors.

I wheeze out, "Is this 5721 E. Virginia?"

She stops washing the windows. "Uh....................I'm................uh..............not"

This time I am trying my best not to, but undoubtedly berating her, "Is this or is this not 5721 E. Virginia?" I probably should have went on and screamed, "Did you or did you not order the Code Red!" but I didn't.

"I just started to work here not to long ago, I am not sure what the address is," she pointed to the customer service counter, "the lady at the customer service counter will be able to tell you.

I run through the store somehow not knocking over any Precious Moments figurines. (Did you know that Precious Moment figurines aren't worth anything unless they have the box. I learned this while working at a Pharmacy/Gift Store for a year. There was a room upstairs that had thousands of PM boxes. And I always had to go up there and find one for some 80 year old woman. It was maddening. I have never understood why they sell PM at Christian Bookstores because my way of thinking that Hell is most certainly filled with Precious Moments boxes.)

I lean on the counter.

"Is this 5721 E. Virginia?"

She said yes.

"Do you have a Donald Miller manuscript here?"

"Yes, I do."

She handed me a big padded envelope and had me jot my name down and my phone number. I was grinning and the young lady cleaning the windows said something to me, but I don't know what it was because I was only thinking of one thing: I got it.

I GOT IT!

Jen called me as I was getting into the truck. She was calling me to tell me the location of the manuscript. I told her that I had already picked it up. This time, she didn't squeal, she screamed. I told her that I couldn't talk long because my battery was almost dead. I didn't think about opening the envelope for a second, I wanted to save it until I got back home to open it with Jen.

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Best Buy. I got my phone charger and I looked on the ground and my sunglasses were still there.

So I made a bet. I bet that in a state that has 36,418 square miles I could find Donald Miller's manuscript. I did the research. But in reality, it was luck and a slowly dying iPhone battery that got me within two blocks of the manuscript.

Can't wait to read it.

Wayne Newton Vs. Johnny Cash: My First Experience with UFC

2009-07-19T20:40:00.003-05:00

I promised my friend Jerry that I would blog about this, so here goes.

Last Saturday night I found myself somewhere I didn't think I would be, watching something I didn't think I would be watching, asking a question I never thought I would ask.

"Is that a tattoo of Wayne Newton on that guy's arm?" I kept saying while squinting at the television. Even in HD, it was tough to distinguish. Especially, since the arm that had the tattoo emblazoned on it was furiously trying to knock another man's brain into the side of his skull enough that the man could no longer get up in UFC 100.

The longer the fight went on, the more and more people kept asking the question.

"That's gotta be Wayne Newton." someone would say more as a question, than an answer.

It wasn't until a slight silence in the action, one of the announcers said that it was a Johnny Cash tattoo. And when he said that, we still thought it looked more like Wayne Newton than Johnny Cash's profile from Live at Folsom Prison album.

Because I Honestly Don't Write Enough About My Experiences In Public Bathrooms

2009-06-03T22:14:00.003-05:00

Yeah, another post about bathrooms. But first a bit of a preface in the form of a way back machine.

To truly understand this post, we have to go back in time. All the way back to 1992. I had just finished my freshman year of high school, that kid that no one really cared about shot himself on Beverley Hills 90210, the first season of the Real World was on tv, and I rollerbladed all around Owensboro. My freshman year of high school (91-92) was a phenomenal year in music.

Roll Call:

Pearl Jam's Ten
Nirvana's Nevermind
Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Blood Sugar Sex Magik
GNR's Use Your Illusion albums
U2's Actung Baby
Peter Gabriel's Us
My strange fascination with Genesis' I Can't Dance
REM's Automatic For The People.

But a very underrated album in that time, but one that I connected to just as well as the above mentioned was The Black Crowes' Southern Harmony and Musical Companion. It appealed to a different side of me. When all of rock seemed to be going in a very different and forward way, this album seemed to be going back in reverse. And I loved the album. Still do.

So when I was in the local T.G.I. Friday's men's room a few weeks ago when "Thorn In My Pride" off of SH&MC came on, I began to tap my foot at the urinal. What can I say, I have talent. I even began to sway a little bit. I was alone in the bathroom and didn't think anything of it. I heard the door open. And as the door began to close, Chris Robinson began to sing the song.

If you know the song, you know that the first vocals is not a lyric, but rather the front man going "Shhhhhhhhhhh!"

Well, I forgot all about it. All I knew was that I was alone in the bathroom, in what would best be described as a "vulnerable" position, someone just walked in, and someone just said "Shhhhhh!"
I tried my best to use the chrome urinal handle as a mirror, but the image behind was was blurred. Of course, me being the rationale person that I am, I immediately thought that my toe tapping at the urinal was some sort of strange unknown signal and thought that what might happen next would be similar to a scene from Shawshank Redemption.

When I turned around to find an older gentleman washing his hands, I quickly realized that nothing was happening in the T.G.I. Friday's bathroom. I washed my hands never looking up with embarrassment and nearly sprinted back to the table to tell my wife how big of an idiot I am.

Can You Feel The Love Tonight ? Part Three: Citizens On Patrol

2009-05-11T21:10:00.003-05:00

I was checking one of my buddy's twitter photos yesterday when I came across this picture.

He is traveling around the East Coast with his band and saw this on a bathroom wall. So he took a picture.

I saw this and my mind began to race at all the possibilities. Maybe this is some sort of secret message that aliens are using to mark the men's restrooms that are being infected with tiny robot germs, which we now call swine flu. Luckily, I googled that possibility. Amazingly, there are 83 results. Which proves that you can google anything and find something.

So I googled, "Toy Sto...." before I could even finish typing, the predictive text came up with "Toy Story 2 Was Ok." After a little bit of reading and watching videos on the internet, I found out that this grafitti stems from a joke from Demetri Martin.

I laughed a little bit, and then I realized something.

The person in the Books-A-Million men's restroom couldn't even get the damn joke right. The guy wrote the wrong freaking movie!

And that says a lot about my hometown.

My Mother's Day Gift: A Day Early

2009-05-10T14:12:00.004-05:00

I got my Mother's Day gift a day early this year. But, unlike most Mother's Day gifts, I didn't buy it. I didn't even, truth be told, the mother's day gift wasn't from me to my mother, but just the opposite.

My mom gave me something very special.

We sat down and talked for about 45 minutes about a lot of different subjects. It was quite a heartfelt talk that seemed more like two friends than a mother-son talk. My mother and I rarely get occasions to sit down and talk like this. There is always something going on, something that needs to be done, or someone else in the room. So even though I knew that I needed to go pick Dad back up at the shop, I sat there soaking in the conversation.

We began to talk about Mother's day, presents, and mother's days from the past. Mom told me that as far as she is concerned, everyday has been Mother's Day because of the way my sister and I have turned out. She said that she never remembers a lot of problems with me and Brittany while we were growing up. Then she looked up at me and asked me if that was true.

I told her that I don't remember a lot of trouble. Mom told me that sometimes she forgets things that have happened a long time okay. She called it editing. I told her that I firmly believe that the past is the only thing we truly have control over. We can edit our past. We can over emphasize something that we like and under emphasize something that we don't like. Or we can just forget the whole matter.

We talked about relatives long, long gone. And mom let me into little secrets that as a child I never knew. Though, whenever she revealed something to me, I quickly answered "I know." My answers surprised me. The words coming out of my mouth before the realizations could make it from my subconscious. But they didn't seem to surprise my mom.

When we began to talk about faith and the lack of faith, I could see my mother's eyes begin to wet. We sat there for a second, the emotion sitting in the room like a fog. The fog began to clear when we heard the downstairs door slam. It was my father, he had waited up at the shop long enough and had walked home. He asked what was going on and we said that we had just been talking. He asked about what and we tried to explain our topics. Dad looked at us sort of puzzled.

I guess he was puzzled because it wasn't so much a conversation as it was a gift. It was a gift of spending time with each other. A gift we don't give or receive enough, but should. And maybe then, mother's days, father's days, and birthdays would be more of a year round occasion.

Can You Feel The Love Tonight? Part Two: The Legend Of Curly's Gold

2009-04-26T22:53:00.005-05:00

Jen and I went out to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner on Saturday night. And BWW is still batting a thousand when it comes to poor service. But after we finished eating, I suggested to Jen that we go over to Books-A-Million to look at magazines. Now, I knew that I had to go to the bathroom before we left BWW, but I didn't use their restroom for a couple of reasons.

Reason #1 -- There is no partition in the bathroom for the urinal. Which means that whenever anyone opens the door to the men's room everyone with a line of sight can see the whole enchilada. (Please note that I do not call any part of my body "enchilada." I simply couldn't think of another expression in this case and point.)

Reason #2 -- Even though I made a vow to myself to never again step foot inside the Books-A-Million men's room, it would give me an excellent excuse to go to the Books-A-Million men's room to see if any aspiring Roger Eberts had posted their movie reviews on the wall.

So, Jen started looking at the the fiction books and I headed back to the bathroom. I turned the corner to the bathroom and saw a small note right above the handle to the door.

PLEASE SEE ASSOCIATE FOR KEY

I smiled and started to walk back towards the front. I passed by Jen and she looked at me quite oddly. She grabbed my hand.

"I thought you were going to the bathroom?"

I noticed an associate was shelving books right beside her.

I replied, "I am, but I have to find an associate to unlock the bathroom."

I asked associate to let me into the bathroom. As I walked past Jen towards the bathroom, I could see her face had turned bright red. I tried to chat up the employee about why they had started locking the doors. I wanted to ask him if this was all because of some ironic/unusual graffiti that someone had blogged about, but I figured that would be too much. He opened the door, and I went in.

I stepped up to the urinal and proceeded to have the most satisfying "void" I have had since I passed a kidney stone in October. I washed my hands, and went back outside to find Jen. She standing in the magazine aisle waiting for me to come out.

"This is all your fault," she said.

"Fault?" I replied.

"Yeah, this is all your fault."

"You've got it all wrong. I was the victim. This is justice. I'm a vigilante."

She began to roll her eyes, but I was already envisioning what my "Watchmen" character would be. We sat on a bench and watched probably a dozen or so folks try to go into the bathroom. And each one had to go find the same employee to let them in.

"I bet that guy hates you," Jen said.

"Well, I didn't write the graffiti, I just wrote about it on my blog."

I have a site meter on my blog, so I know the number of hits my blog has had. I can view locations as well. And the week after I blogged about the Lion King graffiti, there were quite a few hits that showed the Books-A-Million IP address from Birmingham, AL.

So maybe some upper level mustaches from Books-A-Million found this blog about "The Lion King" in the bathroom and decided to do something about it. I never figured that a blog with a grand total of 24,000 hits could be so powerful.

So maybe the pen truly is mightier that the sword. Except I don't write this with a pen. And I am not exactly sure what the sword would represent in this metaphor either.

We walked back out to the jeep and Jen looked my smug smile that couldn't wiped off my face.

"You are so proud of yourself?"

"I am. Some people are reading my blog, and it is making some sort of a difference."

"Yeah, but you are making a difference in Books-A-Million bathrooms."

I laughed. "I know, and I have never been more proud of myself."

This pride must be what Upton Sinclair felt.

Intimated is a Word I Hate -- An Animated Blog Post from Me

2009-04-21T22:05:00.003-05:00

An Open Letter to the Old Man in a Motorized Cart in the Self Service Checkout that I Encountered at Kroger's Today

2009-04-06T21:55:00.003-05:00

Dear Sir,

(A Quick Preface...Now, I don't usually go to Kroger's during the afternoon, so I didn't really know what to expect. But when I pulled up into the parking and it seemed that I had pulled into a Buick Le Sabre convention, I knew I was in for adventure. And boy was I right. I was easily the youngest person in the store by 2 decades.)

I hope you had a pleasant experience this afternoon at Kroger's. The recently unveiled new store at Wesleyan Park Plaza is quite nice. The split aisles make the store much more efficient when it comes to maneuvering from the Beer to the Baking Goods. It is a wonderful new store that showcases all the latest innovations in the grocery industry today. One such innovation is the Self-Service Checkout line.

The Self-Service Checkout line was at least 2 deep when I found my place in line with 3 cans of chicken noodle soup and 2 bottles of Sprite. I was wondering what was taking so long until I saw you.

Now I don't know if you understand the concept of "Self-Service." But if you pull up to a Self-Service gas station, which since we don't live in New Jersey which mandates all gas pumps be full service, you know that you can't just wait in your car for someone to fill up your tank. Well, that same theory applies to Self-Service Checkout lines at supermarkets as well.

