Tag Archives: weird

Say NO to Sag… and YES to tricorn hats!!

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Ok, I guess I should start by apologizing profusely for yet again letting an absurd amount of time pass between posts. What stinks is I’ve had so many things ruminating about in my brain, and just no time to share them!

 

This gem I’ve held on to since Saturday, just dying for a few minutes to tick-tack-type it onto my blog. But let me go back a few months, to Thanksgiving. The BFE and I did something that I do my best to NEVER do, unless it is an absolute emergency.

 

We went to Wal-Mart. On Thanksgiving Day, no less.

 

We were taking a dish to a friend’s potluck Thanksgiving Day dinner, and needed a couple of missing ingredients to put it all together. As we are walking in, a young man in front of us stops and bends over to pick up one of the turkey fryers that was on sale, exposing approximately 8-10 inches of red plaid underpants in the process. I couldn’t help myself: “Hey, I can see your underwear!!”

so no to sag

Not ok.

Plaid Guy, pauses, gives me a look that clearly says WTH: “Um… thanks?” Walks away.

BFE tugs my sleeve. “What’s wrong with you??”

Me: “Well it was obviously NOT a secret, I mean, he must have wanted us to know. He even had on decorative undies for the occasion! Christmas is coming!!”

BFE shook his head. I had to hear a lecture throughout our tour of Wal-Mart on how if the guy had bene rude to me then B would have had to deck him, and how he didn’t want to hit people, etc. etc.

pants on the ground

Honestly, I hadn’t seen the “sagging” pants trend in quite a while before this happened, and had forgotten that it was a “thing”.

 

Fast forward a few months, I come across another dude; this guy had clearly put some effort into his outfit, had everything coordinated and tidy, and he was, dare I say it, DAPPER… except for the 8-10 inches of undergarments staring (because “peeking” doesn’t even cover it), staring out at everyone from the back of his ensemble.

why

Sporting plaid for the holiday season – festive sagging!

Ok, first of all, how do they stay up? Normally your rear end acts as a natural “shelf” for pants. Do you walk about holding them constantly with one hand? What if you have a two-handed project, like carrying your fast food to the car, or walking the dog and picking up his poo with a bag? Is it a conscious effort to color coordinate the draws with everything else? Do they really think girls find them sexy? Like a girl’s gonna go “oooh, he’s displaying his clean and coordinated panties as a part of a normal highly stylized contemporary mating ritual, I must get with him and make him mine”? Finally, what purpose does showing everyone your unmentionables serve? Now we’re mentioning them, so are they technically still “unmentionables”? I have so many questions.

no ok

What’s funny is I’d forgotten about color coordinated guy until I saw something that sparked even more questions. Driving home from work the other day I saw I young man, probably 13, 14, 15. He was shirtless and showing off his bird chest, kinda in that defiant way, like he’s trying to own it, even though clearly puberty hasn’t come for a visit yet? Anyway, he’s walking down the street, bird-chested and shirtless, with sagging pants. Le Sigh.

 

But that’s not the best part! He was sporting a – wait for it – tricorn hat.

 

Yeah, like Yankee Doodle Dandy, Bee-yotch!

Yeah, like Yankee Doodle Dandy, Bee-yotch!

A TRICORN HAT! Like Captain Jack Sparrow was back, ready to take over the central Florida area!!!

 

Outside of tacky Disney tourists and bad Jack Sparrow Halloween costumes, I thought tricorn hats had disappeared from regular circulation, but here’s bird chest guy, strutting down the street a-la John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever, pimping a dingy, dusty tricorn hat. It was so effing weird.

Not as weird as these guys, but close.

Not as weird as these guys, but close.

I’ve had a few days to think on this, and I’ve come to the conclusion, what if guys stopped with the sagging pants as a “thing” and made tricorn hats the new “thing”??

 

Even women could get in on the new style, and totally rock them. I mean, I would look sooo bad-a$$ in a tricorn hat. You could wear big ones, small ones.

so rock this

I would SO rock this hat.

