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.

Some Things Never Change

This past weekend was somewhat bittersweet for me. While visiting family in Kansas City I had the pleasure of returning to my old stompin' grounds. I wasn't Norm, but I spent a good amount of time at Kennedy's Bar and Grill. I should say the old Kennedy's. Several years ago it went up in flames, a total loss. Just a couple of weeks ago they opened the new and improved Kennedy's, it's not the same.

Most noticeably, it's clean, way too clean. Now it looks like every other cosmopolitan drinking establishment in America. There are fancy flat screen TVs without a set of rabbit ears in sight. The restroom lacked the stationary fan formerly used to air out the musty smell. There is even a door on the men's stall.

One welcome sight was the lack of stairs. Those stairs caused many problems over the years, including the time my friend Coop fell down the entire flight and crashed his head through the Pabst Blue Ribbon Neon. I think Coop finally gave up on the stairs, at least he did the night he couldn't make it to the top and just decided to go in his pants. It really wasn't a big deal, he just turned turned his pants around.

It was a little sad for me going back. The name was the same, a couple of the people were the same. Sadly, for the patrons on Saturday night, the stuff that comes out of the Jagermeister machine was the same. So was I when I stumbled out.

Some things not even a fire can change.

Help Me Spin The Wheel

As a husband, there is nothing more enjoyable than seeing my wife happy. Like the old adage, if she's happy, we're all happy.

We've had many great blessings in our three years of marriage. From the smiles we shared on our wedding day, to beach vacations, our years together have provided us with many laughs and smiles.

This evening I had the pleasure of seeing my wife as excited as I have ever seen her. More excited than the day we each said, I do. The jubilation we shared when we met her idol Dave Matthews did not compare to this evening.

She had the worlds largest smile, the laughter brought tears to her eyes. It was pure elation.

Tonight Lindsay got a call that changed the course of her life. It was from her brother. After a brief moment on the phone, the excitement from her voice as she summonsed me to the bedroom quickly brought me to my feet.

As I entered the bedroom, I was quickly directed to turn my attention to Wheel of Fortune on the TV.

"I know that guy!" she screamed.

I asked, "the midget"?

"No, the designated wheel spinner for the midget."

Lindsay grew up with a guy who was responsible for spinning the wheel for the little guy.

"The midget won sixty thousand dollars and an Alaskan Cruise!" she proudly shouted.

It was a big night.

DW Goes Golfin'

After spending a few minutes watching the Nascar race yesterday, I started wondering what it would be like if Darrell Waltrip replaced Jim Nantz in the both at the Master's.

"Tiger's puttin' is good, he might could win this whole dern thing".

"He used to not be so good with that there wedge, but he's got er' figured out today".

"I seen his daddy do it, I know where he gets it".

"He did the same thing yesturday, you'd think he'd done learned that things gotta be a fade"

"Boogity boogity bogity, let's tee off boys."

I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but after watching yesterday's race, I was tempted to take the online, "is MENSA right for you" quiz.

I didn't, I seen the questions and them looked hard.

Hey Big Boy, Wanna ride???

There is someone I am dying to meet. Not the Pope, not the President, nor Paris Hilton. None of the above.

I want to meet the guy, that like myself, saw a lawnmower commercial on TV with a scantily clad model informing viewers, "it's the best ride out there." The only difference between he and I, the mystery man thought to himself, "Damn, she's hot, I'm gonna go buy me that two thousand dollar lawn mower."

Did he think that when he showed up at Earl's Tractor Supply Company, Buffy was going to come bouncing out of the back room to help him fill out his paperwork? Perhaps he thought that she would be impressed by the fact that his Chase Rewards card had a credit limit that afforded him the opportunity to make this big purchase. Maybe he was naive enough to think he might get a little extra attention if he takes the plunge on the all new Ultra Deluxe Lawn Wizard.

I don't get it.

I see it all the time on TV, some hottie trying to convince me that she is an expert on lawn mowers, hot tubs, or used cars, and that I need to buy one from her. I am sorry, it is going to take more than a blonde in a two piece to make me shell out a couple G's for something I don't really need.

However, if they offered a dozen free Krispy Kreme's I'd be driving my 1998 Grand Prix to the Quickee Mart to pick up a gallon of gas for my new lawn mower as I get the yard ready for my hot tub party.

Don't over think your marketing strategy, doughnuts know more about cars, mowers and hot tubs than those girls.

Table For One

I don't know if there is anything more American than a diner. I'm talking about a real, been around for fifty years and there isn't another one in the world kind of diner. They're one of the last authentic American establishments.

Usually owned by generations of a particular family, diners are one of the last standing American institutions that haven't been overtaken by greed. They provide their owners and staff a comfortable living, and their customers an oasis from all of the worlds problems.

There is usually a soda fountain, and most likely a nice selection of tasty malts. You can count on an elderly woman working the register, along with her team of geriatric wait staff. The sounds of Conway Twitty can usually be heard coming from the dust filled speakers hanging from the ceiling. Most of the time you can find a postcard or two near the register along with the world famous jar of bubble gum marked boldy in magic marker, $.03.

I had lunch at a local diner today. Fortunately, I was alone and had the pleasure of soaking it all in. From the lady behind me who was under the impression that each day of the week ends with the letters eee. Yes, on multiple occasions she uttered the word, Thursdeee. I was OK with it, she's been saying Thursdeee for eighty five years, I'm not going to be the guy to tell her it is actually Thursday. No biggie. I couldn't help but notice the man, probably pushing eighty, that was alone enjoying a small cup of soup. I couldn't tell if I ate fast, or he was really slow, as I finished my double burger, large onion rings and Diet Coke before he finished his small cup of soup. I was most impressed with my waitress. She was certainly well past retirement age, and walked with a slight limp, but she was the nicest lady. There are some businesses that would frown upon calling your customer honey, not here. Every other word out of her mouth was honey, and I loved it.

Sometimes I wish the world was more about making people happy than making money. The folks that run diners have that figured out. Next time you get hungry, don't forget the little guys, they'll treat you right and they'll put gravy on your onion rings, if you ask!