So that means you don't just recline in your motorized shopping cart while the lady that operates the 6 Self Service Checkout stations remotely scans every single item for you. I know, I know, you just wished that there was someway you could have someone scan all your items and put them in a bag for you. Oh wait, there are literally 25 lanes like that. But instead, you decided to piss off everyone that was in a hurry trying to get a quick shopping trip done during their lunch break.

You especially pissed me off. Now, I will admit that is not such a hard thing to do these days. Considering that the FM frequencies no longer register and I can only listen to AM stations on my Jeep radio. This means that I spend most of my days cruising around listening to Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh. And it is easy see why after being slowly brainwashed by these reactionary blowhards that my mind starts to become angry and I begin to Google "Molotov Cocktails" in my spare time. But, like always, I digress.

It wouldn't have been so bad if you were not just lounging in your motorized cart. You laid back with your hands behind your head. Your head that was covered with a UK Wildcats sock cap with the little ball on the top. No one told you to pull it down over your head. Some how, the laws of gravity ceased to exist and the sock cap balanced on the top of your head like a little Redneck yamacha.

I wanted to snatch that sock cap off your head. I am pretty sure that the little nun waiting behind me would have had my back too. I think I heard her mutter "I'll cut that SOB," but I could very well be mistaken.

So I suggest next time you head to Kroger's, you should only use the Self-Service Checkout Line if you can actually serve yourself. Or else you might feel some Old Testament justice from an Old School nun with a shiv.

I hope you enjoy your pot roast. It looked delicious. And I hope you get Mad Cow.

Wow, I really need to get a new radio, I am getting way too bitter...

Sincerely and Congratulatorily Yours,

Lafe Benson

In Celebration of Opening Day

2009-04-06T21:15:00.001-05:00

Who knew that Chewbacca was a lefty?

Can You Feel The Love Tonight?

2009-04-06T01:12:00.002-05:00

Jen and I went to Books-A-Million last night. Jen calls it "The place the alphabet forgot" due to it's lack of any resemblance of alphabetical organization. She was looking at a book, when I told her that "we might have to go home soon." A few minutes lingered by.

"I will be right back, I have to go find the bathroom."

It's not something I am proud of, but let's all be adults here and admit that sometimes we get caught out somewhere and can't wait to get home. Try as you may to hold it, there comes a time when you know that you need to find a bathroom in a hurry. (Jen also has a term for this time as well, she calls it critical mass.)

So I head towards the bathroom at the back of the store looking exactly like an Olympic walker. I rush in and immediately regret not planning better. The Owensboro Books-A-Million Men's room needed to have yellow police tape around it because it looked like the scene of a crime. A very, very nasty crime.

But, like I said, it was an emergency. So I did what I had to do.

I began to inspect the bathroom, trying my best not to look at the floor. I started to read the graffiti on the wall. The wall was faily clean and clear of any writing. But there was one thing I could make out.

"The Lion King was OK."

I began to wonder about this statement. And I could never get my head around the statement.

1. When was this written. I know that The Lion King came out in 1994. Had this been on the wall for 15 years?

2. Let's say for instance, this was written recently. Why would you feel the need to let all the men that are at "critical mass" know that the fact that you couldn't get over the plausibility of the animals talking and made the cartoon only so-so.

3. Seriously, who in the world didn't like The Lion King? Was this the rebellion of a father that has had to purchase a second copy of the DVD because their child had watch the movie over and over?

I don't know they answer to any of these questions. And I must say, these questions disturbed me. So I finished my business and washed my hands like I had OCD.

And vowed never to go in the Books-A-Million Men's room again.

An Open Letter to the Two Guys On The Scooter That Cut Me Off

2009-03-10T21:54:00.003-05:00

Hello There,

You remember me? I was driving a rather large truck. 24,000 lb to be exact. That's a lot of weight. That 106,757 Newton. Whoa. I was the big green truck that stopped at the stop sign on Hall Street. Evidently, by law, you are supposed to stop at stop signs. When I began to go again, approaching my destination, I kept a nice steady speed. As you can imagine, it is quite hard to move 24,000 lb. Well, you guys decided that you needed that you needed to pass me.

Well, you guys not only had to pass me, only a few hundred feet before I turned. But you made the outstanding decision to pass me on. On the right. In my blindspot. Then you cut me off. As I blared my horn, you did the kind thing and gave me a wave. Well the driver gave me the wave. The guy on the back, well you just held on tighter.

Now, I don't know if you know this or not, but passing on the right hand side of any vehicle is quite illegal, unless of course you are in Mexico. Mexico is what we like to call "The Land that Right of Way Forgot." But as a commercially licensed driver, I know the rules. As a scooter driver, evidently you did not.

I reached my destination after mere seconds after you guys passed me. I had to stay seated for a minute or two because I was so mad/shook. Now, I don't know where you guys were going. But I am pretty sure that wherever you went or whoever you went to see was not worth the risk of being run over by a 24,000 lb truck.

I decided to write you this letter to explain to you the seriousness of today's events.

It only takes 470lb of force to crack a skull that has a helmet protecting it. Now if we use a simple force equation (Force=Mass/Acceleration) we can calculate how much force I would have exerted on your non-helmeted heads. Comes to roughly 180,000 lb. That's almost 383 times the force it would take to crack your skull.

Now I understand all these facts and figures are quite confusing. So I decided to use my vast skills in Microsoft Paint to show you what would have happened.

So, in conclusion, good luck A-holes with your scooter.

With Warmest Regards,
Lafe Benson

The Captain of the Huckleberry Party

2009-03-03T21:17:00.002-06:00

Ralph Waldo Emerson said this at Henry David Thoreau's funeral.

"I so much regret the loss of his rare powers of action, that I cannot help counting it a fault in him that he had no ambition. Wanting this instead of engineering for all America, he was the captain of a huckleberry party. Pounding beans is good to the end of pounding empires one of these days; but if, at the end of years, it is still only beans!"

Since my last blog post was about Thoreau, and our (see: my) dependence on electricity and modern comforts, I thought I would post a video that I have posted before, but thought I would post it again. Because not only am I on a Thoreau kick, I am also on an Ed kick as well.

They Have The Plant But We Have The Power

2009-03-03T19:10:00.003-06:00

It was a common question around Owensboro for a few weeks last month.

"You get your power back?"

The answer was usually in days. Sometimes weeks. In some rare occasions, the answer was a few flickers and nothing else.

The ice storm crippled the Mid-South, and Western Kentucky was hit very hard. It had only been a few months before that the region was crippled by a wind storm, something pretty much unheard of in this area. The majority of town lost electricity for a significant time during both storms. What was an inconvenience and a bit of a novelty in the heat of Indian Summer became debilitating and life threatening in the frigid and blistering cold of winter. In September, a few hours after the winds had died down, the clean-up process began. After the ice storm, clean-up took much longer. With a couple of inches of ice on everything, the average chainsaw would dull in a few short minutes after trying to cut through ice and wood.

Jen and I took the cats over to my parent's house to ride out the ice storm. On Tuesday, a tree limb hovered dangerously close to our roof. When the power went out at 6:30, I told Jen to get Toby and Mona because we were heading for my parents basement. My parents had electricity for a few hours that Tuesday night, but we awoke to darkness and no heat. Luckily, my parents have a gas log fireplace that we could huddle around to keep warm. And slowly, things began to get back to normal. After a couple of days off, Jen went back to work. We found a restaraunt downtown that not only had heat and hot food, but also had wi-fi. On Saturday night, I learned that the power had been restored to our block. I came back home and found the thermostat said that it was 38 degrees and the house was a mess. If an anthropologist had inspected our house they would have thought that a Mount Vesuvius type of event had occured. There were shoes sitting out, tater tots in the oven, and dishes still dirty and half frozen. We roughed it for a few days, but things were getting back to normal.

Normal being a life totally reliable on electricity. The meter on the side of the house stopped for a grand total of 4 1/2 days. We survived. We were uncomfortable, but we survived. We got our power back. But when we begin to use the term "power" instead of "electricity," it saddens me. When we equate power to electricity, it shows just how dependent we our on lights, noise, and distraction. Because when that little meter on the side of the house is turning like a 33 1/3 RPM record player, it makes us feel safe and sound. It makes us feel like we have power. But in all actuality, it saps us of our real power.

For the most part, with no distractions and plenty of books around, I didn't take time to read anything. I always complain about not having any time to read, but when that time was afforded to me I simply wasted it. I had the time and the means to do something that I am passionate about, but instead I simply worried when I could get on Facebook or watch Lost. It is a harsh truth, but I am too dependent on the comforts of life.

And I came to two realizations:

1. I have changed quite a bit in the past decade.

2. Thoreau would kick my ass if he was alive.

I used to live in the woods. I survived a New England winter out in the woods. I lived in, for lack of a better term, a small cabin that had only a wood burning stove, wool blankets, a cot, and flying squirrels in the ceiling. It seemed to snow endlessly. The temperature was routinely in the single digits. And it was in that New England woods that I lived a simplified life. It was during that winter that the 2000 election debacle occured, and I knew nothing about it. I lived right through history. But I never knew what was happening. I had other things to worry about. My responsibilities didn't include watch CNN or reading newspapers that often. My days were filled with drama from my job, but my life was simple.

A few years after that, I lived in a small one room cabin a few yards away from a large lake. I had more comforts, but still my life was so much more simplified. It would be generous to call cellphone coverage "spotty." No internet. I had cable television and a typewritter, but not a lot of heat. I didn't even have a key to the door. It was simple. It was invigorating. It was a life that not many cared for, but for a while it suited me fine.

I look back on those times and barely recognize myself in my memories. It's as though I am watching a film of my life with someone else playing the part of me.

So the question is this: How can I simplify? How can our culture simplify?

Thoreau said that "Our life is frittered away by detail." His only answer was to simplify.

I don't know how I am going to simplify. All I know is that I can now make the distinction between power and electricity.

This Made Me Laugh, A Lot

2009-02-22T22:49:00.000-06:00

see more pwn and owned pictures

Hitler? Who Said Anything About Hitler?

2008-12-17T06:10:00.002-06:00

Found this headline in the AP this morning, it was kind of hard not to read this story...

Cake request for 3-year-old Hitler namesake denied

Congratualtions Heath and Deborah Campbell, you have officially guaranteed that you children have no chance at all to grow up to be the President of the United States of America. Oh sure, you can fake outrage on why people would be offened by naming children after Nazis. But hey, at least you got your picture in the paper. You will probably even get to go on Fox News.

And if Johnny Cash was right, your little boy Adolph Hitler Campbell is probably gonna take a lot of (and have to administer a lot of) butt whoppings in his lifetime and probably want to kill you one of these days.

Welcome to the Pain

2008-12-16T20:02:00.004-06:00

(Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. Usually, I would blog when something strange, funny, poignant, beautiful, or dumb happened to me. The other times I was just filled with vile, anger and rage. For some reason, I like those the best. And that is what inspired this latest blog entry.)

Recently, a University of Michigan fan decided to be a moron and auction his "fanhood" off on Ebay. Evidently, he got tired of rooting for a team that has the most wins in college football history and the best winning percentage in college football history because of the past two years of futility. I had heard about the story from a few sites on the Internet, and I began to pray that no Ole Miss fan was stupid enough to bid on it.

But.

Of course someone did.

And won.

So the guy made a video to prove that he was becoming an Ole Miss fan and burned all his Michigan memorabilia.

Here is my rundown of the video.

0:00-0:20 OK, why is there no audio?

0:21-0:26 "This is not a screen play" I will give it to him, that was kinda funny.

0:27-0:31 Tipping point was Toledo, huh?

0:32-1:08 Wow, could I get another shot of a Navy sweatshirt? I got a fever, and the only cure is more Navy sweatshirt.

1:09-1:25 Wow, this guy won't even show his face. Did Al Jazeera film this. I am expecting a man with an AK-47 to pop out any moment and hold up a newspaper.

1:26-1:40 Congratulations A-hole, you know how to use Wikipedia. Oh yeah, and BTW...No one except for the Ruler of Darkness (Jackie Sherrill) says Mississippi instead of Ole Miss. And there isn't a "The" before Hotty Toddy.

1:41-1:45 Yeah, Col. Reb is no longer our mascot. Ole Miss has no official mascot anymore. That's how screwed this guy is, he went from the football program with the most wins in college history to a football program without mascot.

1:46-1:50 Wow, this guy has enthusiasm.

1:51 Cue Cheesy music.

1:52 Cue Fire

1:53-2:47 Gratuitous fire sequence. Wow, so life-like. Is that CGI?

2:48-2:51 Picture a now unlicensed Col. Reb.

Wow.

