The Upper Room

Take a minute and compose a list.  Look into the depths of your soul and think of the people in the public eye that bother you the most.  Now think about open-palm slapping them right in the face.  I’m not talking about the Hollywood style, silent-film-playboy-tries-to-sneak-in-a-kiss-before-girl-boards-a-plane-and-gets-slapped slap (as in the below slap compilation), or even the Looney-Tunes glove slap. 

What I’m talking about is the open-hand-face-palm:angry-the-dye-turned-my-hair-a-shade-of-blonde-that-would-make-Snooki-prematurely-birth-her-bad-idea-belly-biscuit:furious-the-cameras-caught-me-in-my-blackie-tighties:standing-6-feet-5-inches-tall-with-an-HGH-cocktail-induced-misplaced-machismo:grew-up-without-a-mama:no-sensitive-side:your-nose-is-a-basketball-to-me slap.  Now go read that sentence again.  **Disclaimer** This paragraph will make no sense if you do not watch the below video.  **Double Disclaimer** Sasquatch drops an H-E-double hockey sticks in the video, so sensitive ears take caution.    

Now that you know the genre of slap I am referencing, get back to your list.  I am interested in the top 5 people you would be interested in open palm slapping.  Still can’t picture yourself the kind of person to let somebody sniff your palm?  Let me establish another thing.  You’re able to do this hanging out of a second story window with absolutely no legal repercussions.  Shut the cap on your moral compass and consider this a benefit to society.  It’s not like you’re eradicating their existence… you’re just bringing them back down to earth.  To keep us grounded in this exercise (and to prevent a hypothetical world in which everyone is walking around slapping everyone just because) I propose this idea with a second story window or upper room so there is still the chance the person can get you, but you have a significant competitive advantage (like Ray Lewis drinking deer antler spray) ((read today’s news if that doesn’t make sense to you)).  All that being said I have compiled my list and the justification thereof below.   This list is not in order.  Kudos if you are able to appropriately order your list; I could not.

Why Toby is how Toby is.

      1.        Toby Keith:  The only thing I have in common with Toby Keith is that we both love America and country music.  But Toby Keith is one of the prominent reasons that country-haters loathe country music.  With songs about frat parties and freedom, Toby has had the most successful career in the business recycling themes in the most redneck manner possible.  And it’s safe, because if you don’t like Toby Keith, you must not like America (dripping with sarcasm).  Furthermore, when Toby sings there is a guttural/throat-manufactured vibrato that makes me want to… well… open palm slap him across the mouth.

     

Paul's Koala Impression

      2.       Kevin Garnett/Paul Pierce:  This duo has been haunting my sports world in an unforgivable way since 2008.  When my beloved Atlanta Hawks met the Boston Celtics in the first round of the NBA playoffs in 2008, so was born my deep disdain for these 2 clowns.  A quick youtube search for KG reveals his antics as every other video contains the words ‘cheap shot’.  He looks like a 7 foot tall billy goat, and I may have to utilize a third story window to slap him in the face.  I cannot argue against the skill level of either of these 2 dudes, so I spend time whining about the way they execute their game.  On that note, Paul Pierce is unreasonably clutch, but I want to injure him because he believes his every drive to the basket merits him a foul call.  Seriously Paul, should I get a trophy every time I step foot on a little league baseball field?  POW!!!  Right in the kissa…

Ew...

      3.       Nicki Minaj:  What is this creature?  I would appreciate descriptors on the following: gender, race (not even black or white, but human or marsian), religion (as she [it] makes it very clear what religion she [it] is not, and asexuality.  Perhaps most important is the last, because the future of our society may hinge on this critter necessitating the sexual attraction of another.  We can hang our hats on this not occurring.  If asexual, our existence may depend on Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones, Will smith and the “Up yours, alien a-hole” guy from Independence Day, or Sigourney Weaver.  Even with these players, I don’t like our odds.   

   

Uncanny.

      4.     [Disbelieving] Joe Biden:  Political preferences aside, I’ve never felt more like I was being swindled by a used car salesman than when watching Joe Biden debate Paul Ryan.  Not even when I was once swindled by a used car salesman.  The Joe Biden of the majority of the year, the one who looks mad as a hornet, does not merit a slap in the mouth in my opinion.  The Joe Biden mid debate, when caught in the disbelief of even having to square off with someone as sexy as Paul Ryan, deserves said slap in the face complete with follow through.  And he looks like Jack Nicholson as the Joker in Batman… 

Fraudulent girlfriend, fraudulent respect.

