Archive for June, 2009

I Didn’t Start It

Tuesday, June 16th, 2009

I’ve know Gordon since sophomore year of highschool. We were pretty tight through our couple years in highschool (though we didn’t go to the same one). We eventually dated our freshman year of college. After we split up, we had a love/hate relationship for a long time…about 7 or 8 years to be exact. But we eventually outgrew the hate and now we’re back to being friends like we once were a long, long time ago, though I don’t see him as often as I used to.

I do see him out occassionally and get random phonecalls every now and then, though. I received a phone call just last week actually. It was about a 5 minute convo- short, sweet and to the point. It went something like this:

Him: So today I pulled up to my house and there was a fire truck in front of it. My garage caught on fire.

Me: I was in Baton Rouge working all day. I swear. 

I’m glad after all these years and all we’ve been through, I can still beat him to the punch of his own jokes.

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The Vietnam War

Monday, June 15th, 2009

I’m certain the table did not come from the Walmart, but here’s a story that I received via “Submit a Story” (which all of you should do!)

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Hi Cheeky. I just absolutely LOVE your stories. They make me smile. I have a great story for you. This one involves my girlfriend, Cindy. She’s so silly. She has this really nice table and chair set that she got from the walmarts a few years back. There’s nothing wrong with it – solid wood, all the legs work, seems to be pretty sturdy. Well, I mentioned a while back that she shouldn’t sell it and that she should hold on to it, because you never know when you may need a table. I mentioned to Cindy that I’d take the table down to NOLA to store in her brothers garage. No problem, I live there anyway. So I was over at her house last weekend, taking apart the table, when I noticed it was made in Vietnam – the Democratic Peoples Republic Of Vietnam that is. Now, I happen to be a proponent of buying American goods. I like American. It’s usually pretty good quality, supports our economy (which is pretty important right now), and generally, it makes me feel good to know that I’m helping a fellow American put dinner on his family’s table. Well, I feel that if I can afford another table, that I’d rather have an American made table. But Cindy doesn’t agree! Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve. … Women!

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It’s quite possible that she had barely any money when she purchased her set and just so happened to find a good deal, not caring where it was made because all she wanted was a place to sit and eat. I’ve been in her place before.

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Communist

Wednesday, June 10th, 2009

My little condo was beginning to feel very small. I like a lot of ’stuff’. But I keep adding and adding…at some point, I needed to give something up. 

My dining table and chairs- I never really used it to ‘dine’ on. Zack and I had discussed, though, that I should not sell the table and chairs because eventually we’d need one when we make a house together. So I don’t sell it. Zack and his friend spent the night taking everything apart, so that Z could load it up in the el and take it to my brother’s house for storage.

On his way home from my brother’s, who mind you…lives in New Orleans, Zack calls me and I thank him for taking care of the table and reiterate that as soon as he gets a new place to live, the table is ready to be taken by him.

Then, with the utmost seriousness, he tells me that he won’t take it- apparently while he was taking apart the table, he saw that it was made in Vietnam and he refuses to support Communism. I thought he was trying to be so serious so that he wouldn’t bust out laughing, but no. He meant it. He told me to give my table to Goodwill and we’ll buy a new one because he refused to have furniture from Vietnam. But really, he wouldn’t be supporting child labor…I may have apparently when I bought the set a few years back. But he wouldn’t be.

 Give my table to Goodwill? Did I hear him right? Why, yes, I did. All I have to say to that is pft. 

He should have told me before he brought it down to New Orleans. Boys…

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This Little Piggy

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009

Dancing. I’m always doing it- around the house, in a store, from my office door to my car…and even at parties. Zack and I were at his friend’s law school graduation party. We were having a blast. I started dancing…I got Zack to dance with me. It was good, wholesome fun.

I never let anyone pick me up. I kind of hate it- not that I think I’m too heavy or anything, I am just always worried I’m going to be dropped. 

Well, Zack decided to pick me up, throw me over his shoulder and start spinning around. I, at that point, started requesting to be put down because my dress was flailing all about. He put me down. He put me down real good.

Good enough to break my toe! A nice little non-bendable, slightly bruised toe. And yes, I walked with a limp for a few days.

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