Mr. Pibb and Red Vines equals crazy delicious!

So, I was sitting at my desk today at work in downtown Tupelo, and a ruddy man in a light green tank top and cut-off denim shorts walked by my window and hocked a loogie right outside it! Um, no thanks, buddy. ('A "loogie" is a slang expression used in North America to refer to a mass of sputum that is ejected from the mouth after being expelled from the throat of a person with nasal congestion. The expression "hocking a loogie" refers to expelling the phlegm in an obviously noisy manner involving violent vibrations of the uvular, producing a low, guttural, rumbling sound.' Thank you, Wikipedia. Also, according to Wikipedia, the loogie is cousin to the "snot rocket.") I have never been a hocker. Even when a person is sick, and others believe he or she should just "cough it up," I disagree. It's gross. I'd rather just swallow it and allow it to leave my body in its own way, in its own time. My grandmother on my dad's side (she passed away a few years ago and is not the grandmother who raised me, though I do love her dearly) used to open the car door at stoplights and hock loogies whenever she felt the need. That definitely did not get passed down to me. No, siree, Mama Lynn.

Also, if you are like me, you have been a bit disappointed since the SNL glory days of Will Ferrell, Cheri Oteri, Molly Shannon, Mike Meyers, etc. I have watched it a few times since then, and I have been pretty bored--nay, saddened. However, Andy Sandberg writes some funny short films and Chris Parnell is pretty hilarious, too. So, there is some redemption. My favorite one is called Lazy Sunday. It's not a new one, but I just love it. Keep the Sabbath, fools.

No, your eyes are not deceiving you.

That’s right. I have a tan. I went to the beach last week with 3 pretty cool ladies [See previous blog.]. It was wonderfully relaxing. The beach is undeniably my favorite place on earth. If Starkville had a beach, it would be paradise. At Orange Beach, we enjoyed great seafood andbasked in the warm sun all day. The sound of the waves lulled us to sleep during the day, and the lush condo kept us fast sleep at night. The love bugs came in full force on a couple of days, which was yucky. But, love bugs need love, too, I guess. Also, the Foley outlet mall was excellent, too. I got some great deals, and I mean GREAT! All in all, it was an almost perfect getaway. As perfect as it gets this side of Heaven. Right? Cheers!

Well, as a Christian, I believe it is good to confess sin. So, here goes: I used to watch Survivor instead of The Office on Thursday nights. I’m sorry! I’m so…sorry. And embarrassed. We used to just watch Survivor at its regular time and then get The Office dvds on Netflix after the season ended. Well, we got season 3 today. As we were watching it and laughing our heads off, I asked Kurt why we ever watched Survivor instead of The Office. Why would we do that?? Crazy! So, I plan to repent now. You know, if Kurt wants to, of course. One of my favorite lines from Michael Scott today was: “There is such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown.”

Also, one of my favorite FRIENDS episodes came on TV today: The One Where Eddie Won’t Go. It’s on season 2. You should see it ASAP. Chandler does some of his best acting in it, and I love the Be Your Own Windkeeper book parts. It’s all so funny!

Another exciting development today is Halo 3 coming out! Kurt went with some guys from the youth group to get it tonight. They are going to hang out at the store till it comes out at midnight and then play it on XBOX Live all night. He will have so much fun. Also, just a word to the girlfriends, fiancées, and wives out there: once a video gamer, ALWAYS a video gamer. Thankfully, I’m one of the few wives who don’t mind. Sometimes I even play video games with Kurt. I do wish we had a Wii. Oh, well. Maybe next time…

By the way, the new Bachelor looks like he has about as much personality as a patch of dead grass.

Oh, the irony!

Oh, the irony!

As I was cleaning my house the other day, I left the television on for some background noise. I heard a woman on a commercial candidly say, “Being careful is important to me, because I have genital herpes.” Hmmmmm…really? Is that right? I repeated it in my head a few times to make sure I heard her correctly. Um, I’m going to go with “no” on that one. I thought, “Ma’am, I’m going to suggest that being careful is, in fact, not as important to you as you might claim…hence, the presence of the STD. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong, but….” There’s another STD commercial that Kurt and I heard once that featured a man saying, “I mean, who has time to take 7 pills a day?” Kurt’s response: “Um, you do, sir. You, with the genital herpes.” [Side note: Neither Kurt nor I carry any infectious diseases. Also, please, no West Point jokes. Kurt and I do, in fact, notice and enjoy commercials other than the ones that advertise STD medications. We really like the Domino’s Oreo Dessert Pizza commercial, and Kurt really likes the Bluebell ice cream commercial that begins: “I remember our old country home…” But not because he remembers his old country home. He just likes to impersonate the singer.]