      5.  Manti Te'o:  This may have not been the case a few short weeks ago.  As the story unfolds of Manti and his imaginary girlfriend, I am increasingly irritated by the mere mentioning of his name.  I am partly biased because I do believe Manti's tall tale was a direct influence in his earning various awards when there were more deserving dawgs (Alec Ogletree and Jarvis Jones).  Similarly, I think Alabama exposed Te'o for what he truly is... (cue Arnold voice) a girly man... a choir boy...  So whatever the reason may be, whether his bullfrog look, his always being lei'd, or the way he says "Far from it...", Te'o made the list. 

Hobby Lobby

I have always wanted to have a cool hobby.  You know… something that gives people a reason to put me in a box, but is just rare enough to render those people incapable of putting me in a box.  Most hobbies change other people’s perceptions of the hobbyist.  If I told you I play guitar, a series of things would go through your head.  First, you would probably think, “Everyone and their grandma plays guitar” which would be an accurate assessment.  Then you would probably think, “What a romantic.  I bet he used to get all the ladies” which is also correct [not correct, and lying does not count as a ‘cool’ hobby].  Irregard, the point is that virtually every hobby invokes a set of preexisting stereotypes or thoughts that are something other than, “Man… that is a cool hobby.”  So I want one of those. 

Well maybe I don't want to be the guy in a suit made of horns...  I once thought I wanted to build wood boats, but I lack carpentry as a skill set, I don’t live next to a lake, and I don’t have a spare garage.  But if I built wood boats, you would have to have more respect for me.  (Does anyone know if I am supposed to use ‘wooden’ as an adjective to modify the boat or is it just ‘wood’?  Not the first time I’ve run across this, believe it or not.)  A series of other hobbies for which I have no preconceptions include playing polo, owning a bizarre or unique pet {See Note 1}, racing legend cars, and oenophilia.  Furthermore, I am not fond of horses which rules out polo.  I have never owned a pet mantis shrimp (but this was not for lack of trying).  I nearly got a chance to drive a Ferrari around the Monte Carlo Grand Prix track in Monaco, but I didn’t.  And I don’t much care for wine.  What is this direct correlation with being wealthy and having hobbies I think are cool, anyway?  Additionally, why did I just negate my whole argument by assuming one must be rich to have all these as hobbies?  

So I guess I need to embrace the somewhat mundaneness of my hobbies and make them sound awesome.  I began to contemplate which of my hobbies I would chronicle.  Sports may be my biggest hobby as I (to my own emotional detriment) am a massive fan of all Atlanta sports teams and the Georgia Bulldogs.  However, I have been very intentional not to post about athletics and sports despite the amazing availability over the past week from the Falcons RISE UP to the Falcons DEMISE UP to Manti Te’o’s imaginary girlfriend (which I may be morally obligated to address at a later date).  It is a strategic move as I don’t want to lose any prospective followers who misinterpret my blog as a rant about the tragedy of loving Atlanta sports.  Thus, I came to something everyone seems to enjoy- travel.  Maybe I should’ve been a travel writer ala Rick Steves, but traveling is another hobby that necessitates a good deal of money.  Despite the traditional financial demands of world travel, I was blessed to spend a season of my life working on a cruise ship during which time I unearthed my love for writing about my travels.  Recently, i was fortunate enough to vacate in Mexico, and you're fortunate enough to get to hear about it.  

 Sometime in November of last year I wrote off for vacation the week of December 16th without having any idea of where we would go.  For whatever reason, deciding where to go was the most challenging decision we had faced in our marriage.  Think: "What are you feeling for dinner tonight?" on steroids.  We tossed out everything from San Diego and Costa Rica to NYC and Chicago.  I have been to Chicago in February so you would think I would know better than to go to Chicago in December.  Perhaps blinded by the idea of the Magnificent Mile decked out with Christmas decor, the scale was certainly leaning toward the windy city.  One afternoon around Thanksgiving, I was on the phone with one of my soul mates, Justin Kimmel, (yes... I have multiple soul mates) and we discovered Justin and I had the same vacation week.  Two people in the world have the persuasive power to talk me into doing something I had not planned or have no intention/desire to do, [like tear a bunny in half or engage in fisticuffs with a gaggle of nuns] and those two people are Justin Kimmel and Luke McFadden (another college roomie).  The next thing I knew, I was trying to talk my wife into going to Cancun with the Kimmels.  She obliged.  And when Amanda decides on something where money must be spent, she gets on board.  I am not certain, but I am marginally confident the country of Mexico paid us to vacation there because of the deals Amanda found online.  



