Citizens on Patrol

I was at work yesterday evening when a pretty big storm hit around 7:00. And it didn’t affect our power or anything, but apparently it knocked out several stoplights around town. I know because I went through at least four of them on my way home. It also caused almost no students to come in for registration, so since I’d been at work since 10 a.m., and they didn’t need me there any more, I decided to call it a night around 8:30. Well, as I was passing the Cameron Village library, I happened upon an accident. It wasn’t a bad accident, and no one appeared to be injured. Two people had just tried to go through the stoplight at the same time headed in perpendicular directions. Boom.

The accident had apparently just happened as there were no emergency personnel on site yet. And the cars were still in the intersection, blocking it almost entirely. And the stoplight was out. And traffic was still approaching from all directions. Conundrum.

Then I looked ahead to see that a civilian was standing in the middle of the intersection directing traffic, halting one direction and waving another on. And doing a fine job of it, I must say. Now that’s what I call a take-charge kind of guy. I wonder if he’s single…

I’ve been sleepin’ in a clown pimp’s bed…

Ha ha…Have y’all seen Music and Lyrics with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore? I think the mess is hilarious. There’s one part where they’re singing the song that they’re writing to the doorman, and Hugh Grant mis-reads the lyrics, and instead of saying “I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed,” he says, “I’ve been sleeping with a clown above my bed.” It’s funny. Trust me.

Anyhoe, I got these sheets a while back. And I mean probably a year ago. It’s been a long time, and they’ve been sitting in their package in my closet ever since. They’re kind of like these, only they’re red. Really red. And they’re nice sheets, but the stripe is far more pronounced when they’re on the bed than it was when they were in the package. And for some reason, I think they’re part clownish, part pimpish, so I’ve been having a lot of fun imagining what a clown pimp would be like.

I just don’t know quite how to put it into words.

I expected more from the DJ, but the groomsmen were hot.

Are y’all ok? I tried to post a few times while I was gone, but I just couldn’t do it with any sort of regularity. Did you start going through withdrawal? I’m back. I’m here. Calm down. It’s ok.

Alrighty, so I’ve been in Texas for nearly a week, where my friend Carrie got married. Their story is CRAZY, y’all. Insane. And I’m trying to get her to write a little something about it for the dirtydish, but we’ll see. For now, I’ll just say that it started about seven years ago, and until January of this year, they’d only seen each other in person two or three times. He was engaged to another girl twice (same girl), and Carrie dated other guys as well, but everyone broke up within about a two-week period, and not five months later, Carrie and Garrett were engaged.

So I went to Texas on Tuesday of last week, because I had the whole week off anyway, and I didn’t have anything else to do but sit around and blog, so I figured I’d just go to Texas and see if I could make myself useful. I’m not sure how useful I was, but I had a good time. We tied about a thousand ribbons onto the cutest wedding programs I’ve ever seen. We drove all over the state running errands. And we laughed a LOT. So I’d say it was a successful week.

Here are a few highlights:

  • Carrie’s mom started getting nervous toward the end of the week, and with the nerves came a jumbling of words like I’ve never seen. At one point, she said that up until then, we’d been having a big “jabamba party,” but it was time to get serious. We said, “But we’re still in our jabambas.”
  • There was a lot of talk (and consequently hysterical laughter) about the concept of a “landing strip” (aka “jazz beard”). That’s all I’m going to say about that.
  • I was told at one point that I was going to choreograph a dance for the reception with one of the DJ’s – a man known as “Hammer.” We did not end up doing this, and frankly I was a little disappointed.
  • Dawn (maid of honor) and I found a little shop called My Spicy Treasures. I kept wanting to call it My Secret Treasures, but no…they were spicy. We didn’t go in, but we did contemplate it because they had mangerie, and while Carrie had plenty of lingerie for the honeymoon, I’m not sure Garrett had any at all.
  • Next to My Spicy Treasures was a donut shop called Donut Gourmet Donut. Every time I looked at the sign, I was compelled to sing it to the tune of “Sunday Bloody Sunday.”
  • I think this was the shortest reception on record. It was certainly the shortest one I’d ever been to. Granted, I was among the last of the guests to arrive before the wedding party themselves, but I’d just gotten my food and sat down when the DJ called for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to convene in the entrance hall so as to be announced. They came in and lined up, and then the bride and groom were announced. They came in, we clapped, they had their first dance, they cut the cake, there were about five songs, the best man gave a speech, and then we lined up and blew bubbles as the bride and groom left. That was it. There was no tossing of the bouquet, no pulling off of the garter, no father-daughter/mother-son dances, no electric slide (praise the Lord). The wedding was at 7:00, and we were back at the hotel by 10.

Now, I go back and forth between wanting a big, elaborate New Year’s Eve wedding and just wanting to elope. When I see all the time and work and money that goes into planning a big shindig, I just want to call everybody on a Wednesday and tell them I’m getting married on Saturday at such-and-such a place, and if they want to come, bring a covered dish. But when I go to a reception, I get excited about that part, and it makes me want to have it all – the DJ, the cake, the food, the dress, the dancing. Maybe I can elope and then just have a big party when we get back from the honeymoon. Maybe I can have a really small wedding at any point during the year, and then I can plan a New Year’s Eve formal as a completely separate party. Hmmm…maybe I still need a Matt…er, I mean man…first. Let’s just work on that for now.

quick story

Ok real quick…because I’m in Texas for a wedding, and I have to go get ready for the rehearsal dinner, where I may or may not meet my future husband (fingers crossed).

