It's Not a Toomer

I write lots of trivia questions. Sometimes they're easy, sometimes they're not. Many times especially during football season, they're about football. I know how ladies love to read about football so that's what today's blog is about. Kinda. Sorta.

If you have at least a toe in the water in the world of news, you know that the following topics have been dominating the news in the past week or so:

- Egypt

- Bahrain

- Toomer's Corner oak trees at Auburn University.

One of those things is not like the other. And at least one of them is not a tumor Toomer.

So to bring you up to speed in case you don't watch TV or if you don't ever read the news at work (like I do on both accounts), some dude named Al from Dadeville, Alabama, decided that it would be a good idea to poison some trees on Auburn's campus. Oops. Wrong link. Here's the right one. Here comes the snark...

I know absolutely nothing about Auburn's campus. Hell, you could have told me it was built on a swamp of dirt and unicorn blood and I might have believed you for a split second. I had no idea that these trees were so tied in to a tradition. Really nothing screams "CELEBRATE!" quite like T-P-ing. But it's the south and being born and raised in Big Ten country and transplanting to Nashville, I've had to adapt to lots of things that just don't make any sense to me: like getting married while you're in college and eating grits. Neither of which I support but that's neither here nor there. Back to my story about trees.

So this dude poisoned some trees. I get it. You don't mess with someone else's traditions. Don't kill trees. Don't be an asshole. Life's pretty simple, really. I learned the "don't kill trees" lesson when I was about 5 years old and decided that taking a hatchet to a tree on the outskirts of my parents' yard was a good idea. Turns out, it's not. I got an ass-whoopin' and a well-deserved one at that. Maybe this Al from Dadeville didn't get his ass whooped enough as a kid. Maybe he got it whooped too much. I don't know. I'm not a dad.

What pisses me off (and I know that's what you were all waiting for) is the amount of coverage

that this has gotten. It's received about 1436% of the coverage that it's gotten and, really, deserves. Seriously, folks. Trees. Life is all about perspective. And, yea, it's pretty damn important even if you don't think Asian chicks are hot.

Keep following the story. I'm sure you college football junkies (myself included) will be following this story for the next year and of course into this upcoming season. And when one of your great friends may very well be the world's biggest Alabama fan, you're bound to hear about it for a while.

Anyway, as I was poking around on facebook [see what I did there?] this morning, I came across this group. I'm not going to join it. It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't care, if that makes any sense. Anyway, in scrolling through the comments and wall and whateverthehellit'scalled, I saw this comment:

I like Jesus and all but I don't know if he cares about the Toomer's Corner trees that much. Also, what are these folks praying for? That the trees are going to wake up? If that happens, I'm running the other way. Or I'm gonna pick up that hatchet from 26 years ago and go down swinging. C'mon folks.

The Weather Is The Time's End! Revelations!

On my way home from work yesterday evening (5 o'clock conference calls are not nearly as fun as they sound, people), I was driving in the same weather that everyone else was in. Buses in the ditch? Sure. People abandoning their cars in the middle of the road? Absolutely. Me getting on my phone and calling up Sean to see if he wanted to go to the bar to watch the Wings-Preds game? That's a big "10-4". I was born and raised in Michigan. What do you expect?

I had a few beers, including the incredibly delicious Atwater Vanilla Java Porter which I had never tried until last night, watched the game, and then went home. It was a straight shot down Gallatin Pike which I normally loathe because Gallatin is, I'm convinced, what the road to hell must be like. What, with its stoplights every 97 feet, erratic drivers, and occasional carjackings and all. Last night was not bad, however, as the three inches of massive snowfall kept most people indoors for the evening. All I was thinking about, though, was getting home safely, turning on my Xbox, and playing Fable. Almost anytime magic and swords are involved in anything, I'm in. I did notice that who ever played it on my Xbox last had created a character named "Shit Teeth". I'mnot really sure what that means.

