Nose hair and the men who have it...

I spent the day with a young guy who’s studying to be an engineer. That’s not really relevant except that it might explain why he doesn’t care about his nose hair. It’s possible that he just doesn’t notice; engineers are a rare breed.

This guy’s nasal hair is AMAZING! It’s like a little spider or something sitting on each side of his nostril. I can’t imagine breathing with something like that growing out of my breathing holes. Surely he can feel it; surely it interferes with his eating! I won’t say it’s disgusting, but it’s certainly distracting. I can’t look at him without staring at his nose. Dark black wiry hair.

Of course, he also has a scraggly, unkempt beard. I don’t know what’s going on — even when I had a beard, it was either really scruffy (but full) or neatly trimmed. His beard doesn’t look good scruffy ‘cause it’s not thick enough. Again, dark black wiry hair.

I’ve only recently had to become concerned about nose hair. Patrick, my former roommate, grew a forest if he didn’t keep it trimmed. Tori and Allison even gave him a trimmer especially for his nose a few Christmases ago. I had no such worries; I still don’t worry much. I only get the occasional straggler that is quickly plucked out.

If you see a little friend, a blondish tendril, peaking out of my nose, please let me know. I don’t want to be the object of conversation.

Technorati Tags:nose hair, grooming, appearance

How the bestsellers end...

It seems bestsellers always end up with someone (or several people) dying. It’s true for Harry Potter, certainly. I’ll not spoil it — my friend Matt’s already been cursing me ‘cause I inadvertently gave up some plot details.

Now, I’ll not tell you how it ends, but you’ll be surprised and pleased, I think. I managed to snag a copy and I’ve read the highlights… you need to either read the book or wait for the move (which is sure to be a block-buster).

I will, however, fill you in on the details of another bestseller.  Yeah, Jesus dies. But he comes back. Don’t mean to spoil it for you, but if you’ve missed that, you’re kinda out of touch anyway.

Before you get to bitching about my comparing the Bible and Harry Potter think for a moment: More people will read Harry Potter cover-to-cover this year than will read the Bible (perhaps at all). I’m not kidding and you know I’m right.

I just finished an excellent biography of Winston Churchill by Roy Jenkins that included more than 1000 pages of small print. If I can read this thing cover-to-cover, why not the Bible? I dunno; I’ve a flawed character — even though I’m the perfect man.

Technorati Tags:Harry Potter, Jesus, Bible, Spoiler

I was a 4 year old pageant king

No, I wasn’t a 4 year old pageant king, but I know kids who were. Though I’m not sure I agree with the practice, I can see little girls in beauty pageants; not so little boys. Can you imagine facing the bullies at pre-school? It can’t be good for one’s self image: If you win, you think you’re amazing, if you lose, you think you suck. Tweenage boys don’t need to reflect on their life on the pageant circuit; they’ve got enough trouble with emerging hormones and blossoming sexuality.

I’ll confess, I’ve been to beauty pageants. Hell, I’ve JUDGED a beauty pageant. I judged little toddling boys, too, I’ll tell you. It was tough and I thought they should all get a trophy, a sharp pointed trophy they could use to attack their mothers when they’re old enough to figure out that their mothers started their sissification far too young. I was hoping one of them would bite his mother but alas, no.

I dunno. My friend Liz was in a pageant a last year I think. It was a small, local thing and she won. She got to ride in a parade and preside over the opening ceremonies of several community events. She also got to sell t-shirts at a “memorabilia stand”.

For those of you interested in the pageant life, I refer you to the excellent movie, Drop Dead Gorgeous. While satirical, it highlights some of the sillier aspects of pageantry.

 

Technorati Tags:beauty pageants , children, abuse

The "Toot-N-Tell-It" effect -- at an end?

Toot N Tell It
Originally uploaded by Mrs Soop.

The Daily Beacon

The Tennessee General Assembly recently passed anti-smoking legislation that will prohibit smoking in public places effective Oct. 1.

The Senate version of the bill was among the strictest in the country, banning smoking in any enclosed public area, until the Tennessee House of Representatives added several exemptions to the ban, excusing age-restricted venues, private clubs and smoking rooms in hotels, among others.

I had lunch at Joe and Deanna's with my dad today. I noticed a sign on the door that said, "State Law: Effective October 27 we will be a non-smoking establishment." It was a hand-lettered sign and I was pleased to see that they spelled all the word correctly.

