Fall (Not-So) Break - In Retrospect

    Fall Break was not bad. I mean, after all, I did get off of work and away from the kids for a week. I didn’t have to take attendance, collect lunch money, or tell little Jim Bob to stop flicking boogers at girls (scary how close to truth that is). However, the week was not a complete week off, per se.

     On Monday, I decided it was the perfect day to finally pressure wash the house. After all, the sun was bright, it wasn’t too hot, and there was some mildew on the siding. So, I called up the most reliable person I know in the entire world; my papaw. He brought out his pressure washer, showed me how to run it, made sure I wouldn’t kill myself or punch holes in my house with it (I’m about as mechanically inclined as an unborn fetus), and left me to my own devices. I cleaned the siding in about an hour and a half. Not too shabby! At this point, I went to put up the washer…. and noticed my front porch was looking rough.   /insert evil laugh here



"You said crossing the streams would be bad, Ray!"

     In the true spirit of Halloween (with a healthy dose of my unhealthy imagination), I spent the next 2 hours pretending to be a Ghostbuster (also in my top movies of all time). As I took the wand and blasted evil, ghoulish spirits (a.k.a. mildewed porch rails) and constantly quoted Peter Venkman (“Think chick is toast!” and “Don’t cross the streams!”), I slowly pulled off the dirt and chipped paint of the porch. Looking back, it sounds ridiculous. But, when I think about it, well…. yeah, it’s ridiculous.

I tried to include before and afters of the porch, but couldn't get em to load... Suffice it to say that I didn't catch any ghosts. However, I did catch several shards of broken and splintered wood to areas of exposed skin. /fail

   On Tuesday, at midnight, I was at Wal-Mart buying a new game in a franchise that I LOVE; Fallout: New Vegas. As you may have read earlier, I’m obsessed with zombies. This doesn’t have zombies exactly, but irradiated ghouls and mutants are a close second! Anything post-apocalyptic is right up my alley. I returned home and began my 14 hour playing spree. Good Times!

  

   Wednesday involved me finishing up some painting that I had started earlier in the summer in the stairwell. I kept putting it off because I couldn’t figure out how to get my ladder close to the ceiling on a set of stairs. However, after talking to my granny (who is nearly as resourceful as my papaw), she told me about setting a cinder block on the stair just beneath the one I am using to level out the ladder. This made painting a stairwell a TON easier! If any of you want to use the idea, please send a $25 idea fee to my p.o. box. You’re welcome. J

   Also on Wednesday night, Paul and I went to Beef O’Brady’s for a beverage. We had to order 5 at a time because (as I told the waitress), it takes forever to get someone over to your seat on Trivia Night. And yes, I stiffed her on the tip. Someone who sucks as bad as she did on a night that wasn’t that busy gets no tip. If it’s your job to be a server, and you can’t serve more than 4 people at a time, then you need a new job. Of course, on the other hand, if her job was walker-arounder-and-do-nothinger, I’d have paid handsomely. She was phenomenal at that... On a side note, we weren’t technically participating in the trivia, but we would’ve come in 5^th (even after missing the 1^st round of questions). Yeah, we're epic.

   Thursday was mostly uneventful. I tried to catch up on some napping, but couldn’t get settled in or comfortable. Sometimes it just works out that way. The same could be said for Friday. I live a fairly boring life… and I’m good with that most of the time.

    Saturday I played in a golf tournament with my best friend. We aren’t that good, and played that way on Saturday. It was still good fun and it was a great day to be outside! Anytime athletic events and beer can be combined, it’s an event I want to be a part of. Saturday evening was spent watching Jenny try on every stitch of clothing from 3 stores. In the end, the closet was full, the bank account was empty, and I was exhausted!

   Sunday proved to be just as long of a day, but we can catch up on that next time…

   Whew. I’m tired just typing that…

I Truly Hate...

 After reading a friend’s post, I decided that a ‘hate’ blog was in order. The problem with being opinionated is that I find tons of stuff that I can’t stand. “But, Derrick, hate is such a strong word. You don’t really mean it!” Two words: Get. Bent. If I didn’t mean to say it, then I wouldn’t say it. People who say that they don’t hate anything are probably people who hate the most things, but are terrified to speak their mind, in case someone questions their opinions and motives. So, I’ll start my list with those people…

I HATE…

1.      people who say that they don’t hate anything. Yes, it’s a definitive word, but have some backbone and speak your mind.

2.      waking up EXACTLY 7 seconds before the alarm goes off. Honestly, I picture God looking down and laughing at me. He does have a sense of humor, you know.

3.      parents who refuse to spank their kids. When did we begin this nationwide, prissification (yeah, just made that up) of our children? No wonder every buck-toothed, knock-kneed, web-footed, ‘my-mom-bakes-better-cookies-than-your-mom’ 6 year old feels like they are entitled to anything they want. Guess what? You’re six. You have no opinion… and if you do, shut up. I don’t care.

4.      people who continually try to “friend” me on Facebook. Look, I’m all for having friends. The problem is that if I have clicked ignore more than twice, I don’t like you THAT much. Yeah, I’d probably accept you if there was an “Accept Acquaintance” button. I know you, I just don’t want to know you more than I do. And I sure don’t want you knowing me more than that…

5.      zombie movies in which the zombies can run. That’s eff’ed up. Whoever thought of this concept, I hate you. too. I don’t have to explain it… It speaks for itself.