As I turned off my game long about 11something last night, I rolled over and posted a tweet. Why? Well, because everything I say on twitter is important. Why anyone follows me on that thing blows my mind. If I were an internerd, I

would find a program to find how many how many of my tweets are related to New Zealand and/or Lord of the Rings. Not that I need any help with that. Or anything. Oh... My tweet from last night read "Nashville seasons: Flood, Hell, Autumn, Blizzard." Which makes sense when you think about it. I should have turned my phone off last night because it went "ting, ting" for the next 10 hours. Why? 'Cause of this:

Who in the world thinks what I have to say is worth re-broadcasting to the rest of the world? Apparently 36 people. Oh... And then there are the new followers. I can just see them clicking "unfollow" as soon as I start posting about The Hobbit. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

Oh MAI Gosh

I am now going to list my five favorite things about dancing in public:
1.) Not dancing in public.
2.) Not dancing, well, at all.
3.) Going home from a place where people have been trying unsuccessfully to get me out on the dance floor [which, I'm frankly surprised to find out is two words] the whole evening.
4.) Wondering why the hell everyone seems to be drinking Ketel One and Redbulls.
5.) A bunch of Cougars going "Wooooo!!!!"

So last night, in the interest of me being a good sport, I went to a place called MAI which claims it's in the Gulch. First of all, it's not. It's across the street from 12th and Porter and until last night I had never heard of anyone claiming that that part of town is the Gulch. It's near the Gulch. But that's like saying I live at Opry Mills because it's down the street. See how I'm not a liar, MAI?

We (the A Village of Flowers family, that is) were celebrating Dora who is moving to New York City soonishly and will be missed dearly and since she wanted to go to MAI, we went to MAI. I'm not sure if that's how it's supposed to be written or if that's just how it's stylized but I'm already one-third of the way through the blog and I'm not going to change it. I mean, if everyone came out to 3Crow for my birthday party that I don't really remember last year, the very least that I can do is reciprocate. Why? 'Cause I'm a hell of a guy, that's why.

I convinced my roommate Josiah* to come with me. He's been to MAI before and if I happened to be the only person there that I knew, I didn't want to be attacked by Cougars who are trained to pounce on young looking single prey. Come on. One dude against a pack of wild Cougars? No chance. At all. Thankfully, everyone else showed up. And when I say "everyone" I mean "EVERYONE". The place went from dead empty to tenfinity people in the span of about 20 minutes. And all tenfinity people were big fans of dressing way nicer than me and I was wearing my nice long sleeve henley shirt, too. Basically, this was my first real dance club experience. Not too shabby at the age of 30 that I had managed to avoid it for that long.

Keeping in mind my lack of dancing skills ability enjoyment, I told everyone that if I had nine more glasses of whiskey, I would get out on the dance floor. Everyone knew this wasn't going to happen so I was safe. The lack of drinks, however, did not stop Andy.

Maybe it was the sweet leather jacket? Doubtful. Maybe it was the beanie cap? Unlikely. Maybe he pregamed? That's probably it.

What's the point of this here blog entry? It's ultimately a review of MAI from the perspective of someone who doesn't like to dance or get attacked by the Pre-Post-Menopausal crowd. If you're not into either one of those things or, in the interest of full disclosure, spending $8.50 for a pour of whiskey, I can sum it up in one word:

DON'T

Then again, go for it. You might just like it. Like Andy.

*Josiah - enjoy the fame that comes with this shout out. The rewards are great, my friend. Great.

Ophiucus

A large part of my day involves me doing research on the internet. I don't mean fun research. I mean research like learning the difference between what a clinical manager does and what an administrator does [the answer is "not much"]. Luckily, thanks to the business class internet that I get at my desk, I get to download things like the Birth soundtrack by Alexandre Desplat (thanks for the recommendation, JT) at lightning speeds. Speeds? Plural? Sure.

One would think that with all the time that I do spend in front of my computer that by the end of the day the last thing that I would want to do would be to come home and sit in front of, well, my computer. Since I don't have a typewriter and, let's face it, I don't really have a place to put it and I have a desire to write pretty much all of the time, I break out the laptop and off I go. That is if I'm not remaining bitter about being told that I was 4 inches too tall to be an extra in The Hobbit and ultimately realizing that the only way I could get 4 inches shorter would be to hack off my feet or the top of my head which, unfortunately, would make me largely unfilmable. It is too a word.