This got me to thinking about our other eatery in Dyer: the "Toot-N-Tell-It". For as long as I've can remember (even before they moved) people have talked about the "Toot-N-Tell-It effect" or the "Toot-N-Tell-It scours". It's a certain laxative effect that one experiences upon dining at said establishment. It's not the food, I guarantee, for if you get take out or have catered food, you don't experience that special feeling.

I surmise that the effect is generated by vaporized grease, cigarette smoke, and something else undefined (perhaps burnt hair or something). It's special, the odor one carries on one's person when one leaves the Toot. People KNOW you've been there -- and you know you've been there after about an hour because of the special rumbling down below.

I am eagerly waiting to see if the removal of cigarette smoke from the equation leads to a lessening of "the effect". We shall see. Let me know what you think!

Technorati Tags:Toot N Tell It, Dyer, TN, smoking ban, Tennessee

Nice guys finish last... a rant

I was listening earlier today to Green Day's song "Nice Guys Finish Last". It's not really about the "nice guy" as I think about it, but it did get me thinking.

I am the classic "nice guy". Fu-Zu Jen wrote an interesting "tribute" to nice guys for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal that accurately characterizes nice guys. You should read it. It's not terribly long. It's some stuff I've not thought about.

She says, in part:

The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
...
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

I've quoted far too much of her writing, but it's dead-on. Nice guys get screwed -- and not in the good way. Nice guys end up with women who use and abuse them, who leave them standing on the side of the road wondering what the hell ever happened.

The problem with nice guys, according to the heartless bitches at Heartless Bitches International is, "... that Nice Guys don't like themselves." I don't think that's true, at least for all the nice guys I know. I like myself just fine; I'm caring, passionate, confident (most of the time), successful.

I'm sick and tired of being the perfect man, of being the person that women compare their exes too when they're explaining why it doesn't work out ("Yeah, Nathan, he's not like you... You never treat me like that... Bubba and I didn't communicate like you and I do, Nathan.") I'm sick and tired of it, but I don't know what to do about it.

I make the mistake of trying to be friends. Excuse the f'ing sh*t out of me, but doesn't it make sense to see if you can tolerate or stand a person before you try to jump into some relationship with them? Except it rarely works that way: When a woman finds out who you are (this wonderful person), they end up wanting to STAY friends. I understand that I am not attracted to every woman I befriend; I understand that every woman isn't attracted to me, but DAMN, it seems like once you become a FRIEND, the freaking door is slammed shut and the key is melted down. Why does it have to be that way? Why don't nice guys ever get a chance?

Women SAY they want a nice guy, but NICE GUYS are like Amos Hart from the musical Chicago:

Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...

Yeah, Nice Guys are like Amos -- Mr. Cellophane -- you look right through us, walk right past us all the while saying you're looking for someone just like us... But that's not what women want -- at least not until they've grown and learned... and still maybe never.

There's little to be done about, it seems. The world needs nice guys and we're a happy lot, for the most part. Nice guys make the world go 'round. You need us to cry on, to call on, to support you when you're not sure of yourself. We'll just keep being nice and taking the small slights and bearing the little pains silently.

Now, before I get a torrent of flaming hate-mail scented with womens perfume, I know that I have been the "nice guy" to some of you reading this. Yeah, I know you read my blog -- you've told me. You've even told me how sweet it is sometimes, the stuff I write about you and other women. I'm not gonna stop being your nice guy; it's who I am and you know I can't change. I just thought I needed to get this off my chest... I don't mean to offend, but LISTEN, for whatever good it will do.

Technorati Tags:nice guys, relationships, romance, rant

How other people deal with door-to-door idiots...

I read the best of Craigslist occasionally. Funny stuff, sometimes. I came across particularly funny post tonight that I identify with:

best of craigslist : Door to door religious idiots:

"Still out of breath from the fight, sweating, covered in scratches and blood and hair, and carrying a nail trimming tool in one hand, I fling open the door. The picture-perfect charismatic family has decided to let the little girl be the front man. She looks to be about eight years old. She's standing on the front porch, while Mom, Dad, and Little Brother - about five - are standing a few feet back on the walkway. I grit my teeth in my best Dirty Harry impression, look directly at the little girl, and say, 'Yes?' "

I wrote about my own manner of dealing with random people ringing my bell a few months ago. Perhaps I should get some fake blood.

Protestant churches aren't "churches"?

Vatican: Non-Catholics 'wounded' by not recognizing pope - CNN.com

"Despite the fact that this teaching has created no little distress ... it is nevertheless difficult to see how the title of 'Church' could possibly be attributed to them,"
...
The document said the Council's opening to other faiths recognized there were "many elements of sanctification and truth" in other Christian denominations, but stressed only Catholicism had all the elements to be Christ's Church fully.