They could become the statement pieces at fashion runways and you could rummage at Marshall’s and TJ Maxx to find discount designer tricorns. You would know that the trend has reached its peak when you see Ryan Seacrest sporting on E!.

Glamourshots ain't got nothin' on my Olan Mills pics with my new tricorn hat!!

Glamourshots ain’t got nothin’ on my Olan Mills pics with my new tricorn hat!!

I’m serious!!! Say NO to sag, and YES to tricorn hats!!!! Who’s with me??!!!!

Wal-Mart. A Love Story.

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So I wrote this back in early December, and for reasons to be revealed in the blog post I couldn’t post it. Until now.

Happy New Year’s yall!!

– Peach

 

 

 

Every. Fricking. Time.

Today: found an item on my Christmas shopping list for the BFE at walmart.com and, since i was so late in ordering, decided the “site to store” option would secure my item at a good price and i would leisurely walk up to customer services and pick it up. Right?? Ha.

First thing: no where on the site does it tell you where the “site to store” desk is located. So i headed to customer service and stood behind a girl that was smacking her head.

 

 

If you’re not familiar with the Smack Technique, let me explain: when your scalp itches, you smack your head instead of scratching it, usually to avoid messing up your hair (weave/ wig) or, if you’re getting a perm/relaxer soon, as this avoids irritating the scalp. It’s a fairly ghetto thing to do, and i am ashamed to admit that after learning about it in college (where most of our worst habits as people are formed) i have been a hair smacking offender from time to time, in between relaxers. This girl wasn’t waiting on her next Dark n’ Lovely fix; she was slapping her head to avoid messing up her rather ratty weave ponytail. I was a bit intrigued, and found myself staring without really meaning to: how often do you get to see that kind of train wreck up close?? The only thing that finally drew my eye away was the long false nail of the customer service rep.

 

Ever find yourself in a situation so crazy that you start looking behind pillars and corners, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and say “you’ve been punked”?? Only, that never happens, a: because you’re not a celebrity and b: because that show isn’t even on the air anymore. So there’s nothing left but to realize that real life can be truly, truly crazy.

 

So – Yep, the customer service rep had one of the longest set of false nails I’d ever seen, and was missing at least three of them. I got a pretty good look at them as she was waving them in the face of a guy I can only assume was her baby’s daddy – not because I’m falling prey to stereotypes, but because she was specifically yelling at him about not picking up their son when he knew the kid needed to be at football practice. Guy just stood there taking the verbal lashing while standing awkwardly in jeans and a construction worker vest. Poor man. Yes, this was all happening while I stood in line behind Smack Weave Girl.

 

When I finally got to the front, I found out that the Customer Services desk is not the same as the “Site to Store” desk, and that was located at the back of the store. Le sigh. I counted my losses and figured I’d come away with the start of a good blog 🙂 and headed to the back of the store. Cutting through the men’s clothing section to save time and dodge the shopping carts, I got sniffed – yes, SNIFFED! – by a creeper near the men’s sweaters…

 

Finally reached the Site to Store section, which requires walking past the electronics section, and a display of the VERY ITEM I WAS THERE TO BUY (Call of Duty Black Ops II). Two things: 1 – I discovered that the Site to Store line is also the line for layaways at Christmas time, making for mass chaos. and 2 –  I couldn’t just forego the Site to Store line in favor or grabbing one of the games off the shelf, since I’d already paid for the other one online.

 

So I stood in line behind a woman wearing jeggings about a size too small, and watched another woman having a meltdown with her husband over a child’s pink ATV on layaway. Finally, I whipped out my phone and began to capture the entire experience. Got to the Smack Technique and realized that I couldn’t post this until I gifted the video game to the BFE unless I wanted to ruin the surprise. Le sigh again.

