Something is afoot at the Circle K.....

Sheeps and I both managed to have a few days off at the same time, so we decided to venture forth to the wilds of North Carolina to see my mother. Sheeps had yet to meet her, and I haven't seen her in a few years. (Yes, yes, I am a horrible son...) We ventured out into the great blue yonder... Okay, it was the great tarred wonder, as we drove.... The trip up was fairly uneventful. And by uneventful, I mean sitting in holiday traffic for hours on end, doing nothing... Yay! At one point, in glorious "Salisbury, NC", the 5pm rush hour plus holiday traveller interstate traffic was funnelled into one lane. So, we pulled into Mom's driveway about 2.5 hours later than originally expected...

Moms and Sheeps got along well, teaming up to pick on this poor, unfortunate turtle. Good times. Actually, it was good times.

Thanksgiving turned out to be a lot more work than I'd anticipated. My plan was to eat lots of turkey, watch football, burp a lot, eat more turkey. Typical male holiday plans. I ended up having to help a lot with the cooking. Mom is pretty petite, believe it or not (all the women in my family are, the menfolk being monstrous giants...), and my bro, T is just recovering from surgery (tore his bicep) so is the one-armed man right now. (Dr. Kimble, beware!) That meant slingin' the 18 lb bird around became my responsibility. I'm actually a fairly proficient cook, so it wasn't all that bad.

Then the guests started arriving. It might be a bit important to point out that this is rural North Carolina... The accents were thick. I was warned to behave myself and not laugh at them, at least not to their faces. I was good. I mostly avoided them. Sheeps and I struck up a conversation with my niece's husband, and that pretty much occupied our time. It was later that we found out this was a great accomplishment, as he is supposedly very stranger-shy, and usually sits around quietly, talking to no one... Go us!

Another of the attendees was my bro's girlfriend, K. She was bringing her daughter, K2, who would be bringing her daughter, K3. We were warned, several times, that K3 was (whispered) "black". You have to understand that I am the youngest of my family, and was the first to be raised in a fully integrated society. It seems hard to believe, but the age of segregation really wasn't *that* long ago... It really isn't their fault that they hold some outdated beliefs, but they're working on it. They apparently don't realize that I was raised in the age of enlightenment. Heck, I went to a predominantly black high school. As a matter of fact, that was the name of it - Predominantly Black High School. Kidding. I kid! Anyway, K3 was a charming young lady, who is mulato, not black, but I didn't even want to get into that discussion....

Being that I had to get back to G'ville to work the UF-FSU game, we had to cut the visit short and leave Friday morning. We left an hour later than the trip up, stopped for 2 sit-down meals (Sheeps is still recovering from oral surgery, so "road food" is right out...) and still made it home about the same time we'd arrived at Mom's. The trip south was uneventful. Mostly. Here we come to subject matter...

We stopped in Columbia, SC for a meal, and a gas-up. After eating, we pulled into the service station, filled the tank, and went inside to get some road drinks. While waiting in line, we struck up a congenial conversation with the gentleman in front of us. He'd spotted Sheeps' Ohio State sweatshirt, and commented, being a Gamecock fan, himself. I didn't mention that we were both actually Gator fans, as we'd kicked the living snot out of them a couple weeks before. He was very friendly, though with a very heavy accent... Nice guy. He got to the front of the line, and put his items on the counter. As the clerk was ringing him up, the following conversation took place between he and the clerk. (You have to put a very, very heavy 'suthern' accent to this to truly appreciate...)

He: "Is Amy in?"
Clerk: "Nope."
H: "Mah wife wuz in heer las' night."
C: "Yep."
H: "I don' 'preciate yoo callin' her a crack-head."

(The volume levels raised rapidly, as did our eyesbrows. We stood quietly, with sphincters clenched, awaiting the impending shotgun battle...)

C: "I don' 'preciate wut she dun!"
H: "Yoo ain't got no call talkin' ta her like that!"
C: "She don' got no call to act like she done!"
H: "Amy's gonna hear 'bout this and yer ass is gonna git fired!"
C: "She already knows, an' yoo can git banned from this here store agin!"
"We'll see wut happins!!"

(Again?)

As he walked out of the store, backwards so he could glare at her, he bumped into the magazine rack. C: "See? That's a rack, there! Yer drunk!"

(Don't poke the bear!!)

Luckily, he did not go out to his vehicle to get a weapon, and we managed to avoid being on CNN that day. For a while, though, it was questionable... We paid for our drinks quickly and hurried out to the car and got the hell out of there.