Wow. I have great respect for the Roman Catholic church and its role in the history of faith and its role in contemporary evangelism... BUT... how short-sighted, how narrow-minded, how amazingly dumb public relations.

Yes, I know that Vatican II had quite a bit to say about "other" churches, but it was vague and handy -- at least we could imagine that there were other "windows" to faith. This is out-and-out condemnation of Protestantism.


Technorati Tags: Vatican, Protestant Churches, religion, news, rediculous

The price of freedom

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.
--John F. Kennedy, Inaugural Address 1961

I went to the patriotic cantata presented by our local community choir Sunday afternoon. It was well done; we're blessed with talent in our little community. I wish I could have participated this year, but I simply didn't have the time or the emotional fortitude to devote to several months of practice.

One of the songs they sang was "The Price of Freedom". It's a touching song about how, throughout history, men have given their lives for freedom. Throughout the song, they showed slides of local servicemen from World War I to the present. I'll be honest: I got choked up looking at some of the faces. Some were killed in action, some have returned to our community, and some are serving NOW. I was stuck by how many of the faces I know personally and even how many are of "my generation".

Off the top of my head, here are the folks I can think of who are or will serve our country "from my generation": Tom M., John O., Katie M., Jonathan F., Brandon B., Nathan G., and I know there are others. Who did I forget? Tell me!

I will not debate the rightness of the conflicts in which our nation is currently engaged. It is enough to say that we are fighting for liberty in parts of the world where liberty may be sorely lacking. It is enough to say that the folks I listed above are fighting in our names for the ideals of freedom and liberty that we must embrace if we call ourselves Americans.

Let's give thanks, as we approach Independence Day, for those who have been willing to risk the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our way of life, to uphold the ideals of freedom and liberty that America represents.

Happy July 4.

Technorati Tags:freedom, liberty, sacrifice, America, Independence Day, July 4

Justin describes the tornado

Justin describes the tornado -- using sound effects, role-play, flashbacks, and interpretative dance.



We have far too much time on our hands.

Technorati Tags:funny, tornado, role-play

Consequences and Repercussions

Choices are interesting things. We choose what to eat, we choose where to go, where to live, who to hang out with, what to wear, what to watch on television. We make hundreds of choices every day, certainly.

Choices have consequences and repercussions.

We often analyze our what we consider *big* choices and weigh the "pros and cons". We often do not analyze "every day" choices -- we just decide and move on.

What I forget is that ALL choices have consequences and repercussions. I may choose what I believe is the right thing for me and, if I choose correctly, the outcome will be largely positive. Regardless, all choices have consequences and repercussions -- sometimes these consequences and repercussions may be unpleasant or disagreeable to me.

You, too, have made choices which were likely the right choices for you, but those choices have consequences and repercussions which may have been disagreeable. Think for a moment on choices you've made, perhaps without considering the total outcome. Are you satisfied with the results? Do the pros outweigh the cons?

Some choices can be made over. Some cannot. We must be prepared to live with the consequences of our choices.

Choices involving people are the hardest to make again. Take, for example, "first impressions": we're told you only get one chance to make a good first impression. People make choices, judgments about us based on their impressions of us. It's hard, for me, to overcome my first impression of someone.

People are unpredictable. When our choices involve people, we cannot often accurately gauge their response our their subsequent behavior. I very infrequently make "final" choices about people. My friends say I sit on the fence about too many things, but I think, as concerns people, you can't sit on the fence enough. Taking extreme, precipitate action which binds you to someone or alienates you from someone is a serious choice and should be considered carefully. I don't, generally, make such choices (though sometimes they're made for me). I'd rather wait, keep my cards close to my vest, and see how things develop. I think I'm happier that way and I hopefully (certainly?) make few enemies.

With few exceptions choices, while not entirely reversible, can be "fixed". I can choose to never eat a hotdog with jalapeños again (and save my poor digestive system), I can choose to always buckle my seat belt after a car accident, I can choose to divorce my wife or husband (not pleasant, but it is a "fix"), I can choose to forgive someone for something perceived as "unforgivable", I can choose to always drink gin and never drink tequila, I can choose to always fly from Nashville and never from Memphis, I can give people second chances and I can accept second chances from others.

Technorati Tags:choices, consequences, repercussions, decisions

Religious WHAT?

desire
Originally uploaded by lapeet1.

I had a conversation with a customer today that left me speechless for a few moments. You're probably surprised. You'll understand in a moment.