On a hopefully lighter note (you never know what you’ll run into in Alabama), I’m headed to Orange Beach tomorrow with 3 really fun ladies! Bonnie Hardin (mother of Claire, Sam, Hailey, and Maggie; mother-in-law of Katherine Skinner Hardin), Becky Baxter (mother of Bo, Ben, and Brent; mother-in-law of Lane Napier Baxter, and also “the mouth of Tupelo”), and Barbara Cooper (mother of Kurt; mother-in-law to yours truly). I know what you’re thinking: “Marty, won’t you be the only premenopausal person on the trip?” Yes, in fact, I will. But that will only add to the fun. Allow me to give you a quick profile of these lovely ladies:

Bonnie is one of the most generous people I know. I have never known anyone who serves others better with her time and resources. She decorated my whole house. I had a ton of accessories that I didn’t know where to place, and she made not one, not two, but THREE trips to Tupelo to help me get my house settled. That’s right, totally settled within 4 months of moving. Record timing. She is also always looking out for her friends to make sure their houses look nice as well. In addition, she threw Kurt and me the best engagement party of them all at her house by the pool. She gave us wonderful wedding gifts—notice the “s” on the end of gift. She contributed to our cause while Kurt was in seminary. She’s just a downright good person. I am sure she does many more things to serve God’s kingdom that people don’t see or know about. She is also a marathon shopper. Wear arch supports if you are going shopping with her. You might as well be hiking the AT. Oh yeah, and the condo at Orange Beach is hers, and she invited me to stay!

Becky can be summed up in one word: hilarious. Well, actually, she can’t be. She’s wildly outgoing, a touch crazy, very opinionated, has never met a stranger, knows the dish on everyone in Tupelo, is one of the most caring and sacrificial moms I’ve ever known, and has been a faithful friend to the Cooper family for many years. I absolutely adore this woman. There is never a dull moment when she’s around! I’m definitely looking forward to spending this trip with her. I know I’ll learn a lot…whether I want to or not!

Barbara…oh, Barbara, Barbara, Barbara. Where to begin? Well, she’s the best mother-in-law (I prefer the term “second mom”) a girl could wish for. I know for a fact that some of my friends are jealous that I have her and they don’t. When I came on the scene, Kurt immediately became a subordinate, and she’s treated me like a princess ever since. She is fiercely loyal, an extremely hard worker (She was the best teacher Saltillo high school ever had. She’s retired now.), loved by many (ask all of her former students, Becky being one of them), hated by none, writes novel-length emails in size 16 font in strictly question format, wants to know the scoop on who’s “getting up a case” with whom, and talks on the phone for at least 5 hours a day—mostly either to Bonnie or Becky. She also knows and recites clever little quips and nursery rhymes daily. She is known to be “slap dab burning up” even in subzero temperatures and, when the opportunity arises, she’ll “be suh-lung out!” She is a giver, too. When Kurt and I first started dating, she gave me a gift each time we visited her home. And, one day in the next score or millennium, she’ll be a wonderful grandmother to mine and Kurt’s children. When she dies, she’ll be reincarnated as Nicole Kidman. She's also on Facebook or, as Kurt's dad calls it, "facelift." Here’s a quote from a recent email from Barbara concerning the upcoming beach trip: “I bought a Taboo game today to take to the beach. I am also taking candy corn because it is so delicious and nutritious.”

We’re also going to the Foley outlet mall! I’m going to go to an actual JCrew store, something I’ve only done about 4 times in my 23 years. I know, total loser. Hopefully the next time I write, I’ll be really tan with flowing blonde locks and a whole new wardrobe; so basically, not myself at all.

A Critical Thinking Campout

Lately I have heard a few people lamenting the recent scandal and exposure of the Man vs. Wild show deceiving its viewers. I personally don’t understand why everyone is so stunned by this revelation. Here’s why:

