Butt-Dialing, or, I’m sorry, Abigail…
DISCLAIMER: Today’s blog uses the word butt a lot of times. In a funny, good way, though. Having played tennis most of my life, I am more than well aware that I have a good, nice, firm butt. Like, I could point my butt toward a bowl of walnuts and they’d crack immediately. Out of pure-D respect. I mean, facts are facts. Now, I don’t often talk about my butt because a) it isn’t tasteful to do so, and b) I mean, look at it. I don’t really have to talk about it. It’s a little gift from Up Above (two, if you...
When I grow up, I want to be a box of crayons.
I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with a man from Maintenance, on campus, this morning, hardly an hour and a half ago. Let me set the scene, for you: I’m teaching my Theatre Appreciation class, which is held each Monday and Wednesday morning in the small theatre studio, a few rooms down from my office. I’m in the middle of my lecture, standing in front of several large benches, set pieces for our upcoming production. My back is both to the door and the darkened stage. One of my students, who insists on being called Poonie May, suddenly...
“I’m the freaking boss of TV, just so you know.”
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, family, humor
I’ve made no little secret about the fact that growing up, as I did, the television was not the center of the universe. Not in our house. It was carefully guarded: it and all its wonders of delicious and suggestive programming. The only television station that I was allowed to watch, almost entirely on my own and un-chaperoned, was good, old PBS. And, oh, how I watched it: Letter People, Clyde the Frog, Voyage of the Mimi, and one of my all-time faves, Read All About It. Even learning, early on, how to convince U.L. that some shows were appropriate—How could they...
A word about lesbians…
Filed under: Deep South, education, faith, family, humor, life
So, Mississippi’s made the news, again. Have you heard? Itawamba County’s School Board has decided to cancel the local high school’s prom because one student, a lesbian, wanted to wear a tuxedo and bring her girlfriend as her date. Of course, the media is licking its chops, I’m sure, over this newest political deep-fried Panic Button. All the more so because it’s straight from the Heart of Dixie, also known as the Buckle of the Bible Belt. It was only a little more than a decade ago, wasn’t it?, when we were splayed across the nation’s newsrooms (again, the culprit being North...
That, right there, is what you call a “teachable moment.”
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, family, humor, life
In one of my flippant, wine-accompanied, philosophical moments, the other night, I found myself saying, “Well, if it’s possible, it’s necessary.” It just fell out. You know, I was standing around, my mouth was open, and then, Boom. There it was, a whole sentence, a sentiment of ontological bent, floating around the room. Now, I usually say things for two reasons: Either I like the way it sounds (which is a sort of philosophy in and of itself), or I’m not aware of what I’m saying (which is more often the case). Of course, far be it from me to retract a statement....
Pointing, by the way, is not polite.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, food, health, humor, life, theatre
I’ve become a little too close to the janitor, at the college. And it’s not that I mind, not one bit; it’s how we’ve become close that I find amusing and uncomfortable. It involves Miller Light. Sort of. Before I go any further, I want you to be plainly aware that this is not about an academic caste system. And I have a previous story to prove it. Though I rarely tell this story from my Disney Days, prior to having the high-class job of character entertainment and the allure of being an Attractions Host at Disney Studios, I will come clean and tell you that...
So, you know…I really like a potato log.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, family, food, health, humor
Is there anything, even remotely, more wonderful than a gas-station-deep-fried potato log? I don't think so. No. I. Don’t. Think. So. I am, personally, mad-dog in love with the potato log. I look upon its tasty goodness as a drowning man would a life raft. (I wrote that and then had this visual of being a drowning man and seeing a life raft and then, in that life raft I saw, like, hundreds of potato logs and my heart started beating really fast and I almost had to take half a Xanax). So, you know...I really like a potato log. It has taken a place of supreme...
She had bangs and then some.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, humor, life
I was involved in an incident, yesterday. On campus. Completely by accident, mind you. Here’s the back story: So, each afternoon, I teach Comp. I. which is a sheer delight, as all students love this class. In order for me to even consider getting through the first fifteen minutes of it, I either pretend to shoot up, or crumble beneath the slightest suggestive thought of having a Diet Coke. Don’t worry: I recycle. (Except the pretend needles; those I throw away). I terribly needed a Diet Coke, yesterday. The thrill of Scooba had gotten to me. (Even despite the very real thrill of NYC,...
I’m calling this a Flash Blog*
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, writing
I’m going to write a story. I swear, I’m going to. I told myself that this morning. I said, Before this day is over, whatever else you do, write a damn story, Sit down in front of a computer, a notebook, an envelope, or toilet paper, and write something. It doesn’t matter what, just so long as it’s put to some form of paper and has a beginning, middle, and end. Or, something that resembles a beginning, middle, and an end. So, here I am. I’m sitting in front of a computer, several hours away from day’s end, and I’ve turned off the TV, and I’ve...
Yes, Virginia, I am a vegetarian.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, education, faith, family, food, health, humor, life
You know what’s hard? Yoga. You know what’s harder than that? Trying to explain yoga to your precious family of aging Southern Baptists. Because if it’s not explicitly typed in the King James version of the Holy Bible then it’s most likely of the devil, who probably created yoga to trick Christians into performing exercises that would get them into positions they couldn’t get out of, thus holding them in place so he could catch them. But, yoga is a later issue. First, we have to address a more pressing item, though there are several items overall, not the least of which is the fact...
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