So, how was your Thanksgiving?

Tagged....

So, I got tagged by Marius...

Here are the rules:
a. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
b. Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird.
c. Tag 7 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).

1. I don't really like tagging people. I almost feel like I am forcing an obligation upon others. I don't, however, mind getting tagged. Gives me a topic and forces me out of the "I don't feel like posting" duldrums. Double-standard, I know, I know...

2. I almost never remember my dreams. When folks start going on and on about this or that vivid dream they had, I almost don't believe them... How can they possibly remember all that? Well, I don't, any way...

3. I am irrationally afraid of dolls that move on their own. Freaks the bejabbers out of me. And clowns. Really don't care for 'em too much. And clown dolls? That move? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!

4. I find a lot of things out of popular culture to be banal, and boring. Popular TV shows? Don't generally care. Funny new movie. Find 'em to be pretty stupid, usually. Wil Farrell? Can't stand him, for the most part.

5. Speaking of celebrities... I can't watch any movie starring Keanu Reeves without hearing him talk 'skater dude' ala "Bill and Ted". Every single movie he's in... "Whoa! Dracula! You have a most excellent castle!" "I TOTALLY should have taken the blue pill!" You get the picture.

6. I like adult "toys". NO, not THAT kind! I'm talkin' Sharper Image. If I had the cash, I'd blow a lot of it in stores like S.I. I just love gadgets. Even though they're usually worthless, or of little value.

7. I am an utterly horrible communicator. I don't mean to imply that I can't communicate, but simply that I tend not to. Writing? Emails? Phone calls? Bad at it. You can tell by the irregularity of my posts here.... If you want to keep in touch with me, you're going to have to take the initiative. It's not that I don't want to. I just don't.

Okay, now to tag.... Wait, didn't you read number 1?? If you're reading this, and haven't already been tagged by someone else, and you feel up to it, go ahead and give 'er a shot.

So, yeah, the Owls

UF played FAU in game that meant little to nothing, other than helping Tim Tebow gain some records, some notoriety, and a little more hype toward the Heisman. Don't get me wrong, the man's amazing, and he's only a sophomore. I can't wait to see how he does in the next fews years as he matures and develops into a first rate quarterback. My regrets come from having to work that day at the bar, and making little money. I know, I know, money isn't everything..., but there were some much better things I could have done than stand around a half empty bar for hours and hours... It wasn't a conference game, it didn't really mean anything to the stats... Heck, FAU didn't even HAVE a football team until about 6 years ago... It was a "nothing" game.

The one "high point" occurred somewhat early into the evening. I was making a drink order and in my peripheral vision caught a young man reaching over the bar and turning off one of the bar lights. This light pretty much illuminates my work area. It is fairly dark with it off. I calmly reached over, turned it back on, looked him in the eye as he started to deny doing it, and said, "Please don't touch it again."

I went back to mixing the drinks and delivered them to the imbibers, just in time to catch the light being turned off again. I went back down the end and turned it back on. I glared at him and warned, "Don't touch it again." "My mom thinks it's too bright," he muttered. "I don't care. Touch it again and I'll kick all of you out." "Do you know who I am?!" "No, enlighten me." "I'm SC's room-mate!" I laughed in his face. "SC" is my usual Friday evening barback, and he's not all that great at his job. As a matter of fact, he's pretty much the worst barback at "The Dog". If you're going to drop names, at least make sure that they're somebody who actually counts for something....

I told the other bartender, Z, about the interchange, and he laughed as well. Mr. SC's Roommate decided that he wanted another drink, but I was in full ignore mode by time, as was Z. He finally managed to get Z's attention, and wanted to close out his tab. He made every effort to make sure that I was the one to pick up the slip. Of course, he tipped "$0.00", as we had little doubt he would.

"That's what you get!" he snarked. "Not much less than usual, but it doesn't matter, 'cause I'm going to take it out on SC's hide." He stared at me with the blank look that his whole family seemed to share. "You've just made your room-mates life a living hell," I explained. "He works for me, does what I tell him to, and he gets paid whatever I feel like tipping him out. By the way, find yourself another bar. You're not welcome here."

I walked away with a big smile, and they left in a snit that made my cockles glow. I love shutting down buttheads.

Too good to not share...

So, I process contracts all day long. Mostly. For some reason, I've been doing a bunch of churches today. I just processed a contract for a church that goes by the name of "Hermits of Bethlehem in the Heart of Jesus, Inc". What so funny about that? The name of the contact person: Mary Magdaline