This is another of my college roommates, B.O,
dancing so hard his knees began to sweat.  This
image is special as it documents the setting of the
bar.  You aren't hot unless your knees are sweating.



 So December 16th rolled around and we boarded Wing-and-a-Prayer Airlines on our all expense already paid, all-inclusive vacation.  We somehow made it safely.  Better yet, we only spent $10 the entire time we were down in Mexico.  We gave a 5 to the driver for getting us to the resort and not selling us to the cartel, and we gave another 5 to the driver for getting us back to the airport with the same conditions.  The resort we stayed at was Dreams Riviera Cancun and it was the most beautiful resort I have been to of the two resorts I have been to.  Amanda and I went to an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica on our honeymoon in May, and it was so humid my knees sweat.  (It takes a lot to make one's knees sweat.)  But the weather in Cancun in December was flawless.  Highs in the high 80s and lows in the low 70s.



I am not a fan of sand.  I like the idea of the sand and the sun, but generally speaking I would be content at the beach if AstroTurf disappeared into the water and I didn't have to get coated with a layer of gritty particulate on my way back to refuge.  This resort had a beach, then a boardwalk, then a 'rinse off' area, then the poolside, and I could have gone the full week without ever getting sand on my feet.  No doubt an upper tier of paradise.  I spent a good portion of the week under the shade of an umbrella doing a crossword puzzle.  I fancy myself a renaissance man and may have been the only cruciverbalist to finish a crossword and follow it up with a mojito at the swim up bar.  And then I converted Justin who, since vacation, has sent me pictures of at least 2 crossword books he has either purchased or was given at Christmas.   



This is the swim up bar at which I spent
most of my time exposed to the sun and probably
ingested the Crackenseed in a daiquiri.



I couldn't have imagined a more relaxing and enjoyable vacation.  It was awesome being there with another couple, and we often spied envious looks from silly honeymooners wishing they could have booked dinner for 4 rather than 2.  And speaking of dinner... The food at this joint was divine.  There was one marginal hiccup in my perfect vacation where I must have consumed ice or water implanted with a Crackenseed that implanted in my belly, released, and woke me up at 5 in the morning forcing me to call on the help of Lord Pepto intermittently for the last half of the week.  I consumed a lot of quality bread, bottled water, tums, and humility and eventually kicked the little Montezuma hate-baby inside me.  But the resort and vacation was just that good that I was able to mentally overcome and have an incredible week.  Things I would endorse following this vacation include: Cancun in December, Dreams Riviera Cancun, pools, French cuisine, not drinking the water, Immodium AD.           



{Notes:}

1.  In college, the boys and I had a fuzzy caterpillar named Ratzinger that lived in our colander.  The last time we saw Ratzinger was the first time we went to make spaghetti, but I guess that counts as having owned a unique pet. 

Baby Ben Roethlisberger

I promised sports.  I promised controversy.  I promised current events.  Well ladies and gentlemen, I bring you all three in a single photograph.  If a picture is worth a thousand words, this picture accompanied by a thousand words ought be worth a thousand dollars.  The world needs to see this.  For those of you who have not yet graced us with your presence, I'll supply the back story.  Amanda (my wife) ((this is the last time I'll mention that Amanda is my wife, so if you don't know me personally, try to follow along)) and I bought a house in Avondale Estates, GA.  For those of you who don't know Avondale, it is just east of Decatur and credited as the oldest planned community in America.

We bought our house from a couple spectacularly nice gentlemen whom (for the sake of identity protection) we'll call Basil and Sage.  They were originally from Boston, but moved to AE for Basil's work.  It so happened that Basil was a lumberjack who traveled a great deal to the Pacific Northwest or somewhere overrun with hardwoods.  Meanwhile, Sage occupied his time by staying home and doing ruggedly masculine tasks around the house like sanding things down to virtual nonexistence and recreating them with wood filler and homemade paint mixed of spit, sweat, and armpit hair.  At some point, Sage returned home from a horseback trip to Smith's Ace Hardware and noticed that Basil (temporarily home from lumberjacking yet still clad in flannel and Wranglers) had framed out a section of the wall of the master bedroom with left over trim and began painting the masterpiece below directly onto the wall!  (This is written in bold letters because I simply can't stress enough that the painting is seemingly forever plastered to the wall like hieroglyphics in the burial room of an Egyptian pyramid.)  Basil understands, much like myself, that the true way to a woman's heart is with the arts like painting, writing, and chocolate.  Sage however, did not appreciate the explicit nature of Basil's nude beauty and requested that he do something to cover her 'are[ol]a'.  I can't say for sure as I only received this story second-hand from Sage on a trip to my soon-to-be house to get last minute instruction on the landscape lighting (not a euphemism), but it seems the opposition gave Basil the greatest inspiration.  Basil decided to appease Sage by bringing in a reference to the NFL, but their hometown leader Tom Brady was simply too feminine.  Basil went to sleep to brainstorm.  When Basil awoke, inspired by the cold steel of his pillow case, he begin the chef d'oeuvre that would develop into Baby Ben Roethlisberger.      