We were talking, catching up as it were, doing the thing where I act interested in his family and so forth. I asked him about his daughter (she's HAWT, by the way) who's currently enrolled at a super-selective private university.

"Yeah, she's doing great. She started out studying public policy, but now she's really into religious sex."

Huh? I didn't say anything for several moments. Usually there is a lively banter between the customer and me. The silence stretched on... and on.

I gathered my wits, "So, John, how 'bout that expansion module you guys had talked about? Still hiring some more folks this fall? You'll need the capacity."

Yeah. He shocked me. Until I realized that he had said "SECTS" not "SEX".

I called him back after about an hour to clarify. We had a good laugh and then he explained. She's studying modern religious ideologies, I think, or something. Much less interesting than... well, you know.

Technorati Tags:religious sex, religious sects, sects, homonyms

"Adult" book stores

nashvilleX3
Originally uploaded by ihaveabuginmyeye.

I confess, I've been in an adult book store. I was disappointed. They not one copy of War and Peace, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, Pride and Prejudice, Silas Marner, or even Gone with the Wind. They did have some interesting titles though.

Seriously. "Adult Book Store" is a bad name for what these places are, I think. "Adult Books" conjures in my mind an image of a slightly cluttered, dusty bookshop full of heavy tomes with weighty titles. I don't know what a better euphemism would be, though. It still should be something innocuous sounding -- maybe something like "Porn Store" or "Filthy Book Palace". Would those be clear enough?

Tori and Jeff and I were at the lake one weekend and had passed the book place a few times on our way back and forth. Tori suggested that we might stop -- that it might be interesting. Now, I hate to pass judgement on an entire industry based on one experience, but this place was CREEPY. Perhaps "stores" in Memphis would be more up-scale and less trashy, but this place, outside of Paris, was plain skank. The decor wasn't all that horrible -- it had a crummy-video-store kind of feel which doesn't bother me since I'm from a small town with no chain video stores (all our video stores are crummy), but the clientèle just FREAKED me... Granted, we didn't look like the a million bucks (we'd been on the lake part of the day and had showered, but not "fixed ourselves up" to go out), but some of the folks hanging out in this establishment looked as if they'd climbed from under a rock somewhere.

Anyway, we wandered in, were warmly greeted by the proprietress, and proceeded to look around. I was particularly fascinated by the "Toy" section. Tori kept telling me not to touch anything -- but I couldn't help myself. There, sitting on a shelf available to the whole world (or at least the part of the world willing to stop at such a distinctive establishment), was the molded silicon replica of some woman's (a famous "star" of the adult film industry, no doubt) nether regions. I picked a safe place to poke my finger -- a thigh, I think -- and was amazed at the texture. Didn't feel like any woman I'd ever poked. I guess, if you're buying silicon woman parts, authenticity isn't that big of a thing -- after all, if you NEED silicon woman parts, you likely don't have a real woman with which to compare it.

We didn't buy anything. If they'd had a T-Shirt, I might have bought one... I was gonna ask about souvenir t-shirts of key-chains, but Tori wouldn't let me.

We smiled politely, thanked the lady for letting us look around, and leaped into the car leaving a cloud of dust and thrown gravel hoping that no one from home (especially the preacher) recognized our car.

Technorati Tags:Adult Book Store, Porn, Stories, Travel, Interesting

Schoolhouse Rockin' Aunt Rete

Aunt Rete is a regular guest at our house for Sunday lunch. We have a fairly traditional lunch almost every Sunday -- Dad cooks, we sit around the table for an hour or so, and then progress into the den for more conversation.

Somehow, today, we got off on the subject of old cartoon. We talked about the Gummi Bears, Garfield, Fraggle Rock, and others. Samuel, trying to add something to the conversation, asked about Schoolhouse Rock -- he'd learned a few songs for something he did at school (a skit or some-such). He started demonstrating while sitting next to Aunt Rete. She didn't seem amused.



Don't tell Sam this is up here -- he'd be embarrassed.

Technorati Tags:Fraggle Rock, Schoolhouse Rock, Video, Sunday Dinner

Saying "I Love You"

"Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other."
-Leo F. Buscaglia

I love. I love earnestly, deeply, tenderly, and without any expectations of reward. I love easily. The way that I love has caused me some heartache and heartbreak over the years, but on the whole, I think I'm happier.

Those of you who know me, my friends, know that I often (more often than not) end a conversation saying, "I love you." For some of you this has been off-putting at times. I have a certain "macho" friend who literally freaked the first time I told him that I loved him. I backed off a bit and didn't try it again for a while. Several months later he said to me, "Nathan, do you love me?" "Of course," I told him. "I love you too," he said. He almost always tells me that he loves me now -- he'll beat me to the punch on the phone.

