Really People? Seriously?...A return...for a second time!

Hello Dear Reader.  Yes, I have decided to take pen in hand and begin writing my weekly blog again. Well, in this case I decided to place fingers on keys and begin typing my weekly blog again. I was doing really well at it for a while and then things occurred which caused me to put off the weekly posting.  It's not that funny things stopped happening to me, it's just that there was not enough time for me to really put into this activity the time that was required to make my personality shine through (and you definitely want my personality to shine through.).  But I have turned over a new leaf...I am going to ensure that I post something every week.  My first post will take place on Wednesday, April 30, 2014 and will feature a character from a past post. Which character you ask...you will just have to review the back catalog and read my post.  Until next time dear reader, always look for the funny.

Don't Dance With Your Food

There are not many things that bother me (Alright, that’s a gross misstatement as there are many things that bother me, but just go with it for now) . . . but lately there is something that is happening here in my pleasant burg that really disturbs and upsets me.  I see it as I come home from work or when I am picking up the children from their respective daycare or after school centers and it is really disturbing. 

What is this disturbance you ask?

Well rest assured I am going to tell you, but let me set the scene for you first. Picture it, a tired, slightly overweight black man (ok, for the nitpicky amongst you I will take out the word slightly) is driving down the highway.  He is hungry because he did not eat lunch that day (totally his fault) and he is feeling rather irritable because he has made a promise to himself to eat better and he is really craving some seriously fattening foods, but he has decided that for dinner he will eat some tuna on wheat bread (believe me this is huge considering that I was really craving Chinese food).  He is pleased with himself when suddenly, as he is driving down a busy highway, he sees a dancing sandwich.  He rubs his eyes to make sure that he is not seeing things because he is hungry after all and -- sure enough -- the sandwich is still there doing  “the wobble.”  Now clearly, this is a person in a sandwich suit whose sole job is to entice customers into his or her lair by dancing provocatively in the streets. I have a chuckle and continue to drive down another busy thoroughfare to go to the local Wal-Mart.  

As I get close to my destination, I cannot believe what I am seeing.  I see a person in an Uncle Sam costume dancing with another person in a Statue of Liberty costume.  I begin to think to myself, what in the heck is going on with this crazy town in which I live when suddenly, I then come across not one, but two people strumming make-believe guitars with signs advertising great pizza prices.  Really people?  Seriously?  These sightings are so wrong on so many levels that I am having trouble determining where to begin.  Let’s begin with the climate…it’s hot.  In fact, this city has yet to experience a solid week of cold weather for the winter and we are now quickly approaching summer.  So these people are dancing and cavorting in the streets wearing this hot garb and attempting to entice people to visit their places of employment.  This has got to be one miserable job, which brings me to my next point.

I ask you dear reader, have you ever driven down a highway, seen a dancing sandwich and thought to yourself, “Wow, that dancing sandwich makes me want to go in and purchase one.”  I know personally, I am not that easily swayed.  As for the dancing Statue of Liberty and Uncle Sam, (who were both pitching a tax return service) I just found them to be creepy and if I were looking for an establishment to help me with my taxes, these two would not be where I would want to take my personal papers.  In fact, once I saw them, I sped up.  Just recalling this encounter has me all wound up again.  And finally, can someone please tell me what strumming a fake guitar has to do with hawking pizzas?  I do not begrudge anyone for earning a decent living.   In fact, I admire it; but a part of me does wonder why these people don’t ask to have a job in the store making the sandwich or pizza, or greeting the customers when they come in for tax advice.  A part of me would like to know if these people truly feel that their antics in the street have generated more revenue.  If I had to guess, I would say that it has not.  I think that most people are like me . . . amused (or freaked out) at seeing them and keep going on with what they had originally planned.  However, on occasion, I have been known to be wrong, so if there is anyone out there who is reading this and works as a dancing sandwich or a fake guitar strummer, please let me know if your job does generate more business.  If I find out that I am wrong, I will write a “Part Two” to this story and will feature you in the blog.  Goodbye until next time dear reader and remember…always look for the funny.

Really People? Seriously?: Really People? Seriously? A ReintroductionHello ...

Really People? Seriously?: Really People?  Seriously? A Reintroduction
Hello ...: Really People?  Seriously? A Reintroduction Hello Dear readers.  I guess by now you can tell that I have been remiss in doing my blog....