1. It’s REALITY television. Hello??? Reality television is about as far from the truth as you can get. From watching my friends, the Allison family from Starkville, film “Wife Swap”, I saw that the producers of reality television shows will go to great lengths to create illusions about the show’s subject(s) to attract viewers. Do you think that on Survivor they really go a month without eating anything but pineapples and nuts? There are cameramen on site who film the show. They gotta eat lunch, too, and I’m pretty sure it’s closer to McRealFood than what they portray. Ever wondered why they don’t show where the contestants use the bathroom? One word: Port-a-john. (Or should it be 3 hyphenated words?) Don’t get me wrong. I love Survivor, but I know that it is a show where they choose a cast to play roles. Just listen to them talk. It definitely sounds rehearsed. Now, if only they'd let the women shave. Anyway, “reality” television can’t be trusted. It’s sinking sand, folks. Sinking sand.
2. The host of Man vs. Wild is clearly crazy. For starters, his name is Bear. We could spend quite some time on that one alone. Sure, you’ve heard that he is a Christian and a family man; however, the man VOLUNTARILY drinks his own urine!! Christian or not, there are some real issues there that need to be identified and dealt with. Sick. His own urine. Seriously. Also, the show’s premise is unrealistic. Yeah, the next time I go camping in Iceland, I’ll let you know how it felt to gouge out a sheep’s eye and boil it on my shoelace in a hot spring for dinner! C’mon! The most extensive camping trips that occur around here are to Alabama somewhere or hiking the AT. Let me know how your next ordinary weekend adventure goes in Antarctica and how the frozen, raw penguin wing tastes when you gnaw on it VOLUNTARILY for a light afternoon snack. Sure, Bear gets a nice paycheck for holing himself in a makeshift snow cave for the night, but why would anyone endure all of this self-torture for a buck…or lots of them?? It’s just plain silliness. With, perhaps, a dollop of lunacy.

I’ll tell you a good place to test the skills you have learned from this educational TV show: the Buffalo Park in Tupelo, MS. That’s right. It’s less than a mile from my house, and it houses buffalo (obviously), zebra, birds, monkeys, and probably a giraffe or two. You just buy a ticket and spend the whole day there. So, after you have snapped a bird’s neck and roasted it over a flint fire for lunch and ventured into a dark cave with your burning lard flashlight for a trickle of fresh water…all of this done, of course, VOLUNTARILY, you can come spend the night at my house in a clean, well air conditioned place with your very own guest room, shower, and toilet….just like good ole Bear does when the cameras turn off.

Before my soapbox crumbles beneath me, I have a “disbelief addition.” I don’t believe in double dipping. For instance, sharing chips and dip at the Mexican restaurant. I might as well kiss everyone in my dinner party on the mouth as soon as I walk into the restaurant to get the fellowship started…which is obviously the attractiveness of the whole chips and dip affair. You chat each other up while sharing “free” chips and salsa before you order. Oh yes, my friends, it’s a social ploy on behalf of the restaurant owners. They’re not fooling me one bit. Most Mexican restaurants actually have gotten better about giving individual bowls for the dip. However, just to prove to you how strong my convictions are against double dipping, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t even double dip in my own personal salsa bowl. Now that’s loyalty.

My Kind of Funnel

I spent the day in good ole West Point on Saturday. The radio once told me that West Point is “the city with great history and personality.” Well, actually, the radio told Anna D., and she told me. Anyway, somehow I missed that message growing up. But I keep going back, almost yearly, for the Prairie Arts Festival. This shindig takes place annually on the first Saturday of September, which some people call "Labor Day weekend." It’s a time to see people I used to know and decide whether my life is more successful and important than theirs now…er… I mean, it’s a time to catch up with old buddies from high school. This year I decided to capture the experience in the following photos. You see, the Prairie Arts Festival draws all types of people. There are a handful of decent people there, but some really strange-looking folks crawl out of the woodworks for this event.

Exhibit A: Old-timer with a bum leg. But the leg is ok because it’s wrapped in a rebel flag, which has healing powers.



Exhibit B: Super classy BAMA fan. Nuff said. As my friend Carrie Anne pointed out to me, his shirt is hemmed. That means it was intentionally altered to be that length. He didn’t just cut it off. Oh no. He sewed it there. Couldn’t dare let us miss out on that saggy overhang. No, siree.



We’ll call Exhibit C “Old lady club shirt.” Dude, I hope I never find her in the club.



Exhibit D: No you didn’t. (Can I have this many exhibits? Some lawyer tell me, please. Kelvin?). This lady has 3 apparent issues, but her outfit displays that there just might be some on the inside as well…Afro, cut-off jean shorts WITH INTENTIONAL SLITS, and white tennis shoes. Rollin on the river.

Exhibit E: Poor kid. Someone wrote on his nice collared shirt with a Sharpie. A sharpie?! Why ruin a nice shirt like that? It says: "Don't you mess with dis Jr. Policeman." There were an abundance of airbrushed t-shirt stands that would've come in handy...