Welcome to the pain my friend. Soon you will be ripping out urinals from bathroom walls after losing to Vanderbilt (again!). Soon you will be enjoying Billy Idol being played incessantly before football games. Soon you will now what it feels like to have bourbon rained down on your head like manna from heaven after getting jobbed by the refs after another loss to Alabama. Soon you will know the pain of following the game on the ESPN Bottom Line because the game is not on television anywhere. And then you will understand the kick in the ribs it is when the Bottom Line comes up Final after another 3 point loss. Maybe not this season, maybe not for a few more seasons. But every Ole Miss fan knows that the Grim Reaper is right around the corner with his Scythe just waiting for that opportune time to slice your nuts off.

So I hope the $301 was worth it.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Do you not know how to start a fire? These guys know how to start a fire.

I laughed so hard at this on Saturday night...

2008-10-06T16:58:00.000-05:00

"Loss of service, love and affection"

2008-09-25T16:01:00.002-05:00

I was browsing MSNBC.com trying to find out the latest on the Bailout/Suspension of Campaign/Oxford, MS (Tentative) Presidential Debate/Fall Storm Blitz 2008, when I saw this story. And I knew I shouldn't click on the link, but I just had to. I read, I winced, I laughed.

Urologists must be an odd bunch. I went to see one a few years back here in Owensboro and the guy had a personalized license plate up on the wall.

CME2PEE

I kid you not.

But I guess if you spent your day inspecting doughnut holders and juevos, I would probably have an odd sense of humor as well.

Do You Believe In Magic?

2008-09-11T20:41:00.002-05:00

So last week, it was the middle of the night and Jen's knee was hurting. She walked into the kitchen and warmed up her "popcorn" heating pad. When she turned the microwave on, our Ipod dock/radio came on. It is really weird. It is a cheap Ipod dock and it actually turns on quite frequently. But never in the middle of the night.

I opened one eye.

The Lovin' Spoonful was sing...

Do you believe in magic?

Weird, huh?

Somewhere, Rod Smart is Laughing

2008-09-04T23:06:00.002-05:00

Chad Johnson has now legally changed his name to Chad Ocho Cinco. The NFL has even said that he can wear Ocho Cinco on his uniform. This, will no doubt cause a lot of Bengals fans to go out and waste 90 bucks on another jersey outlandishly bright piece of cloth. (Rolling my eyes) If there is any justice in this world, these Bengal fans will never get laid

(Which doesn't look like that much of a stretch)

and/or be stuck with a "Ocho Cinco" jersey after Chad Johnson gets traded to a CFL team for some Fieldturf and protective cup or Johnson comes down of his glue sniffing/ecstasy high and admit on ESPN that it is a "my bad."

And the man we have to thank if Rod Smart, better known as He Hate Me. His jersey is the only thing people remember about wrestling mogul Vince McMahon's amazingly bad business plan that dared to dream, "people will watch football on TV, even if it is bad football." Seriously, the only thing I remember about the XFL is He Hate Me, Dick Butkis was a coach, and that I found out in a Rhode Island bar that you can't drink ugly football pretty.

So...

Congratulations Vince McMahon, Rod Smart, and Chad Ocho Cinco, you have set the wheels in motion for every moron (see Chris F'n Cooley) in the league to make a their team's roster look like the high score list on redneck bar's Golden Tee arcade game.

Oh yeah, and Mr. Ocho Cinco, (unfortunately, the New York Times hasn't ruled yet it is Mr. Ocho Cinco or just Mr. Cinco) thank you for perpetuating bad Spanish grammar as well. I hope that ever time you go through an airport, TSA gives you the most evasive search allowed by law.

Oh Sheena Easton...

2008-09-02T21:02:00.003-05:00

So, Jen and I were driving around a bout a week ago listening to the oldies station. Sheena Easton's 9 to 5 came on and I started to laugh uncontrollably. She wondered why. I told her it was because of Eurotrip. (I know, it is a guilty pleasure movie.) She looked at me blankly. I explained to her about the joke from the movie, but it didn't work that well. So, I found a clip...

I have never been to England. But I really hope I find a bar like this. And if I ever go to France, which I am sure I won't, I want to go with these guys...

Miles

2008-08-10T22:02:00.002-05:00

I have had this idea for a while. A story idea about an old man named Miles. I know where he starts out. I know where he will end up. I even know some of the means that will get him from the beginning to the end. But not everything. Here is what I have so far...

Miles felt his entire body with his right hand and found no blood. His eyelids slowly closed and then opened up. He did this a few times until he had the sense to open the door. By this time there were a few people approaching his truck. A man walked up to the door and shut it, keeping Miles in the driver's seat of the truck.

“Sir, are you okay?” the man yelled loudly at Miles.

“What?” Mile asked, his ears ringing for some reason.

Another person had already ran into the bank and has someone call an ambulance. No one thought to call a wrecker, but they would have to soon enough. Miles had wrapped his front bumper around the brick column of the bank's drive-thru. The pretty girl from the bank that always smiled at Miles had come outside with a worried look on her face. The manager right behind her, but he seemed more concerned with the bricks and mortar than Miles.

“Let me out of this son of a bitch,” Miles said to the man holding his door.

“Sir,” the man said, “an ambulance is on the way, I think you should just stay put.”

Miles looked at the man.

“Son, you better move your ass.”

The man did what he was told.

Miles walked around the truck to look at the damage. His old truck had took many a beating and had many whiskey marks, but this wasn't something that he could hide. He slumped down on the concrete, his shoulders sunken and his head dipped down towards the ground. Everyone that was waiting for the ambulance thought that he was hurt. He wasn't hurt, Miles just quickly came to recognize that his driving days were now over.

One More Thing About Reed

2008-07-30T20:47:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, Reed came over with my mom to visit Jen. He went into the kitchen, where we have a box of gumballs. Reed looks up at Jen and says, "Can I have a choking hazard?" Evidently, his mother has told him that he can't have gumballs because they are (you guessed it) choking hazards.

Happy 3rd Birthday Reed

2008-07-28T21:12:00.003-05:00

One of the best things about being back in Owensboro has been spending time with my nephew Reed. He always makes me laugh. He loves tools, and loves to tell me how big of a boy he is.

Lately, I have been helping him learn the art of peeing like a man (standing up, and preferably outside.) Here is a picture of us peeing on a Palmetto tree during Brittany's wedding.

A Couple of Letters Off

2008-07-14T20:31:00.004-05:00

I passed this nightclub a few days ago. I didn't make it down to see Mr. Zion. But I had to go back and take a picture. I guess Budweiser was focused more on the takeover than on spell check.

The other spell check moment came when I got my new license plate. The county clerk worker brought over my license plate, I took a double take. In Kentucky, the plates have three numbers and then three letter. I thought my last three letters were JEW. But it was a V instead of a W. When I said something to the County Clerk about it she said there had been some strange license plate. She said there were a bunch of license plates with PMS on them. She said they people either thought they were hilarious or were very upset.

Something Very Manly I Do That I Will Totally Admit Now That I Am Married

2008-07-07T21:51:00.004-05:00

Jen and I watch Legally Blonde: The Musical The Search For The Next Elle Woods on MTV every Monday. Every week, here are a few things that I say...

Why are they crying?
Wow, could that guy act like more of a tool.
Which girl is that?
Silently rolling my eyes.
She has become more bitchy lately.
Why are they crying. again?
That girl looks like Jamie Lynn Spears.
Which one is that girl again?
That dude annoys me.
Seriously, they are crying again.

Something Very Girly I Do That I Will Totally Admit Now That I Am Married

2008-07-07T21:03:00.006-05:00

Drinking With My Pinky Up. I don't know why I do it. Sometimes I do it just to make Jen laugh. But most of the times, it just pops up. Especially when drinking a beer.

I Thought Ratatouille Came Out Last Summer

2008-07-01T22:49:00.000-05:00

Ahh, The Reo Holiday Drive-in Movie Theater. My new muse. When I need a truly bizarre/funny story to blog about it always comes through.

Last Saturday night, Jen and I drove up to Reo to see Wall*E at the Drive In. We figured it was going to be packed, so we went pretty early. We packed a cooler full of Cokes (honestly, nothing but Cokes.) and brought some chairs and books to pass the time before the movie. We passed the time with ease for a while. There was a mother who was practicing fast pitch softball with her daughter, and every so often I would look up and listen to her scream about the need to "try harder" and "get her head in the game." So I, of course, stopped reading my book and secretly prayed that the woman would get beaned it the head with the softball. Not anything like being concussed, just enough to shut her up.

But alas, no glorious and sacrilegious prayer of a softball beaning was answered. So I went back to my book.

Until...

This Trailblazer pulls up right beside us. These people get out, but are asked to move their car closer to the poles so that two cars can fit in between the two poles. Instead of repositioning the car, the decided to move the car up one row. Which gave Jen and I front row seats to one of the most bizarre things I have ever witnessed at a Drive-in.

The parked their car and pulled out a box. They opened the box and began to assemble some sort of cage. All the while, their baby is still in the car seat crying like a wounded buffalo. Well the man keeps working on this cage. The woman comes around and starts to help. The begin to argue a bit. Sometimes in English. Sometimes in Spanish.

I nudged Jen from her book. I don't even say anything, she just says, "I know, I know."

So I try to read more of my book, but at this point I am just keeping the book open so that I can pretend to read. But my full attention is on my own personal Jerry Springer show right in front of us.

The baby keeps crying so the woman goes around the car and takes the baby out. Not of the car seat. She takes the car seat with the baby still in it around and puts it near the cage. Jen nudges me when this happens.

She quietly whispers, "Do you think they are going to put that baby in that cage?"

I stop and one thing pops into my mind.

Oh man, I hope these people don't put that baby in that cage, I don't want to have to testify against these people.

I assure her they will not put the baby in the cage, though I am sure of nothing at this point.

Still there is arguing in two languages. After the man installs the little wheel on the side of the cage, I become certain that they will not put the baby in the cage simply on the laws of physics, not common sense.

Once the cage is complete, the woman mocks the man and how long it took him to assemble the rather large cage. He puts some sort of bedding in the cage. And lastly, he walks to the concession stand to get some water for the water bottle. He goes over to the passenger side seat and comes out with two boxes with air holes. He pulls out two rats. That's right. R-A-T-S. Plural.

He puts the first one in the cage. I look over at Jen at this point and her jaw is on the ground. I help her pick it up.

When we look back over there, the man is kissing this black and white rat. Then he begins to put the rat into the face of the baby still in the car seat. I begin to laugh and say that it is something in my book. But I am really laughing because I know where this is head. Bad places.

The woman yells at the man, "I will kill you."

Jen swears we are on Candid Camera, but I think Maury Povich is going to come out any minute with another woman and a paternity test.

He puts the other rat in the cage. They load the baby back up in the back seat. They load the rats up right next to the baby in the back seat. When they close the door, the man and the woman embrace.

And it ain't pretty. Trust me. You don't want any sort of visuals on this one.

Then, they get back in their car.

Soon there after, the movie starts. But the show had been going on for a while.

Marriage: Or How I Came To Aquire Two Cats

2008-06-25T21:07:00.004-05:00

Sharing a bed is still and adjustment to me. I liked my big old bed and never thought for a second which side of the bed to sleep on. In fact, there were a lot of times when I would actually sleep facing the foot of the bed. Didn't matter. Didn't make the bed. Whatever. But things are different now in married life. Now I have to share.

And it isn't always fun.

Because sometimes I will be sound asleep and get woken up. When I open my eyes, there is an ass right in my face. I will still be wiping a bit of sleep from my eyes when a tail tickles my nose. I push the cat off the bed and go use the bathroom. The cats just stand right next to the toilet watching me take a midnight whiz. All the while, they are trying to rub their head on my leg while I try not to piss on them. Which thankfully, my trying has so far been 100 percent successful. I tend to think that Toby stares at me because he has been neuter and is fondly remembering the body parts he once had.

I like our cats. They have funny personalities. And I am almost to the point where I know their habits and their tendencies. Toby tries to open the window blinds every morning. Mona likes to hide away in the top of the bathroom cabinet crawlspace. Sometimes when I am waking up, I will splash some water on my face, Mona will jump out of the cabinet right past my face. Usually, thankfully I have yet to soil myself because of these feline Kamikaze jumps.

I have gotten used to never leaving a door open. I have even got used to them knocking things over in the middle of the night. When we first moved into our house, I thought for sure that the house was haunted because of all the things that seemed to crash.

I still think it is weird that they poop in a box next to the kitchen. But, they like to open the door to the bathroom when I am pooping and I am sure they look at me with the same bewilderment and disgust.

The first time Toby puked on the rug, I was so disgusted I had to go take a shower. I thought he was humping the rug at first and then he began to vomit. The sound he made sounded like someone threw a hub cab into a wood chipper. I told Jen that I wanted to throw away the rug that he puked on. She said we couldn't. So I cleaned the rug with gasoline and a bead blaster. I still don't like to step on that rug.

