Because that’s what beards are meant for: hiding fat.
I’ve decided that I’m allergic to my facial hair. And that, in and of itself, is an odd thing to know about myself, because for years I couldn’t stand facial hair. Not a goatee, not a moustache, not the hint of a 5 o’clock shadow. It seems that, without even realizing it, though, that I’ve changed my mind on the issue. Out of nowhere it seems I sprouted a full beard, and kept it. Until it started itching, and I had no choice but to shave it. When I did, I realized why I’d allegedly grown one in the first place: I was fat. Somehow,...
After that, I ate my chocolate cobbler in silence.
This past Sunday, my youngest nephew, Wynn, who by the way is a few months shy of three and has already rightfully earned the nickname of “Chunk,” turned to me and asked for coffee. “What…did you…say?” I implored of him. “Coffee,” he responded, and then with a nod of the head as if recognizing that he’d forgotten the magic word, added, “pease?” It’s always precious when the little ones remember that fading concept known as “manners.” But, precious aside, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. I went in search of his mother. She wasn’t a bit thrown off by what I felt had...
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...
Phenergan’s Wake
Filed under: Deep South, faith, family, food, health, humor
I’ve had an ill-behaving stomach, as of late. Which has kept me up at nights, uneasy and nauseous. I couldn’t eat much of anything yesterday; I had to practically force myself to eat the leftover cheese sticks, a bowl of soup, and half a chocolate bar (with hazelnuts). So, I did. But, I couldn’t bear to go another night with fitful sleep; so last night, to combat this, I took a Phenergan. It’s a pill prescribed for upset stomachs, etc. We fear I might have IBS. (That’s quite a conversation-starter, there, is it not?) It took a couple of hours, but it did the...
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...
Five foods that made me who I am.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, family, food, health, humor
I’m still stuck on the potato log. Meaning, since confessing to you about my lust and love for the said potato log, yesterday afternoon, I’ve not been able to think about anything else except food. And so, at the risk of offending some of you, I feel I’ve no choice to move myself past this obsessive food-thinking other than to write about it. So, I’m going to spend the next few moments with you, making one confession after another about a few dishes, recipes, snacks, and various other, sundry foods that I not only grew up with, but that, I feel, have defined who...
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...
I guess Boston has everything.
The other evening, Amanda and I were enjoying a small visit with some dear friends. We were sitting around their hip-looking, modern-esque living room (its style is one I envy: its openness and clean lines), and we were sharing a good bottle of Riesling, a bucket of something called Chivda, and a plate of chocolate and peanut butter squares, made by yours truly. Amanda was recounting her recent trip to Boston, in which she was finally able to satisfy a small bit of her boundless love for ethnic foods: Cuban, German, Haitian, Indian, to name several. I guess Boston has everything. And as...
It’s called the triple-count-Rumba-air-fisting-Lindy-Hop.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, health, humor, life
I made a mistake, last night. It involved the gym and twenty-two women. I’d like to tell you about it, so I am. I’ve been a faithful team player of a local gym for the past month. It was part of a personal New Year’s resolution slash Christmas gift (from Amanda). And I’ve been a good lover to it. Three or four visits a week, and fully committed each visit, and giving 100% of my attention to her…you name it, and I’ve paid for it. Admittedly, I was gone most of last week, so I hadn’t been courting her properly. Guilt got the better...
And this is why people buy cocoa butter.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, food, health, humor
I’m going to tell you a secret: I’ve joined a gym. I’m not going to tell what all my reasons for doing this were, but it doesn’t seem to matter because I’m losing weight, and discovering that the nice, firmer shape I had way back during my halcyon tennis days hasn’t actually moved off to Wisconsin. It’s just been hibernating under a large, more-than-adequate supply of cheese, soft drinks, and vending machine goodies. Because let’s face it – that’s all a vending machine has. The one on campus, in Scooba, even has Necco wafers…two kinds. But, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to get...
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