 

Oh, but the story doesn’t end there. One of the reasons I chose to pick up the game from Wal-Mart was because I also purchased the other half of BFE’s Christmas present – tickets to a hockey game – online, and selected the option to pick up hard tickets from, as Ticketmaster called it, a “retail location”. It wasn’t until I paid an extra $3.95 each that the website showed me that Ticketmaster’s “retail locations” for picking up tickets in my area were ALL Wal-Marts. So I thought I’d be smart and kill two birds with one stone, pick up the video game AND the tickets in one swoop. Too bad I picked the one Wal-Mart in my area that couldn’t print the tickets. So two days after my initial visit I found myself at another Wal-Mart, braving the crazy for my beloved BFE.

 

Get to the electronics section, since that’s where they print the tickets, and pass another display stand of Black Ops II games on my way to the cash register (the irony was not lost on me). The cashier prints my tickets… on receipt paper. I paid $3.95 for each ticket for RECEIPT PAPER!! What the hell?!?! Seriously??

 

I feel like Wal-Mart and Ticketmaster partnered together to jack me. Yes, JACK. ME! I ended up in Wal-Mart not once, but twice in the course of 3 days. I got entranced by a Customer Rep’s nails, watched the magical art of head smacking for ratty weaves, got sniffed by a creeper in the Men’s section, and finally got to investigate Jeggings up close. I didn’t even include the number of “pants on the ground” devotees I witnessed, and caught a guy checking out my rack. All in all, I think I got my Wal-Mart fill for the next 18 months. Until then, I return back to the safe, normal confines of Target, where all of the employees wear name tags and easily recognizable work-related clothing, and the only uncomfortable moments I’ve experienced have been hiding from Hot Doctor, walking into a stranger’s fart cloud, and stalking a Target employee named Bubba. Yep, Target, sweet Target.

 

Road Trip!!

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So…  with tomorrow being Thanksgiving , and the holiday season of traveling to and fro and visiting friends and family is about to begin! It got me to thinking back to about a month and some change ago, when I went home to Atlanta for a quick weekend jaunt, and the BFE and I took Ojeda with us.

 

God bless. It was a hot mess.

 

There’s something about guys – you out them in groups, and they conspire and join forces on the craziest sh!t. We left Orlando really early and I guess the early morning rush combined with their general loopiness to great a cacophony of mayhem and foolishness. Pretty early in I decided to journal all of the stuff that happened on our ride up – otherwise no one would believe it. So here it goes…

 

 

5:41 am – BFE and Ojeda come up with a new product that turns your farts into floral smells. They nominate me as the spokesperson and even come up with a commercial. The slogan: “do it with dignity”.

 

6:04 am – BFE drove and I played with Google Sky Map while the stars were still out. HOW HAVE I NEVER KNOWN ABOUT THIS APP?? So neat!

 

7:21 am – We stop at Mickey D’s. Ojeda argues with the cashier over coffee. Dude keeps asking him “How do you want your coffee?”, and O keeps responding, “with cream and sugar”, only to get a response from cashier dude of  “yes but how do you want it?”I could see O turning red and immediately add this event to our trip report.

They ask for a name for our order and I toy with the idea of giving them the name “Primrose Everdeen” so I could yell “I volunteer as tribute!” I know it’s cliche but I do not care.

 

9:04 am – While driving through Tifton, GA (the Reading Capitol of the World) and BFE gets cut off by a large SUV. We pass the vehicle, curious to look at the driver, and debate whether it was a redneck version of Pat from SNL or Honey Boo-Boos mama. Then BFE and O contest that Tifton, GA could not possibly be the reading capitol of the world. I tell them both to stfu.

 

9:20 am – BFE and O argue that computers have only 3 uses for guys: email, facebook and porn. Apparently girls only use computers for email, facebook and pinterest.

 

9:26 am – Pass an old, run-down farmhouse. Ojeda, my Southern-illiterate friend, asks, “is that a plantation?” I tell him to stfu. He asks if plantations are like haciendas. I tell him again: stfu. BFE giggles.