I like to play with the laser pointer. I like to pet them. Though Jen usually starts to mock me whenever I am petting them by saying, "Easy there Lenny, easy there."

I trip over them constantly. They love to camp out in front of my feet.

I don't understand what they eat. Usually, when Jen and I are at the grocery store I will point out a particular brand of a cat food. Jen will ask me why I picked that brand or flavor. Well, because the cat on the label looks like one of our cats. This seems totally reasonable to me. But Jen usually just rolls her eyes. She also won't let me buy a goldfish to feed Toby. I think he would like it. Sylvester always wanted to eat a goldfish in the cartoons. But, now, as I am writing this all down, I realize just how dumb it is for me to base owning and caring for a pet with a Loony Toon.

The scary thing is I talk to them. It weirds me out when I catch myself explaining something to Toby or asking Mona a question. For some reason, I think I am a bit more insane for talking to the cats than talking to myself.

They are good pets. I am getting used to them always being around. They are still getting used to me.

And tomorrow, I will wake to the sound of Toby trying to open up the blinds next to the bed, and hopefully, Mona's ass won't be in my face.

The Simultaneously Dumbest and Ballsiest Thing Ever Done In 6th Grade Social Studies

2008-06-08T23:13:00.002-05:00

I was driving with my dad to Knoxville last week to get his motorcycle tuned. When we passed through Somerset, I started to laugh. A lot. Dad didn't hear me because he was asleep. But remembered that I had a friend from Elementary and Middle schools that moved from Owensboro to Somerset. I even visited him one time in Somerset.

Jason Stevens.

He was nuts. He was the kind of guy that used to always get me laughing so much that I was the one that got in trouble instead of him. He had the nickname of Pee Wee because he loved Pee Wee's Playhouse (This was pre-arrest at the theatre).

The reason why I started laughing was I remembered a paper he "wrote" from Mrs. Brizendine's 6th grade Social Studies class.

Mrs. Brizendine had a reputation for being a tough teacher. I think there was even a little rhyme about her, but I can't remember that anymore.

Anyway, we had some sort of assignment to research a country and write a paper about it. We went to the library a few times. And all told, the paper was probably only a few pages long. But at the time, it seemed almost torturous.

We all walked up to Mrs. Brizendine's desk to hand in our papers. Well, Jason fumbled through his Trapper and finally found his paper. His paper was the last one turned in. Mrs. Brizendine picked all the papers up and looked at Jason's on top. And she lost it. She already had really red hair, but it looked like it was on fire. She yelled. She threw. She walked out. She walked back in.

No one knew what was going on. Well, except for Jason, I guess.

She walked back in and held up Jason's paper. She started off with a speech about "in all her number of years," but I can't remember the rest. Because I was too busy looking at the photocopied pages of the Encyclopedia that had a few lines highlighted with a yellow marker that Jason had turned in. Shock. Laughter. There was a little bit of everything. But the greatest thing was that the more Mrs. Brizendine yelled, the bigger the smile Jason had on his face.

Later that semester, Jason's family moved to Somerset. I visited them one time. Now, I think about everything and realize that there must have been some back story. Something must have been going on. I look back now and think, that sure looks like a cry for attention. But I don't know. I am sure that Jason was a legend in the halls of Owensboro Middle School that day. And close to 20 years later, he still is.

So Big And Strong

2008-06-04T21:07:00.002-05:00

So this morning, Dad and I were beginning an installation of a 80 foot truck scale. And since Reed loves anything to do with tools and heavy equipment, Dad and I invited Reed to watch us unload the truck scale. Well, he showed up this morning and I originally told him that he had to stay with his mom in the backseat of his car. And that one day when he was big and strong, he could help us. Dad let him watch us in the back of the pickup. He enjoyed looking at everything. Then, I look over and he was crying and they were leaving. Later today, Dad told me that they left because Reed told his mom that he was "going to help us because he was big and strong."

Ah my nephew, I have to admire his gumption...

Quick Story

2008-05-15T00:02:00.002-05:00

Maybe this is just the Loratab kicking in. But recounting the past day, I remembered this story while doing my urine test.

More than a few years ago, I had to get a drug test done when I got hired for the job I had in Rhode Island. Me and another guy went up to a lab to get the tests done. We were in the waiting room and the guy turns to me and asks me a question.

"Do you think these tests can detect cocaine?"

I stare at him with the dumbest look on my face ever.

"Uhhhh, yeah. Pretty sure that's why they are testing us for drugs. Why?"

"I did some on Saturday."

"Oh yeah, you mean Saturday like two days ago."

"Yeah."

"Good luck with all that."

When they got his test back they wanted him to take another test. He quit before the second test.

Me and My Urine Strainer

2008-05-14T23:14:00.002-05:00

This is a urine strainer. My urine stainer.

I woke up this morning with a pain in my side. Oh well, I thought, no big deal. I went to work and I told my dad that my back was hurting. It wasn't killing me, so I just kept on working. We stopped and got some lunch. I told my dad that the pain was weird. I asked him if he had ever had a pain that felt like it moved around. He said no. Well, when we got back to the shop, I sat down for about five minutes and knew I needed to go home. Jen was surprised to see me when I got home. I told her that I just needed to take a shower to clear my head and my sinuses and then take a nap. Turned the shower on and went to the toilet. Looked down and saw blood. Not good.

"Jen," I yelled from the bathroom, "can you come in here for a second?"

She came in a looked. Her eyes got a big as pie plates. That's when I knew it was serious. That's when I knew I couldn't just sleep this one off.

"Get dressed, we need to go to the hospital."

I took my shower and started to logically think about what all it could be. I figured kidney stone. Everything began to make sense in the way my pain moved and everything. After I got out of the shower, I got dressed and called my mom to see if I should just go to the doctor or if I should go to the emergency room. She said to try the doctor and take it from there.

So I went to the doctor. He asked me a few questions and the punched me in the kidneys a couple of times. He determined that I have a kidney stone. I got some blood and urine lab work done . He told me to drink a lot of water, get a urine strainer, and take some pain pills for any discomfort. Hopefully I will pass the stone in the next day or so. If not, well then we will have to figure out another plan of action. He also said that if I strain something out that I should put it in a glass jar. If it rattles in a glass jar, then it is a kidney stone. If it doesn't, then it is some sort of other debris. I am not sure what that means.

Well, I got my urine strainer. And it sure is a weird device. I mean it isn't that weird. It is just a strainer. The weird thing is that my urine strainer has a design flaw if you ask me. There should be a funnel nose below the strainer. Because right now it just strains. It doesn't strain AND funnel. This design flaw makes the strainer, how do I phrase this, less accurate. I guess what I am trying to say is this...

My next few days are going to be spent trying to strain my urine, which looks like a Mt. Dew and Dr. Pepper Suicide made at your local Little League Baseball park, and hoping it makes it into the toilet all the while my cats are staring at me, probably thinking, "and he think we are weird when we poop in a box in the laundry room."

Well, I hope you have enjoyed my triumphant return to my blog with an up close and always classy look at me and my urine strainer.

So Nothing Much Has Been Happening Lately

2008-05-14T23:01:00.002-05:00

It is one of those questions that people always ask you and the response is always the same.

What's been going on?

Uh, nothing much.

Someone actually asked me that today and I said that answer without even thinking. And now, it is late at night and I have begun to think what has been going on. And the answer isn't "nothing" anymore.

In the past two months:

Got married
Moved across the country
Became a small business owner
Became a pet owner (two cats)
Bought two vintage bicycles
Moved from a mass produced apartment to a nice little house
Became addicted to Mario Kart
Participated in an Over 35 basketball league, even though I am not over 35
And currently having kidney stones

Life sure can be fun, weird, great, different and any other adjective you want to insert here.

Sorry

2008-04-28T22:33:00.001-05:00

I swear guys, I am not dead. I will blog again. I just have to find time to write.

Cue Music

2008-04-10T23:14:00.002-05:00

So it was two weeks ago, Jen and I packed up all our things (thanks to a lot of friends) and headed off to the Bluegrass state. It was quite an adventure. Sedating cats is interesting to say the least, but maybe more on that later.

So just as we made it out of Arkansas, we stopped at Macadoodle's (which sells booze, cigs, lotto tickets, Fritos, gas, hamburgers, and I used to think they probably could sell you an illegal immigrant there but you can't. I checked. Just kidding. They were sold out.) I began to think of all my moments in the past 5 1/2 years in Arkansas. I thought about all my friends I made, the wife I met, and the adventures that I would have never gotten myself into and out of if I had not moved to Arkansas. And I picture them in a little video montage form. Kind of like the end of Seinfeld when they had the video montage to Time of Your Life (Good Riddance). So with that song in mind, I hit the road in Missouri laughing and smiling about:

My first date with Jen at Hugo's and being late for poker.

The very fun reception at the Fayetteville Town Center after we got married a year later.

Andrew Steger calling me up on a Friday night asking me what I was doing that night. Then after I would say nothing, I would ask him what he and Virginia were doing that night and he would answer, "coming over to your place cause you are grilling."

Holding Amelia Harkey until her mom came back to pick her up at the Greenhouse.

Going to church in a bar.

Having about 8 roommates.

The Great Pinata Fiasco of 08.

Meeting my Hetero Lifemate.

Throwing my Hetero Lifemate into the door (or sun tan lotion rack) at Neighborhood Market.

Knowing that no matter what I wanted to cook, set fire to, or blow up, Justin Jones and Nate McGooden always had my back.

Deep sea fishing in Mexico and having the boat surrounded by dolphins jumping all around the boat.

Meeting my friends the Eichenbergers, who were our friends that lived in Arkansas and now live in Kentucky just like us.

Sunday morning breakfasts.

Sunday morning trips to the movie theater.

The sound of Brian Hirshy's feet while traipsing over my living room floor and then opening the blinds like the Jaws of Life opening a crushed car.

The hole in the closet door, and all the pain associated with that hole.

Seeing the drunkest man ever with Andrew Steger, luckily it was neither one of us.

The Hot Pockets sayings which I could quote ad naseum but no one besides a select few would get them.

Parker Kelley's what's up shoulder motions.

Telling a woman at Brewski's that I was training to be a horse whisperer only to be caught by the actually manager of the Pauline Whittaker Equine Center. Seriously, what are the odds of that.

Living deliberately out in a cabin on the lake.

Watching Dave ride the bull.

Helping Matt do a lot of work to his house.

Walking into baseball games for free before it was fashionable.

Setting dumpsters on fire.

Honking at the Hodskins house nearly every day.

Being Santa's bodyguard.

And about a thousand other things I forgot. If you have been a reader of this blog you have probably heard a few of these stories. And if you haven't, oh well, maybe I might get nostalgic and tell and old story or too.

Most of all, it was making a lifetime of friends in a few short years.

Garbage Trucks Down Below

2008-03-19T04:40:00.000-05:00

It is early here, or late if you want to look at it that way. Which a lot of people do. Whenever the bellman brought our bags up to our room on Monday, he told is of a bunch of places that serve food until 4 a.m. I stopped him.

"We are from Arkansas, we don't need to go eat that late."

He smiled. I wanted him to call me "Young Squire" like in That Thing You Do, but he didn't. Oh well.

Jen and I have been enjoying the past few days in Chicago. Jen loves Chicago, I mean loves it. It took her almost half a day to stop tearing up just being in Chicago.

I like just taking it all in. The smells. The people. The hustle and bustle. It is a city that just feels alive and electric.

While walking around by myself yesterday morning (Jen was still asleep) looking for donuts and green tea, I bobbed and weaved through out the Gold Coast neighborhood lined with small-time jewelers, Louis Vuitton store, a Prada store, Walgreen's, and blue collar Irish bars. And with each step on the sidewalk, I began to understand the mentality someone could have living in the streets of Chicago. The pride of a neighborhood. A person's home is a person's home. And we take pride in where we live. Whether it is just of Michigan Ave. in Chicago, a new church building in Fayetteville, AR or a shack in the middle of Cacalote, Mexico. With out that pride and sense of home, we aren't really much of anything. We lack identity.

And that is what I have been missing most the past few months, my identity. My identity has been in flux, in waiting. I was neither here, nor there. I was about to be married, but not yet. I was about to move, but not yet. I was about to quit my job, but not yet. My life was one big duality.

Chicago is a city that has been built on dualities. It is a place that embraces it's checkered past, but has such a vision for the future. I have seen countless upon countless references to Al Capone since I have been here. We ate at a place a few days ago that had this really great picture of Al Capone and his henchmen laughing and posing at a picnic. While looking at the picture, I realized just how much the character of Tony Soprano looked like Capone. And underneath the picture was an advertisement for Chicago 2016. The city is trying to land the Summer Olympics and has an advertising blitz going on throughout the city. Just the other day I saw an old man wearing two stickers, one said Obama 2008 and the other said Chicago 2016.