Madonna with Child (not the singer)

As I'm no art history buff, I will spare y'all my critique.  I am really impressed by the painting and several other paintings Basil left us.  In fact, Basil left us four beautiful paintings above the fireplace as a 'housewarming' present.  In doing this, Basil effectively saved me dozens of hours of driving around town to various Kirklands and Homegoods stores trying to find what exactly to put up in that space.  Subsequently, Basil saved me another 10 hours of trying to hang whatever we found, $400 for that and a ladder, and about $7 for the bottle of Ibuprofen I would need to shield my synapses from the pain of my broken ankle and the shame of falling off said ladder.  See below for a photo of the aforementioned paintings.  

The Four Seasons

In case you were wondering, I'm keeping the painting even though the breastfeeding Madonna casts a gaze across my bed while I slumber.  It's an original piece of art, people!

Exordium

For at least 5 years of my life people have been telling me I missed my calling and I should have been a writer.  Frankly, I may have teetered with the idea more thoroughly if I was aware of the avenues of income for people who write and aren't under the [inter]national eye.  Honestly, I consider myself a humble wordsmith- a communicator capable of twisting words and phrases to get my point across.  Thus, I write very much like I talk.  **Disclaimer** Scholars beware.  You will certainly hate me in 2 blogs +/- 1.  Mrs. Wozniak (my high school English teacher), if you ever read this, it's not your fault.  If any of you who are reading this have never talked to me or read my writing, it may prove offensive.  Below I list a few additional explanations of my literary quirks in an attempt to prepare you for what you may be entering into ('into' is a preposition and prepositions are not words to end sentences with). 

Style:  I tend to carry on in a non-traditional grammatical structure shades of Cormac McCarthy with much disdain for standard and proper punctuation.  Frequently (as you probably noticed above) I use disclaimers.  These generally allow me to escape the confines of simple thought and reach out for the deeper significance within an argument.  They will often prevent you, the reader, from thinking into a tangent and going awry from my communicative intent.  Sometimes my writing reads like a complex algorithm.  Read enough posts and you'll understand.  I love using parentheses to interject ideas within a sentence, and it is not uncommon for me to use double parentheses to modify what was in the previous parentheses.  Follow?  I also overuse ellipses...  Enough about grammar.  I'll just try to keep things interesting with hopes you'll come back for more. 

Rating:  My intent is to keep this blog at a steady PG to PG-13 rating.  I will try to keep my highly offensive substitute letters and marginally inappropriate hyperbolic similes/metaphors to a minimum.  Occasionally I will push the envelope to keep things fresh, and because (as my wife Amanda will tell you) I have no filter.  I would simply argue if it were an air filter for your home furnace, it would be the Sam's Club generic brand, $20 filter pack of 50 rather than the $15 each 3M antimicrobial, bug zapping, dust stopping kind that catches your pet hair, stretches it out, weaves it, and donates it to Locks of Love.  Just think... you're getting more for your money (where time=money). 

Themes:  Much like this initial post establishing the background, framework, and reason for this blog, it will likely have a tendency to transcend all genres.  Topics may include but are not limited to sports, metapolitics, faith, quasi politics, Care Bears, life, dog ownership, BM's, how Nickelodeon is not what it used to be, how to hold the media accountable, current events, marriage, Georgia Bulldogs, work incidents, magic tricks, manliness, how clowns should be outlawed if guns are outlawed, and other various rants.  I will occasionally be serious and I will mostly be satirical. 

A few suggestions: 

1.  I disbosom- you may see me use the dictionary.com word of the day in a post.  I request you be couthie and not advert to challenge the breadth of my vocabulary.  A new word a day keeps the rebro[a]bate[d].  <---Mind. Blown.   

2.  Leave me feedback.  The last time I did any extensive writing in my specific [grammatically abusive] tone was when I worked on a cruise ship and travelled the Mighty Med.  Feedback kept me going and inspired me for more posts.  You are more than welcome to leave me suggestions of things you would like to see me ponder. 

I have no idea with what frequency I'll be able to keep this up, but I look forward to it nonetheless.  I hope you all enjoy.