 

10:14 am – We argued over whether pandas and koalas are bears. Fact: koalas are marsupials and pandas are bears. Also discussed acid rain. For some reason, BFE mimics acid rain with a disco beat. Strange. He drives on in silence.

 

10:24 am – Stop at Pilot plaza outside of Macon for gas and bio break. I see a gas truck there. I point and laugh “Bahaha where do gas trucks get gas?!” No one laughs. Guys begin serious discussion of diesel versus gas, and fuel planes fueling mid-air, etc. I don’t understand how fuel planes are more interesting than my gas truck joke. Boys suck.

 

10:36 am – B asks whether to take 75 N through Macon or 475 around Macon. After much debate we decide to take 75 N. O jokes, “you know whichever route we take it is going to be the wrong one!” Immediately the speed limit drops from 65 to 55. B’s all like, “we should have taken 475!” I think he just said that to be on O’s side. Just sayin.

 

10:41 am – Pass sign that says in all caps “lust drags you to hell”. Ain’t that the truth. Interesting change from all the anti-abortion signs, “truck driver lounge/ massage” advertisements and stripper billboards that you usually see in South GA and North FL.

 

10:51 am – Learned something new today. B and O argue about the origin of mobile homes. B says mobile homes are called such because they are from Mobile, AL. O insists it is because they are mobile. Research on the snopes.com website confirms that D is correct.

 

11:00 am – Ojeda reads myths from snopes.com and we guess whether they’re true or false. We’re obviously running out of material.

 

11:40 am – Traffic slows for accident. Ojeda rolls down window and signals to driver driving Dodge Caravan in next lane to see if we can get over. Driver looks at him and then stares straight ahead, continuing to edge forward with no knowledge of O’s request. String of 4 letter words ensues. Once we pass accident BFE floors it to stream past Dodge Caravan dude while I fist pump in the air. I didn’t see it but suspect that Ojeda flipped him off.

 

12:04 pm – Finally – THANK YOU SWEET BABY JESUS! – we arrive in Atlanta. Ojeda yells “ATL Dirty South B!tches!!!! …Oh mylanta!”  out the window with complete abandon. We check in on Facebook at the Pink Pony South. We have arrived!

Pants Off Friday

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There is an event that I look forward to every week: Pants Off Friday.

Now that BFE and I are living in our own place sans roommates, I look forward to it even more. Before, I could only celebrate my peculiar holiday when no one else was home or while confined to my bedroom. Now I have the full run of our place! It’s exhilarating!! Some people find my excitement strange, and just further indication of my weirdness. I find it a relaxing ritual that expresses my freedom: freedom from the work week, freedom from prying eyes, and more importantly… freedom from PANTS.

 

The Rules of Pants Off Friday are simple:

1 – Get home, shut door.

2 – Take off pants.*

3 – Relax on seating arrangement of your choice: couch, floor, bed.

 

*Replacing pants with shorts is option. Some people choose to celebrate Pants Off Friday by just chillaxin’ in their skivvies.    Whatever you do, PLEASE AT LEAST WEAR UNDERWEAR. I can’t believe I have to even say that, but when I’ve explained POF (short for Pants Off Friday) to a few people they’re aghast at the idea of just sitting on the couch naked. That’s not what POF is about! Have some decency people!!

 

Some people celebrate Pants Off Friday with microphones. I choose pizza :p

 

Anyway, as you can see, the nature of Pants Off Friday is pretty simple. After a hard week at work, I just think of it as a natural state of being… the ultimate relaxation. 🙂

So this is how it goes: Friday afternoon, I rush home, take off my pants and relax. That’s pretty much it. It’s like my own little mini-break. Sometimes I’ll go “all the way” and have dinner while celebrating Pants Off Friday – usually it’s pizza, Chipotle or Cheerios. 🙂

 

Pants Off Friday is also a judgement-free zone. I don’t give a flying fart in space if people think it’s weird – those are the folks that need to celebrate it the most! Worrying about whether people think it’s weird will only just ruin POF a little bit. Self-conscious about sharing your weekly celebration with your neighbors? Close the blinds. Think the pizza delivery guy might be judgy? Throw on some sweats when paying for your pizza when he arrives. Once you shut the door, pants back off my friend, and the celebration continues!!