A place where the past, present, and future collide like atoms in a nuclear bomb. Kinda like the South.

It got me to thinking that maybe Chicago is more of a Southern city that Atlanta. But that could just be my bias against Atlanta.

The duality of Chicago is no better evidenced than the place where Jen and I are staying at. Here that time seems spin more in a sphere than a circle. The Knickerbocker was built in the 20's and has that Gatsby feel to it. It was long rumored, like just about every other building in Chicago, to be a hangout of Capone's. And by hangout, I mean Speakeasy and Casino.

Another interesting thing about this hotel is that Chicago's other favorite son, Hugh Hefner, bought the place and made it into the Playboy Towers. Hef even kept an apartment here so he could walk the two blocks to the Corporate headquarters. And even though this old place has had quite an infamous and nefarious past, this place is amazing. The room we have been staying in is quite modern and chic.

I am amazed at how quiet it is up here above the streets. I just heard a garbage truck, but that has been about it. Down on the street, all you here are cars, horns, and the other white noise that everyone else walking around must just get used to. But for me, it was almost deafening at first.

But up here 50 ft above the street it is quiet.

Jen is asleep.

And it is 4:33 a.m.

And I am hungry.

I guess I was wrong about not needing to eat so late.

Unemployed

2008-03-10T21:31:00.001-05:00

As of tomorrow at 5 p.m.

I will be unemployed.

I am excited.

And since I am celebrating my marriage to Jen with two Todd Snider songs, I thought well shit, might as well celebrate quitting my job with a Todd Snider song too...

Looking For A Job...(Sorry, youtube won't let me embed this video...)

Something I Almost Forgot

2008-03-10T21:17:00.002-05:00

As many might remember, there was an incident last last Fall that will forever be known as Stu vs. Lafe. A few weeks back, I was back at Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, and I really needed Stu there so I could blame someone.

I had a bunch of things in my hand because I don't like to get shopping carts. Anyway, the very last thing I picked up was a 2 Liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. I was talking to my buddy on the phone. I was maxed out. Well, I was right next to the frozen food aisle and turning the corner. I dropped the 2 liter. It hits the ground and bounces up. I think, wow, that was lucky. At that split second I also remembered working for a milk company after High School and saw many a gallon jug of milk bounce and bounce and bounce.

So back to the 2 liter, it is spinning in the air like Mary Lou Retton. Spin after spin after spin. There is a random old lady walking down the aisle towards the frozen food. It finally hits the ground. BOOM goes the dynamite. The top blows off.

The Dr. Pepper skirts across the frozen food aisle like a rocket towards the biscuit section. And if you know this particular store, you will realize just how far this is. I tell my buddy I will call him back. I look around. Everyone looks at me. I look to blame Stu, but no Stu, he is inconveniently for me, is in Mexico. I hear someone say, Clean Up in the back. I spring for the self check out. I pay for my groceries, and don't go back to the store for a week.

The Worst Kept Secret Ever

2008-03-04T17:38:00.002-06:00

Just in case you haven't heard the latest, After the wedding on March 15th, we are moving to Kentucky. It has been the worst kept secret ever, but everything can be out in the open now.

Can't Sleep With Such Warm Feet

2008-02-25T00:47:00.002-06:00

I am tired. I really am. But I can't fall asleep. Don't think it is because I am thinking about the upcoming vows that will take place in 19 days and 16 hours. I am just thinking about so much. My mind is just full and racing. With weird stuff. Of course the future. The future right now seems to be vastly expanding rather than becoming more narrow. So much stuff to think about. Names and places. Thinking a lot about the past too. Names and places as well. So much to comprehend. So, not in any order, here is what all is racing through my mind.

Albert Michelson, the first man that ever measured light.
186,285 miles per second, which was what he measured light at.
No Country for Old Men, which just won the Best Picture Oscar.
Playlists for the wedding.
Heartburn, which I seem to be currently having.
How long I will have to work tomorrow.
My expense account and if I can find all my receipts.
How much I hate receipts.
I need to watch the movie Once.
Tony Kornhesier Show podcast, which I got to sleep to every night on my Ipod.
How am I going to go to sleep when I get married without noise.
Did they really shoot down that satellite?
What happened to D.B. Cooper?
Compiling a team of the best basketball players I have ever seen play live.
I need to find more time to read.
I need to find more time to write.
I need to find time.
How the human brain processes moments as memories after 7 seconds.
So the present moment only last 7 seconds.
I can't wait until the wedding.
I need sleep.
How many times am I going to see U2 3D.
I love Jen.
We won't text message as much as we do now.
Acronyms for Brian's site.
What was going on in my life a year ago, whatever it was, it wasn't anything like this year.

My Site Meter

2008-02-05T16:22:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I have a Site Meter on blog. I look at it every now and again just to see who has been reading my blog and why. I usually always get a good laugh out of it. I get hits from so many different place, usually Googling strange words. But today, I found one that made me fall out of my chair laughing. It seems someone from Metlife in NYC Googled "cockpit of a blimp is called a." And guess what the first website that Google listed. Thats right. Mine.

So now I am kind of wondering a few things...

1. Did the person from Metlife really think that the cockpit of a blimp is called a Newsted?
2. Am I about to be sued by Metlife, or worse, Metallica?
3. Will this some how get me a ride on a blimp?

What can I say y'all. My blog is just like Lost. Every time you get an answer, more questions pop up.

I Voted For Tomorrow, Today!

2008-02-05T15:57:00.000-06:00

So I voted today. And just like I pledged, I voted for Ron Paul.

And truth be told, the more I read up on the election, the more excited I get. Maybe that is just because it is still early. The tired and true political natures of both parties has yet to rear its ugly and vengeful head. It just feels like something is going to happen. Something big. It feels as though apathy is gone, and a powder keg is ready to go off. I don't know why.

I just feel better about this election than any I can remember. There has never been an election where I look at the row of candidates and realize that I could/would be happy with most of the field (in both parties.) I don't want to choose between the lesser of two evils. I don't want to vote for "None of the Above." BTW, if anyone can name the movie this above picture is from (not the one with Reese Witherspoon, who freaks me out) I will give them a prize. And if they actually own a copy of the DVD, I want to borrow it.

New Stuff

2008-01-21T21:10:00.000-06:00

Okay, okay. I know everyone of my tens of tens readers have been faithful to my blog. It is the go to source for good poop jokes and slightly misappropriate adventures of Lafe Benson. But lately, it is kinda lovey dovey. So, Jen and I have created our own blog about us.

March 15, 2008: Let's get this the hell over with

So you can go there and find the misadventures of two people planning a wedding in a ridiculous amount of time. And you can just keep on coming here to find your fart jokes.

These Pictures of You

2008-01-21T20:50:00.000-06:00

Jen and I went on a trip to Kentucky in early January. On the way back, we stopped at the Arch in St. Louis. Here are a few of the pictures.

This is a picture of me. We had just gotten in the elevator pod. It shook a little bit, and I had just told Jen something that I had never told her before. "Hey Babe, did I ever tell you that I kinda have a fear of elevators."

I took the picture on the way back. The weird lady that had a mustache told us we had a minute or two before we went back down. Jen was too afraid to get out, but I welcomed the chance. And took her picture.

If you look in the background, there is a cop car driving on the sidewalk.

This is Jen fighting one of the "invisible homeless people" that she was afraid of. It was quite amusing.

This was the craziest thing. There was a pin pad on a pole outside the Arch. Jen typed in the code 867-5309. Sirens began to go off. A missile came out of the ground. So we ran.

Engagement Photos

2008-01-19T09:36:00.000-06:00

Here are a few of our favorite engagement photos. Spencer Presley did the photography. He did a tremendous job. I especially like the bottom one. It is supposed to sort of look like the album cover to Bob Dylan's Freewheelin'.

PIWLTKITA Winner 1-17-08

2008-01-17T20:37:00.000-06:00

Ok, so earlier this week I called a local restaurant where we wanted to have our rehearsal dinner. I won't name the name of the restaurant. But I will give you a hint or two. It is in Fayetteville. It is named after a type of pasta. So I called them and I asked them all about the menu, the room, and everything. I told them everything about how many people we were expecting, what we wanted to eat, what day, everything. So I called back today to book the room and finalize the menu. I told them my name.

They guy went to write everything down and he said, "Uh, we already have the room booked for that night. Hold on."

Silence on his end, fury seething on my end.

"Yeah it is a private event."

I asked, "When was event booked?"

He replied, "Uh, let's see, back in December." He read off the name of the other party. "That's not you is it."

Pause. Silence. Anger.

"No."

More silence. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this earlier this week, when I called with all my information about the dinner being on March the 14th?"

"I sure to apolo..."

"Thanks." Click.

So this weeks winner is the management team at a certain Fayetteville restaurant. The runner up is the management team from a certain Springdale restaurant that let me talk for 15 minutes before they told me that they don't take reservations on Friday nights and that I "should just call a little ahead and they can get me a table."

New Year, New Resolution

2008-01-10T20:31:00.000-06:00

So one of my resolutions this new year is to not get so upset while driving. Well, I am doing better. But, I was reading my favorite book again, and found one of my favorite lines. Norman Maclean and his brother are fighting with a whore that had gotten drunk with Norman's brother-in-law. Maclean said, "Suddenly I developed a passion to kick a woman in the ass. It was a passion I never knew existed before."

So in the spirit of this great line, I am going to start a weekly tradition. I am going to start my weekly Person I Would Like To Kick In The Ass award.

This week's winner:

Traveler from Seattle.

I was on Hotels.com last night trying to find a nice hotel for the honeymoon. Well, while looking at the guest review of the Knickerbocker. Well, Traveler from Hotel gave the hotel a crap rating and a 8 sentence paragraph about how the hotel sucked because he couldn't figure out how to work the coffee machine and no one knew what the word "carafe" was. Dude, don't be that guy. The guy that a coffee snob. Seriously. Live a little. Drink an Old Style and be quiet.

Here is his right up.

The coffeemakers have no carafe. You simply put the cup underneath and it brews one cup at a time. That's OK, except the two people I talked to on my first day did not know how to operate them and did not seem to understand the word "carafe". They were gracious enough to send me a cup of coffee from room service, and I appreciated that. The 2nd day the desk clerk was able to explain how to get that precious one cup made. There was only enough coffee for one small cup. The 3rd day my coffee supply had not been replenished and the coffee making area still had my torn splenda packet from the day before. I'm from Seattle and I need my coffee. One small cup for a lot of hassle doesn't do it for me.

At least he could figure out the rating systems. Some people couldn't figure out if 1 was the highest rating or 5 was the highest rating.

Mele Kalikimaka

2007-12-23T22:49:00.000-06:00

And now back to the normal non-sense you have come to enjoy and love...

Best line from a movie, ever...

Jen got me a robe for Christmas. I am actually wearing it right now. And some how, some way, I need to recreate this scene with my new robe and a beer.

Merry Christmas everybody...

Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls brought me here

2007-12-13T23:20:00.000-06:00

My love's new ring.

I was sitting at my computer, trying to type something. Anything. But there was really only one thing that I really had on my heart. There was only one thing I wanted to say. There was only one thing I wanted to ask. And I couldn't take it anymore.

So I opened my top drawer and pulled the ring out. I had opened that drawer and looked at the ring every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to sleep. I bought the ring last weekend. My mind has been racing thinking of perfect times and perfect ways. Who should I tell, who should I not tell. The secret was killing me.

Screw it, I said to myself.

I grabbed my coat and a package of fudge that I wanted to give Jen. The entire way over to her apartment my mind just raced. This wasn't the way I planned it. I was going to do something elaborate, but I decided that wasn't my style. Flying by the seat of my pants, now that's more my style.

So I knocked on her door. She opened the door and had already started getting ready for bed. I walked in and gave her the fudge. She could tell something was weird about me. We went over to her desk. And I just started to laugh. And laugh. I couldn't stop giggling. I told her that I was sorry because I had been keeping something from her all week. So I pulled out the ring box out of jeans and got down on one knee. I told her how much I loved her. She started to cry. And I asked her.

We called her parents then we called my parents. Then she said, "Oh yeah, the answer is yes." We changed our facebook profiles.

She said it was perfect. I tend to agree. All these grandiose ideas of proposals that I had slipped in the background, and I realized what was really important. And that was just a simple question.

With a wonderful answer...

Anybody Have A Pitching Machine I Can Borrow?

