here i go again

 

5 in a row.  good if you’re bowling.  not good when it’s how many nights you’ve been up past 1:30 am.  it’s not by choice.  i’ve never been a night owl.  in fact, i was home in bed by 2 am the night of my senior prom.  i love me some sleep.  i had a job at one point that required 3 weeks of midnight to 8 am training and i thought i’d die.  there is no rational reason, to me, to be awake after midnight.  unless, of course, it’s your job to protect me so i can sleep peacefully.  by the way, thank you to all those who serve and protect. i’m hoping that this will end soon, but on the slim chance that it doesn’t, i’m open to any and all suggestions of how to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. 

i’m begging for some help.  i need my beauty sleep.  i know the economy is bad, but i hope somebody ain’t fired the sandman.  then again, if he ain’t been fired and he’s being slack, i’m gonna go lookin for him and he ain’t gonna be happy when i find him.  i’ve watched all the “deadliest catch” i can stand.  HELP!

any ideas?

i usually write about what’s on my mind at any given moment.  but i would like to try something different for a few days.  i want to try and write about subjects you request.  i realize this could be dangerous, but it could also be fun.  so, leave a comment with a suggestion for a blog and i’ll write something.  can’t promise it will be of any great importance to the world but who knows.

oh my deer. . . .

 

every now and then i get to see parts of the today show.  several weeks back matt lauer had a bicycle accident with a deer and injured his shoulder.  he was back on the show a couple days later with his arm in a sling.  i got to see the show  again this week and he is still wearing the sling.

matt, suck it up dude.  act like a man, lose the sling and move on.  you’re acting like a wuss.

i can say this because i had surgery on my shoulder a few years ago on a wednesday.  they repaired a torn rotator cuff and tightened the capsule around the joint because it had been stretched from several dislocations.  on the saturday after the surgery i was out shooting skeet. 

it was bad enough that a deer ran you down, please don’t make yourself look more wimpy by milking the injury any longer.

dear cracker barrel,

dear cracker barrel,

i don’t understand what is happening between us.  it seems as though you don’t love me anymore.  i remember the days when we would sit and laugh around your tables while enjoying great heaping mounds of biscuits.  oh the thought of your slightly golden, fluffy clouds of flourery goodness nearly makes me swoon.  but you’ve changed.  where you used to give yourself to me wholeheartedly without reservation, you now hold back.  i find myself begging for the opportunity to hold your warm butteryness in my hands.  the fact that others are hearing me plead with you causes me embarrassment.  i don’t know what i did to make you take away the liberties i used to enjoy with you.  i guess i stopped meeting your needs somehow.  but i’m changing.  i’ve recently attended a dynamic class and learned that your needs are important.  so please let’s have conversation and be open and honest.  please share with me what those needs are.  i NEED your biscuits!  and i’ll do whatever i have to, to get them. 

with fondest apple butter slathered regards,  allen

well, i’ve never . . . . .

i keep having this funny thing happen to me. as we all know it’s hallmark season, i mean, fa la la la lifetime season, i mean Christmas season. every time i walk in the room their is a sappy movie on the tv. the problem is this; when i sit there for 3 seconds i instantly recognize the movie as one we’ve watched 12 times in the past. i can even tell my wife that the guy and his daughter and the female stranger with them will be driving a green truck. i can tell her that the guy in the next movie works for his father in law at his tire store. i seem to know all these details yet my wife says, “ well i’ve never seen these movies before”. i tell her we watched them together because i sure ain’t watched them by myself. cause we all know how manly i am.

so do i have a gift or am i the butt of a cruel joke?

Man, i feel like a woman . . . . .

shania twain ain’t got nothin’ on me.

 so i’ve got this friend and he and this girl just started talking this past weekend and of course he’s all excited and fluffy feeling and they talk on the phone for hours at a time late into the night and all the stuff you do when you first start a relationship. the problem is this, i’ve got butterflies and i can hardly wait to talk to him to find out what’s happening and how their first date is going and, man, i feel like a woman. this is not the behavior of a 36 year old grown man who enjoys things like football and mixed martial arts and mud and old cars and my wife. i would expect a post like this from the type of man who is really into rainbows. but i’m a man’s man. dusty rhodes is my favorite athlete. i like to shoot little furry animals.

if anyone has any response as to why i’m feeling so pretty, Oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright!

ok you get the picture.

please let me sing in the choir, in the choir. . . .

so i’ve got this secret and i’ve never told anyone before and i thought this would be the best way to free myself of years of shame. let the whole world know. a medium that reaches worldwide. or at least to the 3 of you that find me amusing.

i don’t know what size underwear i wear. there, now it’s out. i feel free already. ok so its not that big of a deal to you but i have never been able to buy the right size underwear. what i wear in a pant size does not correspond to my unmentionables. for instance, i haven’t bought drawers in several years(except for the boxers i bought to wear on the cruise last year, and they didn’t fit either). i bought some yesterday at walmart. they were on sale 7 pairs of tighty whiteys for $7. what a deal. i love walmart. so i get home and open the pack and pull out a pair of underwear that would have saved d.b. cooper’s life. they were huge, not to mention if i put them on and pulled them up they would go up to my boobs. if i wore them at my waist the bottoms would be around my knees. now i’m a big guy but i ain’t 9 feet tall. in fact most fat guys you see are short and round. anyway, i didn’t even attempt to put them on. my wonderful wife took them back to walmart today and swapped them for the next smaller size. i don’t even want to think about what the lady at customer service was thinking when she saw my petite wife bringing back goliaths briefs. so, she gets home and once again i’m excited because i get to put on a new pair of drawers for the 1st time in probably 6 years. i got out of the shower, ripped open the bag and inspected my new drawers. they were the right length this time so i jumped in with much gusto and gained several octaves to my manly voice. how in the world can you go from king kong to curious george in 1 size increment.

so tomorrow i will be singing with the sopranos but at least i’ll have new underwear.

am i losing it?

i have come to the realization today that there are things in this life i simply can not do. there are some things i can’t physically do. this is tough to accept but i’m learning to “let it go”. there are some things that i can’t intellectually do. calculus for one. 15 years after college and it still makes absolutely no sense. i don’t know how i passed it back then. there are things that i can’t mentally/emotionally do. this is the hardest for me to accept. i’ve always believed in the power of making up ones mind and just doing it. i’ve always thought that alot of peoples problems are in their head and they should just get over it. but as i age, i’m finding it not so easy to just do it or get over it. now i know you will think me silly, but what brought me to this point was when i tried to paint Ace’s room this morning. painting around the trim absolutely threw me off my rocker. i felt more stress and total lack of self control than i think i ever have before. i could not do it without getting paint on the trim. no matter how slow i painted or how much concentration i applied, i got paint on the trim. i went through 25 q-tips trying to clean orange paint off the white trim. i finally had to just stop. i have sat around for the last 2 hours completely drained mentally. my conclusion is this, God has gifted me with many different things, painting ain’t one of em’!