6.      98% of all rap music. Come one. How many ways can you talk (rap is not singing) about killing someone, smoking weed, getting drunk, bangin hos, and getting rich? **Side note: I only know that’s what those songs are about because I read the lyrics. No one can understand people who talk with fake metal teeth who shove the mic down their throat, then scream…

7.      the New York Yankees. Honestly, we get it. You have lots of money. Congratulations! You beat teams whose entire salary is roughly the same as your lowest paid player. Good to see that you’re winning with what you have. /sarcasm off

8.      parents who think they are more qualified than I am to do my job. I know on the surface it looks like anyone can do it. I get it. However, I’m probably spending more time with your kid in the average week than you do. I know what they’ve learned, how they learned it, and what they don’t understand. So, by all means, go back to cleaning out the meat lockers at McDonalds and let me do my job. I’m actually really good at it.

Please be advised that this is NOT an all-inclusive list. I’m sure I’ll add to it at some point. Thanks for the idea, A. It was good to get this out. J

Derrick

Tee'd Off

    I played golf yesterday. Please note that I didn't say I played well. Nothing about me, acres and acres of grass, and small flags off in the distance even remotely sounds of a well-planned event. For someone who played basketball, ran cross-country, and played baseball through high school and into college, I assumed playing golf would be a relaxing time out and a chance to show off to my friends... Then, I tried it.

   For as coordinated as I was when I was actively playing sports, I have found that the most intimidating sports-related action is hitting a ball (which is NOT moving, mind you) with a large metallic club. Not to mention that hitting the damned thing is only part of the game; you have to hit it STRAIGHT. Oh yeah, and the sticks with which to hit a golf ball are bent and angled at the end in which you must make contact with the ball! Add to that the fact that each of the various weapons carried in a golf bag are designed to only hit the ball a certain distance. So, now you have to find out how far that can be hit by you because everyone can hit the same club at a different distance. Brain hurt yet?

   Nevermind that fact that I'm stupidly sore. Golf is probably that sport with the LEAST amount of contact (in my case that could mean person-to-person or club-to-ball contact). Without fail, I am sore for 2 days after we play. How is it that a fully-functioning human being can move and work every day and NEVER use 90% of the muscle groups needs to hit a golf ball? **Note to self: Create new workout video "Sweatin' the Birdies."**

   The BEST part of golf for me is just being out with the guys. We drive around on a cart, drinking beer in the hot sun, cussing at every shot we take that doesn't go where we want (so, every shot), reminding each other how horrible we are, kicking the ball using our "shoe wedge" (not a standard club, unless you play with our rules), and continually quoting the greatest golf movie of all time, Caddyshack. This is in my top five movies of all time (a later blog for sure). A MUST-SEE for anyone who loves comedies, Bill Murray, or movies with a lot of amazing one-liners.
 

"Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former greenskeeper, now, about to become the Masters champion. It looks like a mirac... It's in the hole!"



   For anyone reading this and saying to themselves, "Golf is easy! All you have to do is...." Suck it. The only thing tougher than golf is trying to figure out why a woman takes 3 hours to get ready to go sit in a movie theater where it's completely dark and no one can see her even if they wanted to... Another of the universe's mysteries....

Let's See What Happens...

   About 732 times a day, I tell myself, "Note to self: Remember THIS!" Apparently, my inner-self is deaf, because without fail I will forget 9.7 out of every 10 things I tell myself to remember. The .3 is accounted for because I usually remember that I was supposed to remember something; I just can't think of what it was.

    That being said, I've decided that this is as good a way as any to help me remember things. In the extreme likelihood I need to look back, it'll be here in writing. There is a lot going on right now. I'll try to keep the 1st one short and sweet.

   I guess as a little background for those who don't know me that well (which I'm hoping is most anyone reading this. If not, creepy... but to each, his own) I'll try to give a little background run-down. I'm 30. I'm married. I have an amazing son named Cameron, a.k.a. Monk. This kid is never ceases to amaze me. He's not quite 3 yet, but has no problem telling you what an octagon looks like, sings most of a couple Black Eyed Peas songs, and was talking at 4 months old... I'm not sure where he gets it, but he makes me a proud papa!

Monk and random frog friend

   I'm a teacher. That in and of itself could carry enough material to hold its own blog, but I'm sure it'll find enough room here in time. We were all kids once. When I look back, I think about how lucky I was to have some semblance of common sense.... Somewhere along the line, kids are losing the ability to place two rational thoughts in a row... Again, a post for another day.



   I listen to a lot of random music. The greatest movie of ALL TIME is Back to the Future.  If you even THINK that it's anything but this, please see a doctor. 


"This is heavy, Doc."

   I try to read as much as possible. I play video games. I dream about zombies (Yet, another post). I'm diagnosed OCD. I always think about working out and getting in shape... but immediately think about how awesome ice cream and japanese food is and forget about working out. I've been know to do a few 16 oz. curls. I'm throwing that one out there now in case I decide to throw out the occasional intoxicated post... trust me, it's gonna happen.

   That's enough for an intro, I guess. Hopefully, this'll go well. I got the idea from Aleena. So, if you see this, THANKS! :) Here's to something new... Let's see what happens...

Derrick