2007-12-10T19:00:00.000-06:00

Not since I found Kige Ramsey's take on Nicole Richie having "the anorexic" have I laughed so hard at a Youtube video. I read about this in the newspaper today, and my jaw just dropped. Especially the part about the sizes. The Hammer, The Boss, The Hog and Mongo. Nice. Classy.

So as soon as I got home, I watched the video. And it was just as classy as I dreamed it to be. I mean there is a token Asian, a token hot chick for no reason whatsoever, Chris Sabo (my boyhood hero) mispronouncing testicles, and Mark Littell, who is a certified crazy sonofabitch. Seriously, the internet might have hit it's peak with this video.

Baba Ghanoush

2007-11-29T21:46:00.002-06:00

So the big guy is leaving on a jet plane, well, not to Mexico but to Michigan, but anyway. Tonight is the last night that Stu will be my roommate. And it is weird. We have lived together for almost a year and a half, and we have gone through a lot of stuff. Lots of good times, lots of dark times. But we have survived. And no worse for the wear.

When I moved in, we knew each other fairly well, but we weren't best friends. He was just a guy that needed a roommate during a tough time in his life. And through Sunday morning breakfasts and always fun trips to the grocery store, we became the best of friends. We are as different as two people could be. But we are the best of friends. I will miss him, a lot. But I have no doubts that our friendship will continue though I time as roommates is closing. But friendships are like the last episode of Saved By The Bell. You think everyone is going their separate ways. But in reality, everyone (at least the ones that you like) just reunites in a spin-off (except for Jessie who goes off to Columbia, but ends up as a stripper in Showgirls)
in which Screech and Bob Golic play Laurel and Hardy and dormitories are insanely big.

So good luck Stu. Screech and I will be waiting for you...

The Hamrick Wedding: An Index

2007-11-29T21:25:00.000-06:00

Man, I haven't done and index in so long. I almost forgot how to do it. For a while there, everyone stole my index idea, which I stole from Harper's magazine. So here goes.

Minutes we arrived late for the wedding: 8.

Excuse for being late given by Stuart Sullivan: It will be okay, weddings always start late.

My response to Stu's theory on weddings always start late: Stu, have you met Dave and Sarah?

Type of parking spot I parked in because we were running late: Handicapped.

Number of handicapped spots located at Prairie Grove Baptist Church: 25 plus, at least. Seriously, I don't think you could have more handicapped parking spots in one place unless it was at a wheelchair store.

Number of Lord Of The Rings analogies during the ceremony: Not sure, but they all confused me.

Number of times Shelli Jones was given props during the wedding: Twice.

Number of times Jen squeezed my hand tightly during the ceremony: A lot, too many to count.

Item handed to me by Justin Jones immediately after the ceremony: Flask.

Person at the wedding who could not recognize me without a hat: Amelia Harkey.

Arrival time at the reception of Jen and me: 1 minute before the bride and groom.

Cake that I ate: The groom's cake, which was slightly nerdy (LOTR themed) and delicious.

People at the reception who kept saying hello to me even thought I couldn't remember their names: 3

Contents of said flask: Marker's Mark.

People who I had to talk to outside: Luke, Justin, and Brett.

Most common thing said after meetings outside: Wow, that Maker's goes well with the punch.

Document that was being signed when I brought some "special" punch to the bride and groom: Marriage license.

Reaction to the "special" punch by Groom: Big smile.

Reaction to the "special" punch from Bride: Sip, smile, very big hug, and downing of said drink that would have mad Ted Kennedy proud.

Stu Is Heading Towards Mexico

2007-11-20T06:52:00.000-06:00

Everyone keeps asking me, what it is going to be like living without Stu when he moves to Mexico. Well, it will be different. But I have made a little video of what it is like living with Stu for the past year and a half. Thankfully, Dikembe Mutumbo helped me out and starred in this little video.

Is This Heaven? No, It's Iowa.

2007-11-19T21:50:00.000-06:00

A few weeks back, I was thinking a lot about Heaven. We had been discussing Heaven and Hell at church, and likewise, we were discussing the two at community group as well. I must say after all the discussions and teaching, I still don't think I am any closer to understanding what Heaven will be like. And truth be told, I am alright with that. I am fine with accepting that there are things that I will never be able to understand. I really am.

But I began to think about Heaven again last week. Because Joe Nuxhall died.

And I realized what week it was.

And I laughed a little bit.

I laughed because I thought about Heaven again. I wondered if Joe Nuxhall and Ryan were in Heaven. And if they happened to be, would they talk about the Reds? Would Nuxhall being telling all those stories that he could never tell on the radio? Would he tell stories about playing for the Reds at such a young age, the same age that Ryan died? I laughed. I laughed until a tear came.

I don't know what Heaven is like, and I am sure it is nothing like I just talked about. It's not a biblical portrayal of Heaven. In fact, it is a very secular way of looking at Heaven. It's very Field of Dreams way of looking at Heaven. I don't think people would concern themselves with anything but the worship and praise of God.

But who knows.

To quote another cheesy sports movie, "I have only come up with two hard incontrovertible facts: there is a God, and I'm not Him."

Splinters

2007-11-12T20:41:00.000-06:00

I got a splinter in my hand last week. Not too bad, just a small splinter in the palm of my hand. It hurt. Not a lot, but noticeable.

It made me laugh. I began to think about my mom, and how great she was at getting splinters out. Even though I would squirm and toss, she was always steady. She wielded that needle like a surgeon with a scalpel. Precise, quick, and always successful. I just got a little edge of a blade and got the splinter out. It wasn't as good as what my mom can do, but it worked.

But the thing that I couldn't get past, and still can't get past, is the fact that my mom never tried to prevent me from getting splinters. She never told me to stop playing out in the woods. I was never told not to play outside because I could get hurt. When my friend Jeremy came over, Mom never said I couldn't go outside.

And outside, there is all kinds of trouble. Much worse then splinters. When I was home about a month ago, Jeremy stopped by and we talked about all the trouble we used to get into. At one point, I looked at Jeremy and asked a very simple question.

How in the world did we survive?

He just shook his head.

We sat there for a second thinking about all the dumb things we did as kids. We thought about all those three wheeler wrecks, tree house demolitions, damming sewage ditches, firecrackers, tobacco sticks, fish hooks, and B B guns. How did I make it to this very point in which I am typing with all my fingers still intact? And for the past month, I have been wondering how in the world can little boys like Jeremy and me go through childhood generally unscathed.

And I didn't realize the answer until I got that splinter. And I realized how my mom always got those splinters out of my hand. She never tried to prevent splinters. She just fixed it, made it all better. And now, I realize how big of a deal that was. How she loved me enough to make my own mistakes, do my own things, and get my own splinters. And I wonder how hard that must have been for her. I can't even imagine. I can't imagine how much faith it took for her to know that I was going to mess up and hurt myself, and that she would have to make it all better. It's staggering.

And I don't really know what to say.

Except.

Thanks Mom, for all those splinters removed and love that let me roam.

2007

2007-11-12T20:37:00.000-06:00

So I was at a nursing home today. And I had to get into an Alzheimer's unit. I asked the guy what the password was and he told me it was 2007.

I never thought a password could be so sad.

While Perusing The Magazine Aisle

2007-11-09T06:24:00.000-06:00

So just in case you happen to be in Wal-Mart, check out a magazine called Hot Bike Baggers, sorry there isn't a good link. In it, you will find a picture of the fastest Bagger at the Bub Motorcycle Speed Trails this past year. Unfortunately, there is only a picture of the bike and the caption seems to doubt whether Dad's bike went 123 mph. The magazine actually credited Dad's riding buddy, Nick Roberts from Nick's Performance & Accessories, as the fastest Bagger at the entire meet. And the write up on Nick had three really good pictures and discusses the aerodynamics of fringe on leather jackets.

Oh yeah, and they will also be featured in a couple of other magazines, Cycle Source and American Rider, here in the next month.

Halloween, Always Fun

2007-11-09T06:22:00.000-06:00

I saw this online and it really made me laugh. Sorry, it is early, and for some reason I am up. I thought this was funny.

Calling Toyko

2007-10-29T20:41:00.000-05:00

I wish I had a picture of this. I really do. But I didn't have my camera, but every word of this is true. Because, as everyone knows, my blog is never a bit embellished.

Jen and I are in the Halloween Express in the old Shorty Small's (BTW, I really used to like that place. Cheese logs, mmmmmm...) last Friday night, looking around in the wig/mustache section. We happened to be next to a pair of novelty bare boobs. No big deal. We were looking at the mustaches when this little girl came walking by us. Well, I turned around and here this little 3 year old girl was grabbing these fake boobs. I looked over at Jen, to verify that I wasn't dreaming, and her mouth is wide open. I looked back at the little girl. By now, she was pinching the nipples. I look down and search my pockets, looking for my camera. No such luck. When I look up again, she is straight up calling Toyko. The little girl's mom came running for her, so I grabbed Jen's hand and when ran out, laughing all the way.

You Say You Want A Revolution

2007-10-24T19:21:00.000-05:00

So I am now a Republican.

Now this might shock a few people. But I decided to change my party affiliation today, actually I designated a party affiliation for the first time in the state of Arkansas. And the reason why is very simple.

I want to vote for Ron Paul in 2008. And one way or another, I am going to vote for Ron Paul in 2008.

I want to vote for a guy that has the balls the to have a "Don't Steal: The Government Hates Competition" sign on his desk. I like most of his ideas. He wants to go back to a more Constitutional country. He wants our government to make sense. He isn't going to sugar coat things. His plan for America is revolutionary, and that is why he won't win. But I think our country needs to be shaken up, and Ron Paul isn't scared to do the shaking.

I want someone that is different. And Ron Paul is different. He is not status quo.

I am tired of status quo politics.

I want something different.

I want the "Blessings of Liberty."

The United States of America is the greatest country in the world, and if you want evidence of that look at the Presidential election of 2000. The person with the most votes in the entire country lost the election. And no one brought out tanks. No one took the streets with assault guns. There was debate, but no violence. That sort of thing doesn't happen in most countries.

But our country needs to fix a lot of things. Our government is so wrapped up in rules and red tape that it cannot function. I want smart, constitutional, and functional government.

And I think that Ron Paul is the only candidate that wants the same kind of government that I want. Others candidates will just try to sell us that they want good, smart and functional government.

P.S. I technically didn't have to designate a party affiliation because in the state of Arkansas, anyone can vote in any primary, every two year. This makes no sense and seems unfair. So I officially became a Republican anyway. When I called the voter registration, the lady tried to explain this to me, but I can't grasp a system where you can vote for either party in a primary. After she officially changed my designation, I asked her if I got a card of anything like that. She said no. I laughed and said that I guess I would just know it in my heart. She didn't know whether to laugh, so she said thank you and hung up.

The Best Closer in the Game

2007-10-22T20:24:00.001-05:00

Well, the Red Sox are back in the World Series. A lot of the reason why the Red Sox are back in the World Series is because of Jonathan Papelbon, the best closer in the game.

Paps might be my favorite player on the Red Sox, besides Youkilis, who I usually lovingly refer to as "Fatboy." For example, "Run Fatboy, run." "Slide Fatboy, slide!"

But Paps is crazy. You know that guy in college that you knew that was always intense and slightly bat shit crazy, then you would see him at a bar and a party. You would think, oh no, this isn't gonna be good. You braced yourself for him to rip his shirt off like Hulk Hogan and then punch someone in the throat like Patrick Swayze did on Roadhouse. But after a few beers, and by few beers I mean a lot of beers, he came over and started to dance. Then he would offer you a few of his beers, and then he would give you a great big hug. And for the rest of the night, whenever you were in his general proximity, he gave you a great big bear hug. And of course, the next day he would go back to being just as intense. Well, that guy, that jackass you knew in college, well, he evidently is making millions of dollars now and is the best closer in the league.

Paps celebrating the AL pennant, at least he kept his pants on this time.

He didn't in this clip.

My Birthday Tradition

2007-10-15T21:21:00.000-05:00

Every year, on my birthday, I sip a really good glass of bourbon, I go for a walk and reflect on the past year and the upcoming year. When I get done with my walk, I go write a poem.

Well this year was no different.

#30 (Early to Rise)

Exact same place
only so many miles away
from the last 365

My life
has changed so much that
I can only dream and wonder
the where’s and what’s of the
next year

It did bother me
though I’ve told many it
didn’t
but it bothered me for
5 minutes

Early this morning
my feet had yet to
touch the carpet

It was 5:32 a.m.
and I thought
It’s still
early
to worry about all those
bullets and numbers
fired towards my head
knowing me,
I’ll catch them with my teeth
just to keep things interesting

And I’ll roll
those brown eyes
like dice,
bet the come
wait, hope
for what is next
What is next?