I love. And I want you to know that I love you. To live in this world, today, in a time that is uncertain in so many ways (and I'm not even talking about eschatologically uncertain times), it is important to let people know that we love them. Yes, I love all people generally -- that's why it's so easy for me to rationalize bad behavior in others, to let personal slights and insults go, to accept people as they are, but I also love people specifically. Like family.

I have friends that I call "brother" or "sister". If I could pick my family, these people would be it. You know the kind of relationship I'm talking about. These are the people I wouldn't want or choose to live without; these are the people who keep me sane and keep me grounded. It's a short list, but I think I have more of these kinds of relationships than most. I talk to some people about their closest friends and I have discovered that many people don't have the kind of relationships I describe with ANYONE. I pity them. Who can read their minds and their souls? Who can hear their voice and immediately detect joy or heartache even when they're trying to hide it?

We need close friendships. We need love in our lives -- and not the EROS, bum-chica-wow-wow kind. Sure, there's a place for that -- a big place -- but that kind of love does not sustain us, that kind of love doesn't last (it comes in waves, even in committed relationships). For many people, married or committed people, their closest friend is their spouse or partner. That's not inappropriate -- in fact, it makes live a joy. To love, on multiple levels, the person you're spending your life with is a gift.

If a man should importune me to give a reason why I loved him, I find it could no otherwise be expressed, than by making answer: because it was he, because it was I.
- Michel de Montaigne

I try to love, we should try to love, without any expectations. That's a hard thing to grasp for some people. So many relationships (what some people might call "friendships" but I'll prefer to call "acquaintance") are based on mutual benefit. You give, I give, we both get something. That's fine, but it puts an invisible burden on a relationship. We should love purely, without expectation of reward or benefit. This is hard, yes, but in the end, if you're disappointed in a friend, you can say to yourself, "I love this person; I shouldn't expect anything of them but love in return."

More generally, we should love EVERYONE without expectation. The man on the street, the asshole who cuts you off in traffic, the dipsh*t that won't shut up in the elevator (and he's there every day)... When we decide to love people, all people, we let anger slough off of our souls like a second skin and I promise that we're happier. Some of you have heard me say, "I'm not angry, I'm disappointed." That sounds like something a parent would say, but it's the truth in my case (most of the time). I am more often disappointed than I am angry -- and disappointment is not a sin in any religion that I can find. Anger is an emotion; disappointment is a learning experience.

I love tenderly. I'm a soft-hearted kind of guy. When those I love hurt, I hurt. When they are disappointed in life, I find myself disappointed. Sympathy? Empathy? I dunno, but, that's what love SHOULD be. When we love, our hearts resonate with the songs in the hearts of others. I'm supposedly easy to read. A friend told me recently (on several occasions) that she can "read my face like a book". I don't know about that -- she didn't do so well if you ask me -- but it's true that those who know me well (perhaps those who love me?) *can* hear in my voice, see in my face, observe in my behavior my TRUE mood (and not the one I'm projecting to the general public). Tender love is gentle and caring, not pushy and abrasive. Tender love caresses our hurts and cheers our joys.

I love easily and readily. More than two years ago, I was reintroduced to a young woman who I'd met several months before. She went with me and some friends to eat and then to hang out. When we dropped her off at her apartment, I got out to walk her to the walk (I didn't go to the door). She thanked me for the invitation and I hugged her -- I stepped back, looked into her eyes, kissed her forehead and said, "I love you." She looked at me strangely, with a slight grin on her face, and blushed. I meant it -- right then. I'd spent several hours with her, only several hours, and I realized in that time that *this* was one of the most important people I'd ever meet in my life. This was not a false revelation. She has become a true friend, one of the people I'm closest to in the world.

We should be ready to love. We should be open to love. If I had sent out applications for "best friends", I doubt I would have picked the young woman above. If I had not been ready to love, easily and readily, I might not have recognized her value and worth. As it was, I was ready, our hearts were open, and most amazingly, they resonate now, almost two years later on the same frequency, they sing different parts of the same song.

So... I say, "I love you." I mean it. I say it often, but it doesn't mean less -- it means more. I am not afraid to love; I am not afraid to admit I love. I fear a future without love; I fear a future without my friends.

Receive love with an open heart. Tell people you love them. Love without expectation, deeply, tenderly, earnestly, purely, simply.

