Tag Archives: charlotte

If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be mumblemumblesomethingsomething

Will I get in trouble if I say this is my time of the week?

No, probably not. Not enough people reading this thing* to worry about anyone getting on my case. Most of you folks are either nice, know me well enough to know I’m harmless or are family and, in that last case, I know about you, too, so don’t even try.

Anyway, I wanted to point you in the direction of, yet again, the Charlotte Parent Magazine community blogs Stay-At-Home Dudes site where I’ve written a little bit for them. In other words, this is the day of the week where I put in some time over there. This time I’m talking about surviving a torture most cruel and unusual and me doing the most amazing thing ever.

Small taste for when you go there: I Punked The Batman!**

I’ll be back here with more good stuff. That was a promise, not a threat. I’ve been told that people often have a hard time distinguishing between the two when I’m saying them. Not sure I understand, but there you go.

Footnotes and Errata

* Except for the 160-odd of you dudes who decided on Sunday to start reading a four-year-old post about horrifying members of class insecta called Palmetto Bugs. No, I don’t get it either, but I’m certainly glad you (or they) visited. I might have to start writing more about cockroaches and the rest of those types.
** Not kidding, either. I’ve got photographic evidence. Go there now and read all about it.

Share on Facebook

A Thing Of Many Splendors

It’s not too late to talk about love, right?

I mean, sure, Valentine’s Day was a couple of weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean that love, itself, is out of date.

At least, that’s what I’m going with because I’ve got a good idea here and I’m going to roll with it, no matter what day it is. Because that’s how we roll here. So let’s roll. Rock and roll. Rock up the mountain and roll on down the hill?

Moving on.

Love, to return to my original point, is a thing. This thing that is love, you could say that it is splendiferous. That it has many splendiferousnessids. Or many splendors does this thing has.

Or something like that. I really think I’m close to an aphorism there. Just need to keep working on it. I’m close. Darn close.

Moving on. Again. Still.

Love sprang to my mind the other day when I was driving along the road from Charlotte to Wilmington as part of the never-ending treadmill of college and home.

There I was, just driving along and minding my own business when I almost ran off the road. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I mean, sure I grew up in the South, but I’ve always been the sort of liberal individual who doesn’t like guns and tries to avoid looking at them or thinking about them because they only get me in a bad mood.

Mostly I don’t ready the many, many billboards advertising gun shops or shooting galleries or gun shows. This one, though, I just couldn’t miss.

While this picture was taken in, I believe, Georgia, the sign I saw was Yes, it really does say that if you buy her a diamond, you will get a free hunting rifle, for those sorts of people for whom this would be attractive, I'm guessing this would be attractive to them.almost exactly the same, but in North Carolina.

Yes, it really does say that if you “Buy her a diamond,” you will “get a free hunting rifle.”

“Well, BillyBobRayBoy, I weren’t gonna propose to ArleneSue, but, hell, son, I needed me a new huntin’ rifle since I lost the old one running from them rabid ducks. . . You ‘member, right? Anyway, figured I might as well put a pull the trigger twice, nowutimean?”

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how that conversation went. Or I might be stereotyping. But, either way, it’s a darn funny thing to see as you’re driving along the highway.

So. To love. And, no, I’m not going to end this by talking about how I “love” making fun of people who like things that are demonstrably stupid beyond measure different from what I like. Although, yes, it certainly looks like that.

Despite the somewhat cruel conversation I imagined up above, I’ll bet the purchase really was made with love in the heart. I’m certain the people who went and purchased a ring and a hunting rifle, did so for the ring.

Showing love for an amazing woman had to be paramount. The ability to blow the brains out of anything at 100 meters was just gravy.

Share on Facebook

Tales From The Ice Age

Down here in the South, we’re not used to being snowed in.

Well, we are, but normally by snow we mean sunshine and by snowed in we mean enjoying the warm, sunny day. But I’m guessing it’s not really the same thing.

Anyway, the Great Blizzard of 2014 lasted from a Tuesday through a Saturday, which was when even the most timid person could drive on roads that had most recently been covered by snow and ice.

So, the other day, I was talking to some of my fellow survivors and we were discussing our various problems that surfaced when we couldn’t leave the house for almost four whole days.

With no further ado, I bring you one of those stories. I warn you, it’s not for the meek at heart, the timid nor the easily frightened. It contains instances of cannibalism* too frightening to be discussed in polite company.

Allow me to introduce Henry Tudor, who works as a freelance educator here in Charlotte. He’s a young dad, with two kids. His youngest is a little dude, who is about 2 years old. His first child, a young dudette, is about 4 years old.

“I got home Monday night and couldn’t leave the house until Saturday when I started calling people up and begging them to see if they needed to meet anywhere.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. It was fun. We made snow forts, built snowmen and threw snowballs and all that stuff. But we were Cheetos are a great snack, even though they leave your fingers all orange and sticky and with yellow crumbs all over your mouth.basically stuck inside for four days. And that’s inside for four days with two kids under 5 years old.

It seemed like all I was doing all day, every day, for all those snow-in days was picking stuff up. I would pick up one batch of stuff, get it squared away, then turn around and find another completely different batch of stuff scattered all over a different room. I almost got to the point where I was seriously considering that they were doing it on purpose, that they were out to get me.

As bad as all these messes were, nothing will beat what my son did.

I was putting away another armful of toys and stuff when he darted off behind my back to the pantry. There he got out a bag of those cheese crunches, like Cheetos. He ran to the couch and emptied the entire bag all along the length of the couch.

Then he stripped naked and started dancing all up and down on the Cheetos-filled couch.

I had a hard time getting angry about it because I was laughing so hard. It just made no sense. I asked him why he did it and he just looked up at me, completely innocent and shrugged. He had no idea. I guess it just seemed a good idea at the time.

I mean, it drove me crazy, but, I had to admit, as performance art, it was definitely next-level stuff.”

I’m happy to report that mother, daughter, son and father all made it through the experience only a little the worse for wear. The couch mostly cleaned up and the son had a nice midnight snack between his toes for the next day or so, which made him happy.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is kids in a nutshell. Not just dain-bramaged adults, but completely alien beings, who only happen to look like chubby, little adults.

*No, it doesn’t. I lied about that, mostly just for the lulz. I mean, the idea of a giant Cheeto eating a bunch of little Cheetos and it can’t stop. . . That’s comedy gold. Too bad I didn’t actually include anything about that in the post.

Share on Facebook