You Are Now In Bedford Falls

2007-10-15T21:04:00.000-05:00

These are my favorite photos from my birthday party

So if you haven't hear by now, I turned 30 last week. But the most amazing thing that happened was that Jen, Stu and Shelli planned a surprise birthday party. And it was so much fun. It was so great. I was having so much fun, but then they said that they had another surprise for me. And everyone pitched in a bought me a Wii. Wow. I got a little teary. If you want to see a video check out Stu's blog. It felt like my George Bailey moment.

Please Be Kind

2007-10-03T19:05:00.000-05:00

This movie looks really funny. Jack Black looks 38% funnier in glasses, it's a proven fact. I love the Apple website where you can watch good, quality movie trailers. I check it almost every day. Also, No Country For Old Men has a new trailer that makes me think that this movie is going to be even better.

Christmas In September

2007-09-30T22:15:00.001-05:00

Finally someone had the balls to say it.

Kige, reporting deep undercover at his local Bowling Green Wal-Mart, reports on the atrocities from the exploitation of Christmas. Does anyone else besides me envision a movie set in post apocalyptic times in which Kige Ramsey is a phrophet that leads an uprising using his reports from Youtube news, sports, etc. to organize a rebel coup d'état?

Two Pictures

2007-09-30T21:48:00.000-05:00

I am pretty bad about uploading my pictures off of my camera. But here are a couple I really like...

The birthday girl (and tiara) all tuckered out before her birthday part.

Dad telling some people in Fayetteville that this wasn't his car.

Happy Birthday Jen!

2007-09-29T08:31:00.000-05:00

Jen, you are so amazing. I can't imagine what the last six months would be like without you in my life. I'm am so lucky to have your love. I wish I could write a song or a poem to describe you , but I still can't find all the perfect words for you. So I will just leave it to my friend John, who wrote a song about us before there was even an us. Now whenever people ask me what brought me to Arkansas, I still answer, I don't know. But that isn't the truth, I want to say that a woman I didn't even know existed brought me here, but they would just think I am weird. And when I say weird, I mean weirder than I already am. I love you, happy birthday...

Settle Me by John ...

Last dance of the evening,
Watch your silhouette fade out of sight
There’s no chance you will believe me
But I think about you every night

I got a good feeling about you
The way you make me believe
I’m never alone
Across this land I roam
Fading to the dark side of me

I don’t know where this time will take us
And I don’t know when we will start
But the best thing about waiting
Is that you’ll always have my heart

I got a good feeling about you
The way you make me believe
I’m never alone
Across this land I roam
Your love for me will always be

I got a good feeling about you
The way you make me believe
I’m never alone
Across this land I roam
Someday your love will settle me
You settle me
You settle me

I Will Sing One Song

2007-09-25T19:33:00.000-05:00

So, on Saturday, I went to the Kentucky/Arkansas game with my friend Josh Lambert from back in Owensboro. I wore a Kentucky hat even though I am not that big of a Kentucky fan anymore. Well somewhere in between eating the best ice cream I have ever eaten (First Security Bank Tailgate, Holla!) and Josh yelling loudly, "Hey Whitey!" (Well that is a whole other story entirely) Kentucky beat Arkansas. It was interesting. Both teams acted like they didn't want to win the game for a while. Well, after the win, the fans were all celebrating with the players. Josh and I wanted to get our pictures with Marcus McClinton, who flexed his muscles like Darren McFadden. But we didn't. But we did sing "My Old Kentucky Home" with the rest of the Kentucky fans. And I am not afraid to say this, but I got a bit misty. It was nice. It is amazing how that song is ingrained in my head. I still know all the words. Even the really racist one that they taught us in school only 20 years ago.

I AM NEVER PLAYING FANTASY FOOTBALL AGAIN!

2007-09-25T17:08:00.000-05:00

Seriously, every year. I play and lose, play and lose. Freak injuries. I guarantee you that before the end of the year Chris Cooley will some how manage to screw me, and he is on my team...

For Justin "Rockstar" Jones

2007-09-18T20:11:00.000-05:00

Since Justin thanked me for teaching him about Stumble, I thought I would give him some props. He worked one day with me a few months back. We were driving to Mountain Home and Justin told me all about hos adventures being a cameraman for Jimmy Houston. So when I was finding the Cheap Seats video, I found this one and I thought that the Rockstar would like it...

View From The Cheap Seats

2007-09-18T20:04:00.000-05:00

There is one thing that has been permanently saved on my DVR. And most anyone that has ever been over to my apartment has seen it. It is an episode of Cheap Seats. And on Sunday, there was a Cheap Seats marathon, so I should have my fill of Cheap Seats for a while. ESPN Classic let go the Sklar brothersw, but luckily the guys are now on Entourage.

I'm all about the handblower...

Rece Davis, Rece Davis, Rece Davis...

Two Confessions

2007-09-05T00:36:00.000-05:00

1. I was a big Phil Collins fan in high school. Seriously, I don't know why, but seriously, I bought No Jacket Required before I ever bought a Nirvana album.

2. I have always been a steering wheel drummer.

Please Nicole, Listen to Kige

2007-09-04T20:09:00.000-05:00

Kige is right, I need to get tested soon...

I saw this online this weekend, and I laughed so hard, I thought my head would explode. And as always, the guy is from the Commonwealth, so I am just so darn proud.

Kige Ramsey is a reporter for Youtube Sports as well as Youtube News. He mostly does reports from his basement though sometimes he brings us news from the auto department at Wal-Mart. And if his Fantasy Football picks are right, my team will impale other teams like the Spartans did on 300.

But the great thing about Kige is the way he brings me news. Brian Williams dawdles around and hems and haws. Anderson Cooper is too busy trying show off his stunning gray hair. Katie Couric shows them off. Not Kige. Kige gets down to the point. He cuts through all the crap and tells me what I need to know. But I love how he lets us into the bright lights and glitz of television journalism.

Kige breaks down the 4th wall...

The Bottom

2007-09-04T19:55:00.000-05:00

So last week I was feeling pretty sick. So I went to the doctor's office. And no, it wasn't the doctor's office I have previously mentioned.

My sinuses were wreaking havoc on me. The doctor gave me some antibotics. He also said that he could give me a shot that would speed things up. "Sure," I said, even though I am not a very big fans of shots.

So the nurse comes in the room, and that's when things began to get weird.

She has the syringe and tells me that she is going to give me a shot. In the bottom.

I asked, "In the bottom of what?"

She told me that I needed to turn around and drop my pants. (How come I have so many stories on my blog that involves me with my pants off?)

Here I am, bare ass and all. The nurse asks me which side I want it on. I told her that I didn't really care. Right side, I guess.

She told me to lean over towards the left so that she could give me the shot. And then she gives me the shot, not in my bare ass, but in my hip. My hip!

When I asked why I had to drop my pants, she never gave me a really good answer. But at least, I have another bare ass Lafe story...

Stu's Birthday Is Today

2007-08-27T07:05:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Stu... Imagine that, I took a picture while Stu was usuing the phone, that is oh so rare...

Bonneville

2007-08-26T21:43:00.000-05:00

So, as everyone knows, my Dad and I went to Bonneville last year. When we were going through the tech inspection, a guy from National Geographic Channel was filming us. He complimented Dad on his bike. We asked him when the show was going to air and he said some time in the winter. Well, winter came and went, no TV show. Well, it (Need For Speed: Bikes) aired last week. Stu watched it because he was sick that day. When I got home, he said, I looked for y'all but I didn't see you. So, I watched it and I stopped it. Stu, I said, there's my dad right there, and there is me. He said, sorry man, I've had too much Nyquil. So Dad recorded it too. I called him and told him that I saw us on TV at about the 40 minute mark. Well, his DVR crapped out at the 38 minute mark. So here are a few pictures with my camera for him to look at.

I told him that I am really glad I didn't see this until last week because I would have had to go to the salt flats again...

By the way, Dad is walking the bike out, his buddy Andy is on the bike next up in tech inspection and I am in the green shirt. Also, thank you Justin Jones for use of the cowboy hat...

2007-08-24T22:23:00.000-05:00

Friday night, Dave, Sarah, Jen and I went out to dinner at La Huerta and then to Lokomotion. We played Skeeball. We fed the fish, which is a Jen and Lafe tradition. We played a few of the other games. But there were a few teenagers that were riding the mechanical bull. We watched and laughed. Well, I decided to go first. It didn't go so well. Every time the thing started up. Boom. On my ass. I am fairly certain that you are supposed to ride a bull for 8 seconds. Well, I had three tries. And all combined, I probably clocked in a total of 1.78 seconds. Here is a video of my ride...

After everyone finally stopped laughing at me, not with me, I told Jen that I would pay for her to ride the bull. I asked Sarah if she thought that Dave would ride it if I bought him a ticket too. She said yeah. So I went over and explained to the lady at the counter that I wanted to buy two tickets for my friends. She told me to get them to come sign the waiver. So they did.

Jen was pretty good at the bull. She was laughing a lot. She held on for a lot longer than I did. But the real surprise was Dave.

Dave is going to be the next (uh, insert famous bull rider''s name here.)

Here is the video. It's not the best quality. But you can see him ride the bull for a good, long time. You can even hear the catcalls that Sarah let out...

I Can't Find This On Itunes

2007-08-21T23:06:00.001-05:00

Their World

2007-08-20T22:22:00.000-05:00

This morning I was walking out the door, trying to prep myself for the meeting that I knew was going to go bad, and I got half way down the stairs before I noticed. A small deer was grazing on the edge of the woods next to my apartment. The fawn's ears stuck up as it raised it's head. It stared at me, and I stared back. I am not exactly sure how long I stood there just staring into those black eyes. I began to walk towards my jeep, but it just stood there. Still staring. The fawn eventually got tired and began to graze again. I wanted to go towards it, maybe find something for it to eat. But the closer I got to my jeep, the more it stared. Finally, it darted off.

On my way up the mountain, I thought about the fawn. I began to wonder.

Are they trespassing on our world?

Or are we trespassing on theirs?

I began to think about Genesis.

"Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth."

But the more I thought about it today, the more I realized what I think subdue and dominion over actually means. I began to think of how the King of Kings ruled and still rules today. Through serving. Through grace and mercy.

Not with an iron fist. He could have if he wanted to, but instead he chose to serve the world, to sacrifice, to love. Maybe that is the way we should look at being stewards of the Earth?

I don't know. All I know is I saw a deer this morning, and it rocked my world. Not what I was expecting this morning as I was running to work.

For The Crack House That Needs That Special Touch

2007-08-13T23:14:00.001-05:00

Target is selling this doormat on their website. It is so classy and seems to shout "F the Police!"

Sorry I haven't Posted In A While

2007-08-12T22:42:00.000-05:00

I promise I will get to writing soon...

Those

2007-07-30T21:26:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I have to go in to get a physical today. Besides the fact that I don't like doctors, excluding Dr. Jason Lofton and Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, getting a physical just weird me out. Especially the weird little place I have to go get my physical. The old hippie doctor always weirds me out, and if anyone heard about my little panic attack at the Farmer's market a few weeks ago in Fayetteville you will understand why.

Anyway, when I first moved to Fayetteville 5 years ago, I had to go get a physical for work. Well, this old hippie doctor came in to give the my physical. She had long stringy hair with some weird hippie hair clip in her hair. She had old hippie glasses that were bigger than Larry King's glasses. She does my blood pressure. She checks my reflexes. Then she politely asks me to strip down to my boxers. Well, I was just so happening to be wearing a pair of Halloween boxer shorts because it was the season.

She asked me to turn my head and lower my boxers. Up until this time, she had been putting on the gloves and whatnot. I have my head turned dread this hippie lady squeezing my nuts while I try to muster a cough.

"Well, those are cute," she says as she begins to squeeze.

I cough, gasp and ask, "When you say those, what do you mean those?"

She replies while unsqueezing, "Your boxers."

At first, I was relieved. I thought she was talking about, well, you know. And I am not exactly sure if calling those cute would be the proper compliment. But even if she was just talking about my boxers, it still weirded me out.

You have no idea how much I hope hippie lady isn't there. Oh yeah, and I will be wearing the plainest underwear I can possibly find...

And The Winner Is...

2007-07-24T21:18:00.000-05:00

John Nelson...

For using the word "gerbiling " for the first (and hopefully last) time on my blog. Your grand prize...

Taaaaadaaaaaa!

An unopened package of T2 trading cards that I bought at a store in Waldron, AR. Congrats...

Of Snakes And Scales

2007-07-19T21:27:00.000-05:00

So whenever I tell someone that I work with scales they always say, "You mean like scales on a snake?" I am not sure why they always think this. Or if they believe that there is someone that harvests snake scales. Anyway, I always explain to them that I do not work with snakes. That is until last week.