Really People?  Seriously? A Reintroduction

Hello Dear readers.  I guess by now you can tell that I have been remiss in doing my blog.  Well to be quite honest, I have had a lot of things going on in my life and actually found myself in a place where I didn’t feel like writing.  My younger brother Dee died in January of this year and he was one of my biggest fans and supporters.  In fact, the last time I saw him he asked me when I was going to post my next blog.  I told him that I would do so at the end of the week, but I never got around to doing it because things got in the way and I figured that I had time and would do it later.  Unfortunately, my brother never did get to read my next blog posting, which dealt with my travels in Las Vegas and I sort of lost the passion for it. 

A couple of weeks ago, I went to visit my parents and some of my brothers and sisters.  This was the first time that we saw each other since my brother’s funeral, and as we reminisced and shared humorous stories about Dee, I felt his presence.  That night, while I was back at my home, I dreamed that Dee told me to keep writing because I have a humorous way of telling stories and that I should keep doing it.  Readers, this dream seemed so real to me and I remember every word.  When I woke up, I decided that this was the week that I would begin the resurrection of my blog entitled “Really People? Seriously?”  Whereas in past musings, I always spoke about the crazy things that happened to me, I am going to branch out a little more in this new resurgence and wax poetically about funny things that are happening in the world.  Don’t worry though, I am certain that funny things will continue to happen to me, and when they do I will write about these as well.  So welcome to the new era of “Really People? Seriously?” and let me know what you think of the new concept.  The first posting will come out sometime this week so be on the lookout for it and remember dear reader . . . always look for the funny . . . Dee did.  

Viva Lost Wages-Part 1

First, let me say that I had high hopes for the city of Lost Wages, I mean Las Vegas, because I had never visited and I was excited about the sites that I would see.  However, my hopes were clearly dashed once I arrived.  First, as I was struggling out of the airport to get to my hotel, I was accosted by this old man who gives me a card of a “cat house” and then tells me that the hookers are 25% off on Sunday.  How strange, I pondered.  I thought that the prostitutes rested on the seventh day.  Oh well.   After I explained to the gentleman that I was not interested, I began to wonder what made him approach me out of all of the men who had gotten off of the plane.  Did I look that desperate for female companionship?  But, I digress.  Finally, I made it to my shuttle and breathed a sigh of relief.  Unfortunately, my driver appeared to not know the brake from the gas and lurched so violently at one point that all of the passengers slid forward and almost fell off of our seats.  Fortunately, I made it in one piece and finally arrived at the Riviera.  I was not impressed.  It appears as if the 70’s died and this hotel was preserving its memory.  After waiting in line for 80 minutes, I finally made it to the front desk and was met with the oldest hotel reservationist that I have ever encountered.  As I was about to give him my name, his manager came up to him and asked if he had yet taken his break.  Apparently this was a sore subject for this man because he answered, and I quote, “Hell, I haven’t even taken my damn lunch yet.”  The manager looked at the gentleman and just laughed nervously and then looked at me to see what my reaction was.  I found it to be quite funny and apropos to the day that I was having so me being me, I laughed. The manager breathed an audible sigh of relief and the reservationist did not even get reprimanded.  I think that the hotel employees are all in unions and the manager did not want to deal with that headache on top of all of the guests who were attempting to check in to the hotel at that moment.  After checking in I was finally able to go to my room.  However, before I got there, I had to cut through cigarette smoke that was so thick it could choke a horse.  Whose idea was it to have the elevators located near the casino?  And what a casino it is.  I have been here for four days now and I have not seen a single patron smiling or appearing as if they are having fun in this casino.  Quite frankly, it’s depressing.   Yet, I must admit that the patrons were very diverse.  There were young patrons, old patrons, black patrons, Latino patrons, Asian patrons, white patrons, Indian patrons…you get the gist.  And they were all united in one cause…feeding the one armed bandits and not a single one of them was winning.