Technorati Tags:love, friendship, relationships, sappy

Come on, ring that bell

The only people who ever ring my doorbell are the police, evangelists, and people selling stuff (I guess evangelists are sort of selling stuff). I don't like it. I don't like company. I don't like people "dropping by" or any of that mess. I'm single and male. My house is a wreck. It's not a bio-hazard; I trash food scraps, etc, but there's mail everywhere, books piled up waist high, no room on my couch, etc.

When the bell rings early Saturday morning, I assume it's the police delivering a "package". I get a packet from City Hall every two weeks with reports, agendas, and so forth. I don't normally bother dressing for the police: I just scamper down the hall and throw open the door. The officer gets the pleasure of seeing me in all my unclothed glory. If I'm wearing skimpy underclothes and I'm feeling charitable, I might throw on a pair of "sleeping shorts".

I've found that answering the door nearly naked discourages evangelists from returning. I'm guessing they have a list somewhere and I'm on it: Single/Male, answers door naked, crazed expression

My hair is generally nuts in the morning. To the left is an illustrative picture of how I look when I'm first woken up. It was taken in 2004, but except for no beard and less hair on my head, it's pretty much dead-on. I look like a nearly naked drug-crazed maniac. To enhance the effect, I generally smile broadly when I see new people and giggle to myself softly the whole time they're plying their Jesus.

The no-clothes-maniac routine works so well, I've started stripping when people ring my bell even in the middle of the day, afternoon, or evening. I quickly wet my hands, muss up my hair, and shuffle to the door. I know I've accomplished my goal when whomever is calling jumps back in horror when I fling open the door and start grinning like a nut. If I could only smell worse...

Several months ago, I went bowling on a Friday night. Had a great time. That Saturday morning I woke up early (heaven knows why), and was milling around the house, dressed in the clothes I'd worn the night before. I SMELLED like I'd spent the night in a strip-joint. Not hard to imagine, really: The bowling alley was filled with smoke and I had perspired in my clothes that night. I heard some folks shuffling around outside and opened the door just as an elderly gentleman with a light-bulb was about to ring the bell.

Evangelists. They must not have gotten the memo. He looked shocked at my appearance (even though I was fully clothed, I probably had food stains and I know my hair was a wreck). He and hist little band of proselytizers stepped back when the smell hit them. "Uh, good morning, sir, I'm sorry to have woken you, but I'd like to invite you to our special services this week." Giggling, I replied, "No, you didn't wake me hahahahahah I've been up for HOURS!" He handed me the light-bulb, simultaneously backing away, "Jesus is the light of the world. We'll pray for you." They left rather quickly. I put the bulb in a burned out fixture in my den.

Technorati Tags:evangelists, waking up, scary, morning

Saying "I'm Sorry"

Never ruin an apology with an excuse. ~Kimberly Johnson

The other week I had a long conversation with a friend of mine who had made a mistake. I don't recall the mistake, but she was heartbroken. She had hurt a friend and didn't know how to fix it. She explained to me the circumstances and kept providing reasons for her actions. I remember stopping her and saying, "Dear, there should be no 'BUT' after 'I'm Sorry'." I could tell she was already rehearsing her apology with me.

Before someone accuses me of twisting facts or thinly veiling my thoughts: I honestly don't remember who she was -- I remember it being a girl. I also don't remember what the mistake was.

I'm really good at apologizing. I've had to be; I make so many mistakes that I get plenty of practice. Often, when someone walks up to me, I begin apologizing immediately. It's safer that way. I'm almost always sure I've done something wrong.

I've learned that the shortest apology is the best: "I'm sorry." Especially with women. Trying to explain one's actions is a sure fire way to make a woman madder.

It's okay to define what you're apologizing for, but be careful. If you say, "I'm sorry for backing over your flowers with my bulldozer," and the person isn't mad about that, but rather, is mad because their pet hamster was in the flowers at the time, you may come off as insensitive. If someone is angry and you're hoping an apology will make it better, be sure why they're angry before you start.

I'll state the obvious: Don't apologize unless you're sincere. Nothing is worse than an insincere apology. If you regret your actions, admit it. If you're not sincere, don't bother opening your mouth, please. Notice, I didn't write, "If you regret the consequences of your actions," above. Apologizing to get what YOU want or to make YOU feel better is a lame-ass reason to apologize. You should apologize simply because you were wrong or because you hurt someone.

Back to the "but" of this story: Seriously, we often take the meat out of an apology by saying "but" after "I'm sorry". Trying to place the blame elsewhere invalidates an apology. To apologize means to admit that YOU have made a mistake -- it's no one's fault but your own. Allow the person you're apologizing to provide an excuse; often times they will when they figure out you're not trying to weasel out of it with a "but" statement. If they don't provide an excuse, don't fret. You've done your part -- you've admitted your mistake and taken responsibility for it. The proper response to an offered apology is to accept it. The proper response to an apology is to forgive.

