Way to go Jerry!!!

I have been on a blogging hiatus as my job and attempt at shedding a few pounds have consumed a lot of my spare time. After an exciting weekend in Dallas, I find myself somewhat amused and in need of sharing an observation.

George Strait opened the the new Dallas Cowboys Football Stadium last night. It was an amazing concert. To see the king of country music in one of the most amazing facilities in the world was quite a treat.

It was a little bittersweet for me as I love George and was excited to see him, but I cannot stand the Cowboys. I have never been able to jump on that bandwagon. Something about their arrogance makes me root against them, and today, something about their arrogance made me find time to blog.

This facility is amazing; at a cost of more than one billion dollars it boasts eighty thousand plus seats, six levels, 300 corporate suites, a retractable roof and the most amazing plasma jumbotron in the world. It weighs hundreds of tons, as it hangs over midfield spanning a majority of the actual playing field. It is the most impressive thing of it's kind that I have ever seen. With four sides, it is visible from every seat in the house, certain to enhance the experience of seeing a Cowgirl game.

I will buy tickets to a game this year. Not to see the girls in action, but to see the amazing jumbotron that, in it's permanent fixed position, sits only ninety feet above the playing field. At this height, it is clearly in the field of play of most NFL punts, which often reach heights of one hundred feet and above.

Oops.

Money can buy championships and a real fancy stadium, but it can't buy common sense.

Ten Dollars Buster! Pay Up!

Saturday night we had the pleasure of attending the Jimmy Buffett concert in Dallas. For those of you who haven't seen Jimmy, I would highly recommend it. Not only was it a concert, but it was a party. From the moment we arrived in the parking lot to the moment we passed out, it was non stop fun. Not only was it a celebration of life, love and music, it was also a chance for a few lucky folks to make some coin!

Anytime you get a large group of people together, you are certain to have the one or two individuals who find creative ways to make money. I saw the the elderly man offering to take a Polaroid of me and a monkey for twenty dollars, and a lady so graciously willing to write my name on a grain of rice for fifteen dollars.

These people prey on individuals like myself, financially irresponsible drunks.

I thought I had them beat. I'll admit, I was tempted by the cute monkey, it would have been a nice memento, but I passed it up. I've had my name written on rice before, it's really not that cool, certainly not for fifteen dollars.

As I made my journey from the parking lot to the stadium, I chuckled to myself at the suckers who fell for it. What could they possibly do with a grain of rice? It could have been me, but for once, I had the self control to say no.

My chuckling was short lived, as I was one of many who paid ten dollars to gain admittance into the "private" port-a-potty tent.

Now that I am sober, I am not angry that I spent ten dollars to take a leak, but disappointed that I didn't think of it!

What a great idea! He even had a guy singing Buffett tunes at the gate!

Sad Day

Today was a sad day.

I bought a shirt in the Big & Tall section.

I'm 5'10.

Lil' Girl Say What????

If you ever see my wife in a restaurant, know this, she is listening to you. You may think that being five tables away makes you out of earshot, wrong. Lindsay is an eavesdropper. I am the opposite, I could care less.

For those of you courteous individuals, like myself, you will understand what I am about to say.

While grocery shopping, minding my own business, I heard a little girl say something that caused my head to spin around. I had to ask myself if I heard what I thought I heard. I wasn't trying to hear it, I was simply looking for a nice ear of corn, but I heard it. Part of me wanted to laugh, the other part thought it was my civic duty to notify the authorities.

"Dad, can we play doctor tonight?" she inquired.

Skip rope, red rover, dodge ball, kick ball, soccer ball, legos, house, kick the can.

Why did it have to be doctor?

That's Not How I Roll

We had the pleasure of going bowling with some friends this past weekend. I love bowling. I am not bragging, but I did knock out a 175 in my second game. Not bad for a guy who rarely bowls. I was excited for my high score, but very disappointed with this particular alley.

I grew up in bowling alleys, and I know a good alley when I see one. Rumor has it I was conceived after hours behind the snack bar at the Pla Bowl Lanes in Herington, Kansas. Not sure if it's true or not, but it could explain my love for the lanes.