Finally, it was time to check out the city life of Las Vegas and a friend of mine (who I will call T.C.) and I decided to travel the way most tourists do, by bus.  Big mistake.  Now I am not an elitist, but this bus had us all squished like sardines and poor T.C. had to worry about his wallet possibly being picked by a woman who was no taller than 4 foot 2 and having his eye poked out by a very “busomy” woman who stood too close to him for comfort.  Finally, we fought our way off of the bus (well, T.C. fought and I just followed suit ) and visited the Bellagio.  Another big mistake.  The Bellagio was gorgeous.  I mean stunning.  It had dancing fountains, beautiful artwork in the lobby, wonderful garden sculptures, happy people in the casinos and what does our hotel have? Our hotel has an appearance by Andrew Dice Clay.  Really Las Vegas?  Seriously?  I know that I am here on business and that the room was included with the training, but we are so far from the strip and there is no action going on around this hotel, except for the few stray prostitutes who are not upscale enough to work near the Wynn, MGM Grand, or Caesar’s Palace.  Oh well.  However, staying at the Riviera has ensured that I stay focused on workshops as there is nothing (and I do mean nothing) that can sway me to skip a session (not that I would ever do that).  I still have three more days left in the city of Lost Wages.  Maybe part two of this story will include more fun-filled adventure.  Until next time dear reader, always look for the funny.

Didn't We Almost Have it All?

I can't believe it. The woman of my libidinous teenage years and dreams has died.  Whitney Houston was the only woman that I would hear sing and swear that she was singing about me and to me.  There are so many memories that I have that surround Whitney Houston's music.  Picture it...Langley, South Carolina 1986.  A small shy young man has a major crush on a girl named Wendy.  The Naval ball was fast approaching (I was in NJROTC and so was the beautiful Wendy).  As I was very shy during my high school years (I know that's hard to believe, but truly I was), I wanted to ask Wendy to the dance, but the lack of courage and a driver's license prevented me from doing so.  So I settled for the next best thing. I was determined that I was going to ask her for a dance.  Now the best thing to do would be to wait for a fast song to be played so that there was no fear of the awkward touching that one has to endure during a slow dance, but this was my last year of high school and I was throwing caution to the wind.  I got up my courage and finally asked Wendy to dance with me and to my surprise she said yes.  We danced to Whitney's "Didn't We Almost Have it All?" and at that moment I felt that I did.  I knew that by the time this dance was over, Wendy would be mine and no one would be able to separate us.  Surely, Wendy must have known how I felt about her.  Whitney was telling her.  The song ended and alas so did my chances with Wendy.  My love for Wendy would remain unrequited.  

Let's visit Oxford, Ohio in the winter of 1993.  It was here that I was listening to the radio and heard a song that made me run (not walk) to the record store.  I heard this beautiful song entitled "I Will Always Love You."  When I heard that song, there was no need for the radio announcer to say the name of the artist; anyone with ears knew that it was Whitney Houston.  I just knew that I HAD to have that song.  Unfortunately, I had to wait until it was actually released, but a guy named Paul, took my name and phone number and promised that he would save a copy of the CD for me when it arrived.  After some investigation, I found out that the song was from the movie "The Bodyguard."  I saw this movie SIX TIMES when it came out and with each showing I began to hate Kevin Costner because he was getting paid to do things with Whitney on screen that I would have happily done in real life for free!  Luckily, Paul called shortly after the movie was released and I purchased the soundtrack and listened to it ad nauseum.  I still play the soundtrack to this day, and even my children know all of the songs.

Flash forward to 1994.  By this time, the beautiful Wendy has been replaced with my wife, the gorgeous Cathy and I am working at the University of Georgia (Go Dawgs!).  A new movie has come out entitled "The Preacher's Wife" and I am determined that I am going to see it on the day  it comes out, during the first showing (as only a true fan would)!  I took some time off from work and some co-workers and I saw the show.  After seeing the movie for the first time, I purchased the soundtrack and literally, within two hours, knew the words to every song . . . even the lukewarm song that she sang with Bobby Brown.  Of course, that was not my only viewing.  That weekend I saw the movie four times!  My wife knows that if she wants to start an argument all she has to say is something to the effect of "Whitney can't sing.”  My wife and I have gotten into many heated discussions over Whitney and my love for her that has endured for these past 27 years.  Of course, for someone who thinks that Whitney Houston cannot sing it always amazes me how my Whitney Houston CD's would end up in her car or office. My wife knows how much I love Whitney and that I will always defend Whitney Houston even through her troubles and addictions. In fact, upon hearing the news, my wife called me to see how I was doing . . . as if I actually knew Whitney Houston personally. My wife, my family and my close friends know that I am very saddened by this news, but I take refuge in the fact that I have every single one of her songs and can hear her anytime I'm feeling a little depressed.  Rest in peace Whitney and remember that I will always love you (even though I am married to Cathy).