 

Last night, I celebrated Pants Off Friday in a big way: pantsless while enjoying a giant cupcake and mac & cheese from Whole Foods and watching Anna Faris in the movie “What’s Your Number?” (By the way, who knew that cupcakes and mac & cheese made with unbleached wheat flour could be so tasty??) After that I passed out in a food come while watching “10 Things You Don’t Know About FDR” on the History Channel.  Around 10:45 I woke up, cleaned up my “couch nest” created from my work clothes, cupcake wrappers, cell phone charger cable (my phone was dying during POF), blankets and Whole Foods containers. Then I stumbled off to bed. Another Pants Off Friday appropriately celebrated. 🙂

 

The more I talk to people about POF, the more I’m slowly converting the masses. Who wouldn’t want to relax pants-free in the comfort and privacy of their own home? The idea really resonates with people!

 

Admit it. You’re thinking about celebrating Pants Off Friday right now, aren’t you?

 

Go ahead, I won’t judge.

 

Welcome to the couch nest my friend. 🙂

The Rules

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This evening while I was doing my part to get us packed for our big move in 2 weeks I came across a cache of dusty self-help books on one of my bookshelves.

 

One book was “Sexy at Any Size” (a really good book actually), another was the Bridget-Jones inspired “Becoming a Goddess of Inner Poise“…still yet was the snarky “He’s Just Not That Into You“. DID NOT LIKE. THAT BOOK.

 

Then I stumbled across self-help GOLD.

 

My copy of “The Rules: Time-tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right“.

 

Yeah, that’s right. Like many single women, I was handed this book by a well-meaning friend, and actually tried to live by some of the bat-shit crazy rules in this book until I realized trying to live my life by rules set forth on a paperback book was insane and made me look like a controlling social engineer from the depths of crazy-land.

 

It’s funny, it specifically talks in the book about how if you break the rules in this book, you will not find a successful relationship. I personally believe that if you don’t break a few rules in this book, you’ll walk around like you’ve got a stick up your ass. Following this list of arbitrary rules didn’t really work for me. It wasn’t until I broke a few of The Rules that my dating life actually got interesting, and went from the “wishing and reading the Rules” stage to the “living and laughing and leaving the Rules behind” stage.

 

Some rules I effed up on:

 

Broken Rule #1 – Be a “Creature Unlike Any Other”

Hmph. This rule was mostly about keeping a certain amount of mystery in your relationship. I guess I broke that one the first time I peed with the door open. He literally screamed. Now he tries to hand me bank slips to look at while I’m in there with my underpants around my ankles, having personal time and reading Adele’s article in an old Rolling Stone. I’m all like,”What is this?! What do I do with this?!” and He’s all like “I dunno.” Neither of us finds it strange that the interaction is happening while one of us is pantsless.

On 4th of July I pulled  a prank that involved telling him to lift my leg (pantsless of course) and then farting directly into his face. Again, he screamed. And gagged. And laughed.  Almost a week ago and I still cry with laughter about that, and so does he.

Speaking of pantsless… I guess introducing him to my “Pants Off Friday” celebrations probably blew up Rule #1… unless it actually supports #1. I’m pretty sure dancing around without my pants on Fridays makes me a “Creature Unlike Any Other”

 

 

Broken Rule #5 – Don’t Call Him and Rarely Return His Calls

I always returned his calls. I was always so excited to hear from him that I didn’t have the self-control to be coy and all not-calling-back right away.

 

 

Rule #6 – Always End Phone Calls First

Um… yeah, like the first 2 months he was ALWAYS the one that hung up first, usually because he fell asleep while I was talking excessively. See Broken Rule #5

 

 

Broken Rule #14 – No More Than Casual Kissing on the First Date

I guess now’s the time to tell the Story of the Cold.