The real reason I go back to West Point for Prairie Arts Festival isn’t to walk around sizzling in the hot sun, or to window shop for overpriced knick-knacks, or even to fake smile at all my old classmates. It’s to eat a Funnel Cake. Yep. That’s why. It’s the best $5 I spend every year. Every succulent bite of fried batter with powdered sugar sprinkled on top (which, I’m sure I could make at home with some batter mix, a Ziploc bag with the corner cut off, some hot grease, and some powdered sugar) is worth every penny of that $5. I look forward to it because where else will I get one? (I guess I could go to the State Fair in Jackson and get one, but all I can think about are the germs that inhabit all those carnival rides. Hence, I do not attend.) I always wait to get it at lunchtime because
1. I apparently love to wait in line for 45 minutes under the scorching sun & 2. I build it up in my mind for a few hours before I let myself give in to the suspense & 3. Lunchtime is when people normally eat. To show all my admiration for the Funnel Cake, I dedicate this haiku to it:

I love Funnel Cakes.
I’m having a love affair.
Do not interrupt.

And this one…

Hello, Funnel Cake.
I am going to eat you.
Get in my belly.

And this one…

You are just fried bread.
Hot, greasy and sugary.
I don’t care. Come here.

And this one…

You cost me five bucks.
Oh, Medusa of batter.
Hey, no forks allowed.

Kurt likes them, too. And, yes, I gave him a bite. One.

While I’m here, I’d also like to defend my stance on hand sanitizer (Laurette and Kelvin). I do believe it is 99% alcohol and does kill germs. However, it leaves invisible dead germ boogers on your hands that get on your food, which you consume. Ugh. I prefer to wash my hands like this (the way Laurette taught me):
1. Pull down paper towel for availability.
2. Turn on faucet.
3. Lather hands with soap and rinse.
4. Dry hands with paper towel.
5. Turn sink off with paper towel protected hand.
6. Open door with elbow or paper towel protected hand.
7. Hold open door with hiney.
8. Toss paper towel into trashcan.
9. Swish!

All the cleanliness I learned growing up was from Laurette Clark Wolfe. She taught me how to lather a wash cloth, and how to use a payphone – carry rubbing alcohol and cotton balls in your purse so that, when you want to call someone, you can swab and cleanse the phone, keypad, and your own ear. (This was before cell phones, a.k.a., junior high school). I guess the saying should actually read, “Laurette(ness) is next to godliness.”

Cheers.

Utter Disbelief

Since some of my friends have blogs, I wanted to start one of my own as well. I have been saving up certain ideas for a month or so...you know, to have something to write about. Lately I have found myself often saying, "I don't believe in that." So, I decided to make a list of things I don't believe in...you know, to set the tone, if you will. Here goes:

-Hand Sanitizer
-La Sharelle - some white guy in Tupelo who calls the local radio stations and acts like a black lady
-Waking up moist...or what some people call "camping"
-The Notebook.It's a point of pride for me that I've never seen it.
-Email forwards
-Kierra Knightly. Put your chin back in! And stop pursing your lips!

-School shirts that aren't school colors
-Under eye cream. Just doesn't help me.
-40 hour work weeks
-Plastic surgery
-Buying anything at full price
-People who "don't read"
-Alanis Morisette's interpretation of irony
-Pimento and Cheese
-Referring to pregnant women as "preggers"

-Fanny Packs






-Denim shorts
-Women who drive trucks (not suvs...trucks!)
-dog clothes
-padded bras
-Dirty Dancing - what kind of sick jail-bait relationship promotion is that?
-Saying you have an "unspoken" prayer request
-Dipping cookies in milk
-When a couple sits on the same side of the booth/table when they are the only 2 out to dinner
-When a guy is driving a truck and the girl sits in the middle seat next to him instead of on the regular seat by the door where normal people sit
-The following names: Dawn, Misty, Stormy, Sunny...you get the idea
-Sprouts
-The BeeDazzler








-Black fingernail polish
-Vanilla Frosty
-Chic Intuition and Venus Breeze
-Chewable medicine...yuck.
-Pork rinds
-Breakfast burritos
-Pancake on a stick
-Store bought crustless bread - now that's just lazy!
-Guacamole
-Popped Collars


And the biggest of all...

-IMPROPER GRAMMAR (we all knew that was coming)

I know this list makes me look like I have no fun and don't enjoy life, but I assure you, I do. Please stay tuned for more utter disbeliefs as God brings them to my attention.