The Crossing

As fall quickly approaches winter I find that I am reluctant to jump out of my bed quite as early as I once did.  I blame this fact on the coziness and warmth of the many blankets that adorn my bed.  Of course, there is no rest for the weary (or wicked) and inevitably I have to get up and get myself and the children out of the door and off to school.  Lately though, as I approach my daughter Camryn’s middle school, I find myself approaching an evil like no other.  This evil does everything in its power to detain me, and literally goes out of its way to stop me in my tracks (or in this case my car).  What is this evil you ask? Glad you asked.  It is none other than the middle school crossing guard. 

In order to understand where this evilness toward me sprang, I have to take you back about a month and a half ago.  One day, as is usually the case, I found myself running late (big surprise) so I was pretty much pushing the speed limit to get my daughter out of the car and into the building before 7:30 a.m.  As I looked at my clock for the 49th time and wishing that I could slow time down for at least three minutes, I find that it is 7:24 when I attempt to pull into the middle school parking lot and, as usual, I am lecturing my daughter.  Well in between the lecturing and the worry that I was not going to get her into the school on time, I quickly tapped on the brakes at the cross walk, stopped briefly, and was about to keep going (as there were no children present in the crosswalk) when this short, robust, African-American version of Hercule Poirot blows his whistle and jumps in front of my car.  Now, I am a very friendly person (usually) but he scared me so I believe that I said something to the effect of “Oh my, he has startled me.” (Just don’t ask my daughters what I said as I am certain that they did not hear what I said correctly and will tell you that I said something totally different than what I am writing here).  Then I heard him (Pseudo Hercule) screaming that I was not obeying his stop sign.  Now, I am not a member of Mensa so I do not consider myself a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but I do not know of anyone who will obey a stop sign of a crossing guard who is still on the sidewalk.  Needless to say, I gave this man the patented Rod look which conveys the message of “get away from me you kook” and “if you want to be a hood ornament for my Ford Taurus stay right there.” At this point, I finally wheel around to the drop-off point and rush my child out of the car and it is exactly 7:29. Whew! I made it with seconds to spare.  I had forgotten my altercation with Hercule until the next day.

The next day I drive up and as I approach the crosswalk, this same security guard attempts to run into the crosswalk to delay me even though there are no children in the crosswalk.  However, I breezed on through because he could not get there in time.  For one thing, he wears a uniform that is entirely too snug for his frame and he walks as if his shoes are three sizes too small.  So Mr. Crossing Guard,  if you are going to stop Rod you have to move quicker than that in order to get me to stop.  As I pull around to the drop-off point, I look in my rearview mirror and it looks as if he is seething.  I chuckle to myself and think “Way to show Hercule up Rod.  That’ll learn him!”  Little did I know . . . 

On the third day, this guard (who must have eaten his Wheaties this day) jumps into the crosswalk and I am forced to stop.  I kid you not, this man had eight students waiting to cross and instead of allowing them to cross together, he broke the group up as if he were Noah and the children were boarding the ark.  Hercule split them up in teams of two and made them wait until the previous two students made it safely across.  Really Crossing Guard? Seriously?  You are now taking this vendetta against me a little too far!  As I am waiting for this mother . . . umm gentleman to let me pass, the cars behind me start to honk. I throw up my hands to let the driver behind me know that I cannot move until Hercule allows me to and it was then that the crossing guard looked at me and smirked.  Even my daughter caught the smirk and said, “I don’t think he likes you dad.”  “No baby,” I say, “I really do not think that he does.”

This game of “can I catch him before he gets to the crosswalk?” has literally been going on for 31 days as of this writing and it shows no sign of stopping anytime soon.  I am ahead by 19 days though, and for those of you who are asking, yes, I’m keeping score.  I especially love the time when I was in my wife’s car and he did not realize it was me until it was too late, but by then I was turning the corner to the drop-off point.  He actually glared at me that day.  I swear there is never a dull moment in the middle school parking lot.  And please know this dear reader: As long as he continues with this childish game, I have just enough “child” in me to continue it with him.  I am really up for the challenge . . . and besides, I’m ahead point wise.  Until next time dear reader, always look for the funny.