Imagine my surprise when I got home this evening to find the news that Zodiac signs were changing and that a new sign called Ophiucus has suddenly entered the world. You know what I know about the Zodiac signs? Nothing. I actually had to look mine up. It's Cancer. And from what the interweb tells me (and, let's face it, I believe everything I read on the internet) it only applies to people born in 2009 or later. I bet Justin Bieber is fucking pissed that he's gonna have to get a new set custom embroidered of Osh Kosh B'Gosh overalls 'cause he's no longer a Pisces. He's like, what? 14 or 15 months old now? Can one year olds be pissed? They can release hit records and star in biopics so why not? Really, I just wrote about The Biebs so I'd get some more traffic on this here post. By the way, how does he get his hair to grow sideways like that?

Bet you didn't think that you'd read about Alexandre Desplat and The Biebs in the same blog today, did you?

This new Zodiac actually scares me for a few reasons. First: the potential return of The Zodiac Killer. You wanna talk about some scary shit? Yeah... That's some scary shit. In addition to the potential return of a mass murder, I am going to make a prediction. Yes, a major prediction. The kind of prediction that would make Harvey Weinstein take notice. He's a major film producer. I know you're not clicking on these links anyway. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the sequel to the original

Zodiac. I'm gonna call it Zodiac 2: Oh, Fyuck Us... He's Back! I wonder if Jake Swift Gyllenhaal would be up for it? I bet he would. He's done pretty well in the last few years, starring in Desert Sword Adventure Movie and a movie that I haven't yet seen but based on it's title, I'm assuming that it's about African American friends. Personally, I think he's just floating by on looks alone. Then again, what do I know?

Unless you're the psychic at Mystic Minds just down the street from my house, this news probably won't affect you. I just had nothing better to write about and I had to do something while drinking this beer.

Ted Williams

In the past few days, The Man with the Golden Voice (a guy named Ted Williams) video has started to circulate the internet. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then you need to watch this and watch it now:

And when I say "past few days" I literally mean since about Monday or so. It's a quick mover, that internet. It's even quicker for me now that I don't have to steal it from my neighbor (thank you anonymous 'linksys' user as the past year and a half were so good to me).

This man has a gift. Seriously. My voice sounds like I did when I was 14. It never really dropped after cracking for two straight years. You ladies into me yet? A blog about a homeless dude and a guy whose voice never really dropped. Yeah, I thought so. But back to the 'feel good' story...

I was listening to ESPN radio yesterday morning after having seen this video the day before and heard some fantastic news: that the much maligned Cleveland Cavaliers (they're that team that that LeBron dude used to play for)* have offered Ted Williams a job and a house. How amazing is that?! Most of the times, when it comes to homeless people, I'm a jerk. I don't give 'em money. I don't by copies of The Contributor. I respond with "Naw, dude... Lemme ask you a question." when someone starts out with "Hey, lemme ask you a question."

Oh... and today he was reunited with his mom: a 92-year old woman living in Brooklyn, NY, that he has been out of contact for several years.

I don't feel convicted very often -- largely because that word alone makes me think of my days attending Acquire the Fire youth conventions and seeing the Newsboys (remember them?) play. It's nice when the world gives something back to someone. Even if he does look like Teen Wolf Obama.

Look at what people can do.

*Major props to me for figuring out how to use the word "that" three times in one parenthetical phrase.

A Door for Humans

I was delivering flowers yesterday afternoon. Nothing out of the ordinary. Actually, I was delivering a gift basket to a doctor at Two Rivers Veterinary Clinic on Old Lebanon Road on the north east side of town but that doesn't matter. The gift basket part not the Two Rivers Veterinary Clinic part. That does matter.

Hell. Lemme try that again.

So I was delivering a gift basket to a vet's office yesterday. Not a veteran's office, a veterinarian's office. You know what? I'm just gonna start drinking right now. Maybe that'll help.

Okay... Third time's a charm. Yesterday afternoon I was delivering a gift basket to a veterinary clinic (I DID IT!). I pulled up to the front door in the behemoth that is our delivery van and parked squarely in the "NO PARKING" zone. I have special privileges, that's why. I got out of the van, walked around the back of the vehicle, and opened the side door. There was the arrangement gift basket in all its glory. I picked it up, assed the door shut, and walked in.

