As previously stated, I have several quirks when it comes to my eating habits. Additionally, foods cannot touch one another on my plate. I eat one food at a time before moving on to the next item. I love milkshakes and ice cream even though I’m fairly confident that I may be slightly lactose intolerant. Nobody has ever accused me of making sense. I think we can all agree there…moving on.
Enrolling in college guarantees certain things: delaying entrance into the workforce and becoming contributing members of society (working on campus or at the mall doesn’t count), keeping your status as a “dependant” in order to keep health insurance coverage, starting certain traditions with friends, and creating a black hole of debt that you get to look forward to paying back for the rest of your adult life.
Two of those guarantees apply to this particular post. Continue reading
As promised, I reached out to some possible guest writers to help celebrate a small landmark achievement. In the short time I’ve been writing, I’ve had quite a few people stop by and read what I’ve had to share…some have even come back! I surpassed 1,000 virtual visitors a little while back, and thought it might be interesting to reach out and get some fresh new voices on here. One of my contacts that has offered good feedback in the past has been going through a lot of new experiences, and I thought it would be really interesting to see what she could share from that. Boy was I right! She submitted EIGHT PAGES of entries she had written, and I will pass that on in a semi-regular (read: completely random) mini-series that I will call Fresh Meat Fridays.
Let me start this off with a little introduction, shall I? Thank you, I shall. I have always been infatuated with skating. I’ve loved hockey for as long as I can remember. However, growing up in rural southern Indiana, there was never much of a supply of reliable ice dependable enough to skate on. So I took to roller skating. I always loved when my church’s youth group would take a trip to Rainbow Skateland in Tell City, Indiana. Or a friend would have a birthday party at one of the rinks in Owensboro, Kentucky or Evansville, Indiana. Somewhere around my tween years (I can’t believe I just voluntarily used the term “tween”) roller blades were released to the masses. I caught on fairly quick, and it didn’t take long before I had a hockey goal, a couple sticks, and some goalie pads. My best friend and I would take turns shooting at each other in the parking lot of my town’s civic center. Sometime in there, I had heard whispers of a thing called roller derby. I was always intrigued by the concept, but never had the opportunity to watch it, learn it, or be around it. That’s where my guest comes in. I’ll leave it off here, and let her pick it up… Continue reading
Six months ago:
“Dear journal (because diaries are for chicks), My wedding is rapidly approaching and I could not possibly be any more excited! I will spend every day of the rest of my life with the most amazing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And the first week of the rest of my life will be spent in Los Cabos, Mexico. We’ll tour the destination hot-spot that is Cabo San Lucas, dine at Cabo Wabo, release baby sea turtles into the wild, lounge by the beach, take “scuva diving” lessons, and cap it all off with a romantic, private massage right on the beach. (Note: scuva diving is not a typo on my part. That’s how it was advertised.)”
Fast forward to present day:
Since waiting 28 years to get my first massage from a certified therapist, I have been “lucky” enough to be on the receiving end twice in the last six months. (In reality, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out that actually neither one of them was licensed.) Continue reading
Before we get started with this post, let me begin by pointing out the title. I refuse to use the word “remix” when talking about real music. That moniker is reserved for the sole purpose of defining rap song 2.0’s. It is also important to understand the difference between a reprise and a reprisal. Make sense? Still with me? Good. Moving on…
Is it just me, or would it be really cool to see your favorite modern bands do a concept tribute album/concert of some of the all time greats?? Continue reading
A little known fact about me: I am a very particular person. Shocking, I know. If you’ve ever seen my dvd collection, iTunes playlists, or any number of things I like to keep organized then you are already well aware of my relatively minor Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder tendencies. Frankly, I am a firm believer that OCD should be rearranged and read as CDO, so the letters would be in alphabetical order. Seriously, the man should consider this. Unless it’s some diabolical ploy to drive me mad. If that’s the case, then I tip my hat to you, Mr. The Man.
The portion of my life that is most affected by my afflictions pertains to my eating habits. Most people know me as being a very picky eater, even though I will throw some of the nastiest food imaginable straight down my throat into the abyss that is my empty, gurgling, expecting stomach. Continue reading
It has been approximately six years since the last time I strapped on my guitar and played in front of anyone. It’s been a very long, somewhat disheartening six years since I played my last concert with my old band. During that time, I bought a keyboard and attempted to teach myself how to play piano. And I was having some success, mind you! I’ve added a few more guitars to my collection. I had illusions of forming a new band. Those dreams rapidly transformed into nightmares, realizing how much effort it takes to audition, schedule practices, and give in to other people with other ideas. Not to mention, just finding people who are capable of filling your needs.
Needless to say, I’ve been left with having to just play with myself. Umm, yeah. Anyway. Typically I queue up a few songs on iTunes, grab the nearest acoustic guitar and pretend I’m rocking the socks off of thousands of screaming fans. (I prefer plugging in an electric guitar, but it’s just so much more of a hassle to get everything out and set up.) My wife didn’t know me when I was in the band. She never got the thrill of seeing me onstage and having girls faint at the mere sight of me. She missed out on one of the most influential phases of my life. Luckily for her, I never got rid of any of my equipment…I only stored it away in my parent’s house. Also luckily for her, I enjoy making friendly wagers on irrelevant issues. Well, it was after taking one particular bet that I lost, and the end result concluded with me playing a set for her. There were no other stipulations – all I had to do was play some songs for her. Except, if you are blessed enough to know me, then you know I have a flair for the dramatic. It didn’t take much for me to decide that I would not live up to the agreed upon bet, but instead blow it out of the water by putting on the most complex performance of a concert that she has ever known…from the comfort of her own living room! Continue reading
A few weeks ago, the sun peaked through the clouds and blessed us with some rays. On a glorious Saturday afternoon, I geared up and headed out to the garage. I put my motorcycle key in the ignition, hit the starter, and stepped back in awe. Last riding season came and went and my bike had one problem after another. It entered the shop, got examined, diagnosed and repaired. I bought a brand-new battery for the last few weeks of the year. This year started with more of the same. I found myself standing in awe upon realizing that I couldn’t get it to fire to life. It was heartbreaking and somewhat soul-crushing. I got it towed back into the shop last week, and got the call that it was up and running and good to go. The problem? A bad battery. That was the first thing I checked after the results of last year, but clearly I’m no mechanic.
Anywho, today was the magnificent day that I’ve been waiting for. I caught a ride to the shop to pick up my love. Pulling into the parking lot, I immediately noticed it sitting out front, gleaming in the sunshine like a thing of beauty. I paid the higher-than-anticipated bill, grabbed the key, cranked the choke, and fired it up. She turned over with no hesitation…my stomach fluttered with butterflies. This is the day I’ve been waiting for for way too long.
On the way to the shop, I passed several bikers going in the opposite direction. If you’ve never noticed, when bikers pass one another they drop their left hand and signal a wave to fellow riders. I call it a low-five. It’s a sign of acknowledgment and respect. It’s also my single favorite part of being a biker. For real. I love the brothership. You can’t get that riding in a cage (car). I try sometimes, but obviously to no avail. Once I finally hopped on my bike, fired it up, and pulled away, I was counting down the minutes until I passed a fellow biker and collected my first low-five of the year. That moment never came. I rode all the way home and never passed a single other motorcycle.
The worst part came after I pulled into the garage and tucked it in for the night. I hopped into the car to run some errands and what do you know…more bikes left and right. I nearly cried. But then I realized that I have all summer and my bike is rip-roaring, ready to go. I can’t wait!
Thank you, that is all.