Technorati Tags:I'm sorry, apology, relationships

None for me, thank you, I'm sucking toads

Damien Rice - 2879
Originally uploaded by mjecker.

I had a chance to see Damien Rice in concert tonight. I could have seen him from seats in the first few rows, center, at the Orpheum Theater in Memphis.

I knew he was coming to Memphis several months ago and I mentioned to a friend of mine, a concert promoter, that I'd like some good seats. My hope was that she could finagle me some orchestra seats, fairly close, at a good price. She called last week and left me a voicemail: "Hey, I've got you some tickets. Dead center somewhere in the first 10 rows. Call me back." I didn't call her. I knew already that I would be in Conway this week.

I suppose I could have driven from Conway to Memphis tonight, but it would have been irresponsible and a fairly arduous journey. I also knew that I probably couldn't find anyone willing to put up with the hassle of meeting me there under such strange circumstances. Adrienne might have met me, but...

So, Damien is singing in Memphis and I'm in stuck in the home of the Toad Suck Daze Festival. "No, no tickets for me, please, I'm sucking toads in Arkansas." I thought about calling Andrea (my friend with tickets back) with that reply. I thought again and it occurred to me I might need tickets to something else and I shouldn't make a joke of refusing the tickets. Thank you for the offer, Andrea, perhaps next time.

You know when you've found it,
There's something I've learned
'Cause you feel it when they take it away
- "Amie" by Damien Rice

Technorati Tags:Damien Rice, Memphis, Concert, Music

Just a regular roast beef sandwich, please

I had lunch at Arby's in Conway, Arkansas yesterday. I like beef; I like Arby's. I'm a fan of the roast beef and cheddar sandwich (with bacon, sometimes). I'd had breakfast yesterday, which is unusual, so I wasn't terribly hungry. My plan was simple: Order regular roast beef sandwich, drink bottle of water in van, return to work.

I visited the Arby's -- a brand new facility in a strip mall. My cashier was Ed, a developmentally disabled adult.

Ed: Hello, welcome to Arby's, my name is Edward. People call me Ed. They say Ed is cooler than Edward. Can I take your order?
Me: Yes, thank you Ed, I'd like a regular roast beef sandwich to go, please.
Ed: Yes sir, that'll be a regular roast-beef sandwich. Are you working today? Would you like some fries with that?
Me: Yeah, I'm working today -- right down the road.
Ed: Great! So, that's a regular roast beef sandwich with fries. You wanted curly fries, right? How 'bout a drink? So, are you from out of town?
Me: Yes, I'm from out of town. I've got some water in the van.
Ed: So, that's a large roast-beef combo with curly fries. That's a nice phone -- does it take pictures? Would you like a cherry turnover with your meal?
Me: No, uh, yeah, it's a picture phone. I take lots of pictures.
Ed: Wonderful, that's really neat. So that's a large roast beef combo with curly fries and a cherry turnover. Your total is $7.71.

To summarize: I wanted a regular roast beef sandwich -- that's all. I ended up with a large roast beef sandwich, curly fries, a drink, and a cherry pie/turnover thing.

Someone is teaching Ed the delicate art of up-selling -- and he's learning well.

One might speculate that Ed was exploiting my reluctance to challenge him due to his developmental disability to sell me more food. If that is the case, Ed is pretty sharp. I won't go there.

Technorati Tags:Arby's, developmental disability, Conway, AR, roast beef

Amazing, Amazing, Amazing...

"Amazing. Amazing. Amazing." That's all I could say tonight as I dined at Mike's Place in Conway, Arkansas. I sent out a broadcast text message to my friends saying just that, "Amazing, it's worth the drive just to eat here." It's four and a half hours from home. I could easily justify that.

The decor is pretty neat; nothing terribly eclectic. Very warm, lots of wood, brick, and some traditional paintings on the walls. There were some romantic niches, and some open banqueting areas. On the whole, the place could best be described as "cavernous". The place is FREAKIN HUGE. I couldn't believe it when I walked inside. They were packed; on a Tuesday night; huge restaurant; barely any tables. They stuck me in a back corner and I was glad to have a chair.