The BFE and I met through online dating. When I finally bullied him into asking me out, we jokingly came up with a code: if he tried to kiss me, and I wasn’t feeling it, I would just say “I have a cold”.

Our first date was a movie… while we’re sitting there, he leans over and is all like “Hey, I don’t have a cold”… I laughed and kissed him. I haven’t stopped kissing him yet. 🙂

Our good-bye kiss after he walked me to my car lasted about 25 minutes. I don’t think I ever left so happy. I guess technically it wasn’t “casual kissing”. 🙂

 

 

Broken Rule #17 – Let Him Take the Lead

Are you kidding me? What is this, 1925? See Broken Rule #14… he kept beating around the bush so I finally got him to ask me out. I kinda let him believe it was his idea. So in theory he took the lead… right?

 

 

Broken Rule #22 – Don’t Live with a Man (or Leave Your Things in His Apartment)

Whatever. He moved in with me, so I didn’t actually move in with him. It was the best thing we ever did.

 

 

Broken Rule #31 – Don’t Discuss the Rules with Your Therapist

That smacks of someone desperate to hide their crazy. I’ve said it before, and I’ll said it again: “In the South we don’t hide our crazy. We sit it on the front porch and give it a cocktail”. My friends are my therapists, and the idea of having to hide some element of my nutjob personality from my friends is exhausting. I once tried to explain the rules to my friend Kev, and I could visually SEE part of his life force draining away due to the sheer tedium of all the rules.

 

 

I guess each person has to decide for themselves if The Rules is something they want to do. I just felt it was a bit antiquated for me and my lifestyle, along with somewhat crazy and most importantly, a set of rules specifically designed to hide the best parts of yourself from your partner.

I mean, yes, some of that stuff is common sense, and is designed for those girls that get so excited with each new prospect that they shoot straight for Stage 5 Clinger. I agree – you probably shouldn’t go all stalker-y on potential new date guy, but seriously? Why should I hide who I am? How could I NOT share Pants Off Friday with the dude that might end of being my Baby Daddy? If you can’t take me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best. And that means no Pants Off Friday for you!

A Day in Tarpon Springs

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As weird as Florida may be, it’s got some pretty cool places to visit, many barely a day’s trip from Orlando.

 

A couple of my friends invited me on a day’s trip to Tarpon Springs, a cool like Greek settlement turned tourist attraction. For more about Tarpon Springs and its history you can simply google Tarpon Springs, or read a little bit here: http://spongedocks.net/tarpon-springs-history.htm.

 

Anyhoo, I took a few pictures of my day and wanted to share. That’s all I’ve got today people. 🙂

 

A cool diver mosaic on one of the buildings.

Visiting one of the Greek bakeries. This place was hoppin!

Our new friend we made during our visit. 🙂

Another cool mosaic from the antique district.

Trying to convince the BFE that we should give up everything we have and move to Tarpon Springs. he could be a diver, and I’d sell sponges and drink limoncello!

I have nothing to say about this.

Cool kitchsy stuff from a gift shop.

Further evidence to support my theory of Florida as a giant wildlife preserve… and the people are just food!

Ahahahahaha!

I was feeling all, like, artsy and stuff, soo….

Baton Bob

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Okay, so like 10 years ago, I was walking to class in downtown Atlanta (I went to school at Georgia State University), and as I was crossing Peachtree Street to head into my classroom, I spied the most peculiar sight: a grown a$$ man marching and dancing down the street, head held high, wearing sunglasses, a tutu and marching band boots (you know the ones I’m talking about, that the baton girls wore), swinging a baton and blowing a whistle. It was crazy, and slightly exhilarating to see this random sight in the middle of a very blah school day. I remember texting friends about what I’d seen – keep in mind, TEXTING at that time was on a alphanumberic keyboard and took a lot of time. Obviously I really wanted to share what I saw.