Mom was in the Wednesday night under 40 league. She had her own ball, shoes and that thing that goes on your wrist; she was for real. I loved joining her for bowling night--she got to have fun with her friends and I got to have fun with mine. I remember the video games, snack machines, even sneaking a kiss back behind the bowling lockers. The sounds of the pins crashing, and the smell of smoke is something I will never forget. If I wasn't with mom at the lanes, I made it a point to call and have her paged. It was exciting to hear the "Terry Jensen, your son is on the phone" over the sounds of the crashing pins. I never really needed anything, just checkin' in. She loved it.

I was so excited to go bowling this past weekend. Not only to share my bowling abilities with our new friends, but just to be in a bowling alley. The fact that I bowled a 175 is the only good thing that came out of our bowling adventure.

Not only does our local alley not allow smoking (normally I'd appreciate that, but it's a bowling alley, bowlers need to smoke) but there isn't even a pool table. There is no loud speaker announcing high scores, not even pages alerting parents that their kids are on the phone. There aren't lockers and the snack bar doesn't serve nachos. These are all obvious violations of the ICBAR (International Code of Bowling Alley Requirements). Although serious violations, this particular alley, which will remain nameless, committed the number one violation according to the ICBAR standards: No ball weighing more than 12 pounds shall be pink in color. Specifically, the fourteen pound ball, that is probably used mostly by men, including myself, shall not be pink.

I don't roll pink balls. Sorry.

We won't be back.

There's A First Time For Everything

You know it's a good day when you can experience a "first".

I remember my first bike. It seems like yesterday I was riding around the church parking lot under the close supervision of the neighborhood children. Most importantly, I remember how hard they laughed when I fell.

I remember my first girlfriend. She was a Hawaiian Tropic model and I dated her and her twin sister for a short while. That's actually a lie. Her name was Amanda, although a pretty first grader, she was not Hawaiian Tropic model, and her sister was a couple of years older, and had no chance of ever becoming a model.

I remember the first time I stole something. I was probably twelve and it was a box of baseball cards. The sad thing was, Ruby, the convenience store clerk never caught on. We would walk out with a box, only to return and inform her that they were out of cards. She gladly replenished the supply and we gladly stole it. This continued several times before we finally felt sorry for her and quit the thievery.

I remember my first trip to jail. When a cop says to you,"say one more word and you're going to jail" and you respond, "word", count on a five hundred dollar bond.

I remember my first car. It was a 1984 rust colored Toyota Corolla. If it wasn't bad enough picking up chicks in an old Corolla, I had a dad who thought it needed a beaded seat cushion and steering wheel cover. That was a great Christmas.

Life is full of firsts, as you grow older they don't happen as often, so when they do, it's special.

Today I helped a co-worker, Kathy, change her flat tire. I was too manly to admit it at the time, but today I changed my first flat tire.

It wasn't as fun as going to jail, picking up chicks in the turd, or stealing baseball cards from Ruby, but it felt good.

Kathy's spare tire fell off on the way home this evening.

Just kidding.

Somebody Is Going To Pay

I used to have quite a temper. The slightest thing would send my furor into a tailspin. Like Michael Douglas in the classic, Falling Down, I was one cross look from an all out brawl. It didn't take much to set off my fuse.

My sister talking on the phone while I was waiting to call my girlfriends, something was going to break, most of the time it was the phone. Someone playing their rap music too loud was almost certainly going to end with a call to 911. Putting cheese on my HAMBURGER, somebody better be comping my entire meal.

I have since mellowed out. Not a lot sends me over the edge. However, if you look at the picture above, you will notice a box of thin mints with one sleeve of cookies and a sausage; it is real, and happened to my friend Travis. Excited to enjoy his two sleeves of thin mints, Travis opened his box to find only one sleeve, and some sausage!

I can't even fathom the scene if it would have been me. I take my thin mints serious. As I think about it, all I can see is a girl scout making her rounds using crutches. So sad.

Good thing Travis likes sausage.