Upon entering, I was met with a set of two doors: one to the left that read "Dogs" and one to the right that red "Cats". Seeing as that I had a basketful of edible goodies (read: not underwear), I used my quick flower delivery man thinking and deduced that of the two doors, the one that read "Cats" would be less likely to have animals in that want to eat all of the delectables that I was carrying. I also guessed that there probably was no catnip in said gift basket. Also, I had to get into the office itself.

This is the conversation that I had with the front desk administrator lady:

Me: "Hi!"

Front desk administrator lady: "Hi! OHMYGOSHTHATISGORGEOUS!"

Me: "Awesome! Yeah, this is for Dr. Schlabach."

Front desk administrator lady: "Oh, I can take it to him."

Me: "Great, thanks. I hope it's okay."

Front desk administrator lady: "You hope what's okay?"

Me: "Well, I saw a door for 'Dogs' and a door for 'Cats' but I didn't see a door that read 'Humans'. I'm not in trouble, am I?"

Front desk administrator lady: [silence]

Me: "Have a good one!"

And this was after me meeting someone at Vanderbilt Hospital named Cookie Warpool. I didn't think my day was going to get any better after that but boy was I wrong...

I got the most stuff! I won Xmas!

Every year about this time I get an email from my dad asking me what I want for Christmas. Because a large part of me is and will perpetually be eight and a half years old, I usually ask for toys. Two years ago, for example, I asked for Mario Kart Wii. My dad asked something to the effect of "What the hell is that?" I told him to simply go into Best Buy, find a dude with a blue shirt and a pair of khaki pants on, hold out your arms and pretend like your driving a steering wheel, and say "My 28 year old son wants Mario Kart Wii." Really, I just wanted the mental image of my dad doing that in a store more than anything else. By the way, Mario Kart Wii has NOT disappointed. My dad has yet to tell me whether he acted like he was driving when he asked the dude at Best Buy for help. I like to think he did.

Being a bit of a bah humbugger, I haven't cared much for Christmas for the past several years. I like getting out of town for a bit. I like cookies. I like seeing, well, some of the family. I like going downtown to The Torch and getting my annual TorchBurger and pints of Guinness for $2.75 (or whatever it is they cost now). I don't like 97.46% of Christmas music. The only two Christmas tunes that I will voluntarily listen to are "Fairytale of New York" by The Pogues (or whoever happens to be covering it) and "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carrey. Shut your damn mouth. Don't act like you don't like that song, too. I don't like the security at the airport. I don't like the great bloody wind tunnel that is the arrivals gate of Detroit Metro Airport -- it's like they said "Hell, let's figure out a way to make it even colder." If I were interested enough, I would have made the word "colder" appear in blue letters but I'm pretty lazy at the moment and this football trivia set that I have been procrastinating on all week isn't going to write itself.

This is, however, the season of wishes and with that in mind and my dad's email hitting my inbox this afternoon, I sent him my Christmas wishlist this evening. It went something exactly like this:

Dad,

Here's my Christmas wish list:

-- A gift certificate to zappos.com -- I'd like to buy a nice pair of running shoes. Link: http://www.zappos.com/gift-certificate

-- A gift certificate to black 13 tattoo parlor here in Nashville -- Let's face it, i'm going to get tattooed anyway. Link: http://black13tattoo.zamstores.com/cat/gift-cards-479.htm

-- A bottle of fine scotch. Any reputable liquor store should be able to help you out with this one. I'm partial to anything from the Speyside region of Scotland. :)

-- A jacket that falls somewhere in between the lines of "I wanna be cool" and "I really can't be because I like 'Lord of the Rings' too much." Maybe some sort of sport coat. Black or heather grey, preferably.

-- Eric to do his rendition of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=104cdcySpEs

-- Justin Bieber to fall off a tall building. I know you probably don't know who he is but imagine a modern Canadian version of Donny Osmond and you're in the ballpark. If you can make this happen, I don't think I'd need any of the other wishes on this list.

After that, just kind of let your imagination run wild.

See ya in a few weeks,

Stephen

I will report back to you, dear readers, with the results of my haul. Hopefully, I'll post between now and then because I know how Nick gets into such a tizzy when I don't post often enough.

Now, I bet that some of you probably glossed over that list. If you did, then you missed this gem. It's funny because the aforementioned Eric is my younger, Korean brother.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.