 

It wasn’t until three days ago (as in 2012!!!) that the identity of this baton-twirling man was Baton Bob.

I had no idea who Baton Bob was until I was looking at one of my favorite blogs When In Atl (it’s the best place for keeping up with my hometown hilarity) and they posted up an article about Baton Bob getting harrassed.

Suddenly it all clicked. I remember Baton Bob! Omigosh, by my recollection he’s been marching and whistling and twirling his baton faithfully through the streets of Atlanta for over TEN YEARS. Amazing that it’s the same guy! To think that I remembered him from all these years. The sight of his one-man parade mesmerized me so much that day; I can still remember it like it just happened.

I’m saddened that someone went as far as to threaten his life, just because they didn’t care for his “lifestyle”. Who gives a flying fart in space about his “lifestyle”?? So what… he’s a little left of center.  We all are (granted, he more than most). The man gets joy out of performing in the streets, why exert the energy and negativity to threaten to kill or hurt him? I’m constantly surprised by the number of douches the rest of us are forced to come into contact with every day. How does his behavior afect you? He’s not harming himself or anyone else. I can personally state that seeing him brought a little joy back into my day that day. He’s like an effing Santa Claus, spreading joy. Who would want to kill Santa Claus?? douches.

What would Christmas have been like if Santa Claus delivered your presents in THIS outfit? Woudl there have been disco music involved? Just asking.

 

What happened to the Southern adage, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all”?  Another favorite of mine was “Bless your heart”, which is used when you don’t know what to say, or you think the person’s an idiot. Typically this is said inconjunction with another statement and often behind the person’s back. Southerners are NOT very confrontational. Which is why I’m shocked that this ignunt fool got all up in Baton Bob’s grill. How mad must he have been?

 

Granted, we might believe in Southern Hospitality, bit there’s always just a pinch of crazy in that mint julep.

  

I mean, are you just that angry and bitter that not everyone falls in with your description of “normal”? Did someone pee in your cheerios when you woke up this morning and that made you into the cranky, self-righteous TOOLBAG who think’s it’s your God-given mission to rid the city of those you deem unacceptable? Or are you just mad that SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE is having… (Lord help us all)… FUN???? Puh-lease. get a grip. Better yet, get a hobby. I’d suggest baton-twirling, but I bet you won’t be as good at it as Baton Bob.

 

Hell, I wish I had the guts to parade down the street with a fricking baton and march to the beat of my own drummer. If someone tried to tell me I was wrong for doing it, I’d probably throw one of my marching band boots at them. Probably not right to answer hate with violence, but I bet they couldn’t fus as much if their mouth was swollen shut.

 

Pretending to wave at my subjects while walking the streets of Disney’s Animal Kingdom is about as close as I’ll get to pulling a Baton Bob. Unless alcohol is involved.

 

I think one of the number one problems we have these days is the number of people that get personally involved in $hit that’s none of their business (example: other people’s uteruses, but don’t get me started) and don’t get involved in enough stuff that’s everyone’s business (i.e., voting, community work, education, the arts).

I’m glad to hear that people are supporting Baton Bob, though. It reminds me alittle of the drama that’s going on with the bus monitor that got harrassed by a douche canoe of $hitty students. Clearly those boys lacked any type of home training. My mom would have whupped my a$$ from sunup to sundown if I’d done something as atrocious as this. After reading another one of my favorite blogs, Angrivated, he mentions that people stood behind her so firmly that they raised enough money to not only send her on vacation but let her retire. Kudos!

Even though I got an update on Baton Bob because someone threatened, it was nice to hear that he’s still alive and high-stepping, bringing a little mirth to the merry citizens of downtown Atlanta. I admire his resilient soul. How about a bit fist (baton?) pump in the air for Baton Bob!!!

 

Now if only I can find out about the whereabouts of the sausage man… this dude that used to standon the street corner near my high school, wearing sickeningly tight bike shorts. Then the circle will be complete.