The service was excellent. My waiter, Josh, is 30 years old and is from Conway. He's been working at the restaurant since it opened. The same company that owns Mike's Place is opening another restaurant, more directly Italian themed, and Josh will be the General Manager there, he said. He was attentive, polite, knowledgeable, and stayed out of the way unless I needed something. There were a few times when my water glass became empty and stayed that way longer than I would have liked (I'm a heavy drinker when I eat, you know), but he was serving several tables and it wasn't a big deal. I can't stress enough how confident and excellent the service was.

I had, as an appetizer, their "Shrimp and Cheese Fritters". They surely must have been made in-house. I can't imagine a prepared food company supplying something like that. Amerigo (the chain Italian place) has something similar, but not the same. These were a bit spicy, full of good, smooth cheese, and the shrimp added that "little something extra".

For my main course, Josh recommended that I try a platter -- which allowed me to pick two of the regular entrées (smaller portions) and two of their side dishes which they call "lagniappe". Lagniappe means "an unexpected gift" or a "little more" in Louisiana French. I chose the Crawfish and Shrimp Étouffée and the Blackened Chicken Alfradeaux with Red Peppers. As my sides I had Red Beans and Rice and some Sweet Potato Fries. The Étouffée was excellent -- plenty of flavor and taste, but not too spicy (some people like it spicy, I don't). The pasta was very good, chicken well flavored, good pasta. The beans and rice were also excellent. The Sweet Potato Fries were a bit disappointing, but I didn't know what to expect. It may have been that I was eating highly flavored food and the sweet fries just couldn't compete with the onslaught of other tastes in my mouth. Oh, and the "small portions" were HUGE.

It was obvious that almost none of the food came from a prepared food vendor (or if it did, it was very high quality). It appeared that the dishes had been prepared on site and to exacting standards. The quality of the food, again, was EXCEPTIONAL.

My bill, tax and all, was $26.44.

The only mistake I made today was eating lunch, I couldn't even think about dessert.

I've eaten at some great places; five-star restaurants and holes-in-the-wall. This is far and away the most amazing random restaurant into which I've ever stumbled. It is WORTH THE DRIVE to Conway, Arkansas to eat at Mike's Place. If you can find a play or a concert, go for it, but don't wait -- make some plans now to dine with these guys.

Technorati Tags:Mike's Place, Conway, AR, Arkansas, Food, Dining

"Thinning hair"

I went to a dinner party a few months ago and noticed in some of the pictures (most of the pictures were embarrassing) that my bald spot is spreading. Yes. I have a receding hairline -- and I think that's sexy an a bit distinguished. The bald spot bothers me. I'm not terribly self-concious about ANYTHING -- you know that, but this isn't the first picture that the spot has jumped out at me.

Probably three years ago -- at the lake -- Tori first pointed out my thinning spot; Patrick and I were comparing hairlines (he's known as "the human forehead" in some circles) and Tori said, "Oooo, look, Nathan's got a bald spot." I thought nothing of it -- it was early in the morning and none of us had showered or primped (we never did on lake mornings). I figured it was just the way my hair was laying that morning. Somewhere in the last few years it's grown.

I asked the lady who cuts my hair about it a few weeks ago -- had she noticed it. "Yes, Nathan, you've always had fine thick hair, but there is a 'weak' spot developing." I asked my Mom about it -- why hadn't she told me, "I thought you knew," she said, "and besides, both your grandfathers were bald by their early thirties." EGAD! Early thirties! Bald Spot! Why didn't someone tell me!!!!!!

I give up
Originally uploaded by churl.

So, I was talking with a friend of mine the other day -- as she was spiking my hair, I think -- and I asked HER about the bald spot. "Yes, Nathan, it's there." She giggled -- not about the bald spot, hopefully, but because she was about to make me look like a punk-wanna-be or something. "What am I to do?" I asked. "You could shave your head -- or get some Rogaine."

Alright. That's an answer I can live with. I like to fix things. If I have a flat tire, I patch it with fix-a-flat or get a new tire. If I have an itch, I put some cream on it. If I have a bald spot, I can smear some foam on it. I mentioned it to my parents, "I'd like some Rogaine (and a tandem bicycle) for my birthday."

Tonight, before I left the house, my mother gave me some Rogaine foam in a sack, "Here son, I got this for you." My cousin Jimmy shared an uplifting joke before I walked out the door:

Son, people say a men whose hair is thinning up front are great THINKERS. You know men whose hair is thinning in back are great LOVERS. If it's thinning in front and in back it means you THINK you're a great LOVER.

He cackled. I smirked. I'm thinning in the back; draw your own conclusions.

I'm going to make my first application to my "warm dry scalp" tonight before bed. I'll let you know.

Technorati Tags:bald spot, Rogaine, thinning hair