I was sitting in the bar area earlier, reading and writing in my journal (hatching up some crazy life schemes for myself, which I’ll consider discussing in greater detail later). I wanted to sit in there because it was completely empty, and I wanted some peace and quiet, closet introvert that I am. Well, I’d been there for some time and was pretty much finished. In fact, I was on the phone with Whitney, when a hotel employee came in and started messing around behind the bar. I don’t know what she was doing, but when she was finished, she walked over to my table, put a stapler down in front of me, and left.

Ok just think about that for a minute. There were a minimum of 16 available tables, not to mention the bar itself and all the area behind it, where she could have placed her stapler. Why she thought it belonged on my table, the world will never know. Whitney said I must have looked like I needed one. More than one person said that since I was on the phone, she was hinting that I needed to staple my mouth shut. Someone else said that perhaps she was insinuating that what I was doing belonged in the business center, and not in the bar. I thought maybe she was giving it to me, so I took it back to my room and put it in my suitcase.

wanted: a Matt to love and cherish

I have at least five weddings to attend between now and January, and there are two weddings I’d love to attend, but which are too far out of state to even consider. Three of the grooms are named Matthew, and at least two of those go by Matt. Plus, my roommate is dating a Matt. When I mentioned this to Dre (who’ll be marrying a Matt in about 3.5 weeks), I added that it appears as though Matts are the hot ticket, and perhaps I should try to find me one too. She responded by saying that all of the groomsmen in her wedding are called Matt. All of them. I thought she must be kidding, but she assures me that she is not. However, one is married, one is engaged, one is apparently not my type (according to her), and the last one is only thirteen. Blast!

So I began to brainstorm. Where else can I find a Matt? Surely they must be just romping around everywhere for one Matt to have four groomsmen material Matts as friends. And it’s true. There were at least three that I can think of right off hand in my high school graduating class. One in particular captures my imagination .

I’m thinking that the stars are aligning, friends, and that it’s only a matter of time now until he is mine. Mwuuaahahahahahahaha!!

But seriously, what in the world made this such a popular name in the late 70’s-early 80’s (and apparently even through the mid-90’s)? Wikipedia says, “Since 1975, “Matthew” has remained in the top 100 list of most popular names chosen for new-born babies in the United States. “Matthew” has been in the top five for two decades, and in the top ten for three, it is currently fifth.” But why, Wikipedia? WHY?! What made parents in 1975 suddenly decide that they all wanted kids named Matthew? Was there a famous one (other than the Biblical one, I mean)?

If you were alive and cognizant in 1975, or if you are highly skilled in the art of internet research, and have some insight into this, please share it with us. We’re all about learning here at Onward Hoe!

Keep the lotion on the knuckles: I’m psychic

As you know, last week, I had a dream that involved Jerry O’Connell. Read about it here to catch up. Well, who pops up in a bar on Ugly Betty last night but Mr. O’Connell himself. That’s when I began to realize that I’m psychic. Whitney says it’s a spiritual gift, but so far, it’s only proven itself useful in matters of pop culture, so I’m not so sure about that.

Anyway, Whitney and I were just enjoying a ridiculously overpriced lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall coffee joint called Gaks when I had to pee, which happens sometimes when my bladder’s full. Now, I’m not sure which is my favorite part of going to the bathroom:
a) a few minutes alone
b) the catharsis of expelling urine from my body
c) washing my hands
d) seeing how my hair’s holding up
But I digress. The point is that the bathroom had lotion by the sink. I don’t really like lotion. For some reason, my palms refuse to absorb it, and then I can’t hold on to anything. It’s all slippery and greasy. But my knuckles have been horribly dry lately, like scaly and crackly, so I put a dab of the lotion on them and was still trying to rub it in using only my knuckles as I returned to the table. Whitney looked at me funny, so I explained to her what I just explained to you. Then we started rapping because “keep the lotion on the knuckles” has such a nice rhythm to it. This reminded me of that part in the song Pump up the Volume that says, “put the needle on the record/ put the needle on the record/ put the needle on the record/ when the drum beats go like this,” so I started rapping that.

Whitney, unfamiliar with this ditty, did not appreciate the reference, and a few minutes later, we paid way too much and left. And when I turned on the car, the new 93.9, Kiss FM (formerly Sunny 93.9), was playing Pump up the Volume!! Are you effing kidding me?!

I called Whitney immediately, and she turned to the station just in time to hear the part I’d just been rapping. It was downright magical.

Ode to a Weather Man (and an apology for breaking his heart)

Perfect suit, perfect hair,
You tell me of the weather
With such flair.
Cold fronts in, pressure high,
A storm system may be
Drawing nigh.

No matter what storms may come our way,
You’re always on air
Day by day.
Oh Bobby, my love, forgive me for leaving
You weeping, sobbing, bereft,
I promise one day to quench your heart’s yearn.
I’ll show up at your studio.
Channel 12 New Bern.