(Anything that is in bold italics will be my more cynical self reflecting on my story like an audio commentary on a DVD.)

So last Thursday, I put my hand down in a truck scale load cell compartment and noticed something rather quickly. At first I thought it was a lizard. Seriously Crocodile Hunter, you don't know a snake from a lizard. Then I realized it was a snake. I yelled at Carl, my temp that day, to get out of the scale immediately. He popped out of the like Punxsutawney Phil out of that scale.

He said, "Hey, Lafe, whats going on?" Actually he said WTF?!?

"Carl," I said calmly, "There is a snake in the scale." Actually, I think it would be correct to say that I yelled, "There's a big f'ing snake in the f'ing scale.

I walked over to my truck and got a couple of pry bars and a can of spray paint. "What are you going to do?" Carl asked. Something bad Carl, something bad. "Well," I told him, "We have to kill that snake." Carl looked at me with a look that seemed to say, "WTF is this we shit, whiteboy?"

I crawled down the manhole and began to make my way towards the snake. I began to spray paint on the snake. It recoiled. When I could finally get a good look at it, with all the spray paint. The best you could come up with was a pry bar and a can of orange spray paint. Lafe, did you become a tagger all of a sudden and not tell anyone?

I hit the snake on top of the head with the pry bar. I began to strike and hiss at me. It came after me, plain and simple there Indiana Jones. I strangely wasn't scared. Okay, so I pissed on myself a little bit. I pinned it's head down with the pry bar and began use a wood block to exterminate the snake. That mofo was coming at me so I squashed that thing's head with a two by four as many times as I possibly could. Bastard.

I brought it up out of the scale pit when a few of the truck drivers came by and said, "Wow, that sure is a big copperhead. That thing would have probably killed you. You sure are a brave sonofabitch." There is always such a thin line between stupidity and bravery.

I replied, " I didn't realize it was a copperhead. I wouldn't have gone down in there if I would have know it was a copperhead."

I looked over at Carl and said, "I am going to get a drink of water really quick and we will get back to work." I really just walked over to the ditch next to the scale and dry heaved for like half an hour.

Genesis 3:14 and 15
So the LORD God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, Cursed are you above all the livestock and all the wild animals! You will crawl on your belly and you will eat dust all the days of your life

And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers;
he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel."

Stu with the dead snake. He immediately washed his hands after this picture.

Why Do I Still Go Into Convenient Stores?

2007-07-19T21:09:00.000-05:00

Marble, Arkansas

So I stopped into Phillips 66 to wash my grubby hands and get something to drink. When I went into the men's bathroom, I began to wash my hands while an older gentleman stood next to me. Okay, little weird. He asked me if my day was over, and I said yes. I look over at him and his is shorter than me. Plain white t-shirt and sweatpants with suspenders that would make Larry King jealous and it didn't look like he had any teeth. He laughs and then proceeds to turn every knob on the condom machines to see if he could get a free condom. I began to dry my hands and he patted my shoulder.

Bu-bye...I hauled ass out of there.

Seriously, all I wanted to was wash my hands and buy an ice cold Sunkist, because they are delicious, and this is what I get...

I swear, if the guy would have said anything about my muscly arms I would have decked him...

Let's All Go To The Lobby

2007-07-15T11:07:00.000-05:00

I just saw this trailer for this documentary, and my jaw just dropped. I had to actually check to make sure that it was a documentary. It is legit.

Also, I found a preview for Into The Wild. It is based on a great book by Jon Krakauer. One of only three books that I have actually had a strong physical reaction to. I read this book in the middle of summer and each night I had to put a blanket on while reading. The other two books by the way were David Foster Wallace's Brief Interviews with Hideous Men (I vomited after reading it) and Ron Carlson's At The Jim Bridger (which I vomited after reading and then put on a blanket and vomited some more).

Happy National Gorgeous Day

2007-07-09T20:32:00.000-05:00

Happy Gorgeous Day all you beautiful blog readers...

34th Annual Rosco P. Coltrane Caption Contest

2007-07-06T12:15:00.000-05:00

Please comment your best caption for this picture...

It is almost like the jokes write themselves...

The winner of this contest will get a great (and secret) prize! All other contestants will have to live with the fact that they just couldn't think of a funny enough joke about a kid crawling up the asstube of an elephant.

Contest Rules:
All decisions of the contest judge are final. Contests are governed by the laws of The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane and the laws of Luxemburg applicable therein. All prizes must be accepted as awarded, are non-transferable and are not convertible to cash. The odds of winning depend on how many eligible entries are received. Any rebroadcast, reproduction, or other use of the pictures and accounts of this game without the express written consent of Major League Baseball is prohibited.

Hey Sawbones, I'm Just Carrying On An Old Family Tradition

2007-07-05T20:28:00.001-05:00

(Boy, oh boy, I love being able to quote Hank Jr. Who wrote my favorite line from a country song. I have loved some ladies, and I have loved Jim Beam, and they both tried to kill me in 1973.)

So I was telling a lot of old Fourth of July stories yesterday. About when my dad, my uncle Jerry and I would drive down to Tennessee and get illegal fireworks. Fireworks used to be illegal to shoot off in Kentucky. But it was always good that we had the Sheriff come by an watch our display. Anyway, my Mom and Dad used to have legendary Fourth of July parties. Mom has never been one for fireworks, but tolerates the fact that all Benson men love to blow shit up. It is somewhere in our DNA. It is a family tradition.

I remember one year our grand finale came a bit to early when a bottle rocket inadvertently strayed into a large paper grocery bag full of illegal fireworks. There was a lot of burnt grass that next day.

For the past few weeks I have passed by the many, many fireworks stands and thought to myself, wow, fireworks sure are dumb. But then, last night, as Brian Hishchy almost get hit by a roman candle from his future brother-in-law, the Benson blood began to flow. An d I knew that I had to blow something up. So here is an index of last nights 4th of July festivities.

Locations of Fourth of July Parties I visited: Jeff and Ruby Bowles' house and Gennie Davis' father's house

Number of rainbows that were spotted on the drive up to Rogers: 3

My drink of choice: Michelob Light

Reason for my drink of choice: Because I like the way the bottles look like lava lamps

Drinks I brought for the rest of the crowd: 12 pack of Rolling Rock

Reason why I brought Rolling Rock: Because most of my friends are beer snobs and refuse to enjoy the delicious nature of a good old fashioned blue collar beer

Why we stopped playing Frisbee in the front yard: Because the neighbors were getting riled up

First kind of fireworks that I set off: Champagne popper

The age of the boy that I helped set off Champagne poppers: 3

My reply when he told me he was three: Guess what, there was probably a little boy the same age as you that made this champagne popper in China

Number of Champagne poppers set off: 6

Number of duds: 1

Person I went directly over to after setting off Champagne poppers: Justin "Rockstar" Jones

What I said to Justin "Rockstar" Justin: Do you have your car, I need to go get fireworks. I got to blow something up, now!

Name of fireworks store Justin and I went to: Fireworks City

My comment to Justin upon seeing Fireworks City: Surely we can find some fireworks at a place called Fireworks City

Joke that Justin did go for after my comment: Don't call me Shirley

Location of Fireworks City: A cow pasture

General smell of Fireworks City: An intoxicating mixture of cow shit and gun powder

Most offensive name of a fireworks display that totally cheapened 9-11: Let's Roll

Fireworks display that was suggested by a fireworks professional: The Matrix

The selling point of said fireworks professional: It's cool as shit and it has 26 shots

My answer when the cashier asked me if I wanted my receipt for The Matrix: I don't think I need a reminder of how much money I wasted on something that I just launched into the air

Angle I was asked to point The Matrix towards by Gennie Davis' dad: Towards all the neighbors' houses who were pointing fireworks at his house

The results I predicted for The Matrix: Either really cool or will set someone's house on fire

The actual results: Really cool

Really cool or cool as shit: Cool as shit

Best reply to Jen when asked if I was drunk: No baby, it's too hot to be drunk

Best accessory of the night: Airhorn from a neighbor

My quote about airhorns and next year's 4th of July: That airhorn is totally unnecessary and you can bet your ass I am going to have one next year

Way to describe my 4th of July if it was to be summed up in a Mastercard Commercial: Case of Rolling Rock: 12 dollars, Fireworks display: 50 dollars, Carrying on a family tradition with all digits still intact: Priceless

A Cowbell In A Chicken Restaurant

2007-07-05T20:22:00.000-05:00

So I was at the drive through of Chick Fil-A today, which I have learned is Fall Out Boy's favorite restaurant from inside sources. Anyway, I was just getting an order of waffle fries and was planning on using the free Wi-fi. When I got up to the window to pay, an woman who looked to be from India began waving a cowbell in my face.

She said something which I can only think was English. It wasn't until she pushed my money back that I realized I was the 100th customer. Woo hoo!

And suddenly, I wished I would have ordered more than waffle fries...

The Fourth

2007-06-26T21:35:00.000-05:00

Sorry, I am not being very creative lately...

But...

I passed by a lot of fireworks stands in the past week on my way down through Southwestern Arkansas. And almost every time I passed by one, I began to sing this song by Paul Thorn...

My New Tattoo

2007-06-21T20:18:00.000-05:00

Just kidding. I hit stumble on my browser and this is what it gave me. I laughed my, well, Pac-Man game off. I like Pac-Man as much as the next guy, but evidently not as much as this guy. I sure hope Pac-Man doesn't take a wrong turn.

Oh yeah, finally after 375 posts, the first nudity ever posted to my blog...

The Simple Things We Used To Do

2007-06-19T20:38:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was on my way home from work and stopped by the Hodskins to drop off something for the boys. One of my favorite things to do is stop by with little toys for the boys.

I had picked up some Styrofoam planes for them at the little dollar store in Fiesta Square. I was walking from the movie theater to Hastings and saw the planes in the window. I bought two and brought them over to Aidan and Patrick.

So we spent probably 30 minutes in their front yard trying to get the planes to do loops. It was a really big deal when Kent finally got the planes to do two loops.

I remember when such simple things used to give me so much pleasure. Nothing fancy. Just anything I could find, my imagination, and joy. I miss those days of cardboard castles. I miss those days of mini-van saunas. I miss those days of cow trough swimming pools.

Depending On The Street

2007-06-18T21:00:00.000-05:00

This is from the new HBO series, Flight of the Conchords. Stu and I were dying watching this...

Super Mario Brothers Meets Raging Bull

2007-06-13T21:47:00.000-05:00

I found this video and found it both oddly funny and slightly disturbing.

Suddenly Feeling Old

2007-06-13T21:36:00.000-05:00

So, I am at Arsaga's at this present moment. And for some reason, I have managed to come here on High School night. Anyway, so there are these punk kids (how come I think all teenagers are now punks?) are listening to their ipods way too loud and are singing the words to Ice Ice Baby. And the thing that has just struck me is that they know all the words because of their teenage irony act. But the sad thing is that I know all the words to Ice Ice Baby because I remember when that song was wicked bad...

To quote Danny Glover, "I'm getting too old for this shit..."

Or Elton John, "The circle of life..."

New Postal Service Song

2007-06-13T12:24:00.000-05:00

I just downloaded the new Postal Service cover of John Lennon's Grow Old With Me. Amazing, seriously, amazing. Hopefully this song will replace Journey's Don't Stop Believing, which has been stuck in my head since the ending of Sopranos.

A Quote

2007-06-11T20:29:00.000-05:00

I have been writing something, but I haven't got it right just yet to post. But this is the quote that keeps hitting me in the head like an aluminum bat...

The human heart is the throne of God, the council-chamber of the devil, the dwelling of angels, the vile heath of witches' Sabbaths, the nursery of sweet children, the blood-spattered scene of nameless tragedies.

Frank Crane

Another Weird Moment

2007-06-11T20:12:00.000-05:00

My dad called me tonight and asked me a strange questions.

Sidenote: The most awkward question to date my father has asked me was one time when we were walking through the International Bar-B-Que Festival and saw a sign advertising all the bands that were going to play. One band was Tapdatass. My dad asked me what that band was called. I had to pronounce the name phonetically a few times. Then he asked me, what does that mean son? I looked at him funny for a second. Then he said, Ohhhhhhh, okay.

After he asked me if I was going to be able to make it out to Bonneville this year, he asked me a question I never thought he would ask.

"Do you know what Burning Man is?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because it is going to be around the same time as Bonneville and we might go."

Okay, here is the point of my blog where I point out that none of my friends will ever have their fathers say that they might be going to Burning Man.

"It's pretty wild, I hear. People do a lot of drugs and get pretty crazy."

"Yeah," he said, "They said if you are offended by nudity it is best not to go."