Driving Stories

Many apologies to those in the room, but I couldn't do anything until I got back to English. Apparently it was Slovokian (sp). But hey, doesn't it relate to the topic in a weird sort of Blackwater kind of way? I was trying to get to the Blog, and I couldn't get there . . .

I've come to the realization that when someone wants me to do something that I don't want to do, I'll do it, but I'll do it the way that I want to. It's a Blackwater thing. Case in point last night at a Pampered Chef Party. In case you have never been to one, before they feed you, they have you pass around some little trinket (last night it was two pink ribbon pins) while asking the consultant questions for a certain amount of time about the business.

This was my second PC party in two months, and maybe it was the lack of sleep, but I was feeling more than a little jaded. The pins had been passed from person to person with polite questions like "How long have you been a consultant?" and "How much money do you make?" When they got to me I asked the simpliest question I could. The shortest verse in the Bible question: "How are the orders shipped?" The answer, because I'm sure you all are dying to know, is FedEx, ladies and gentlemen. Try expanding on that one.

Renee, who was sitting next to me, and I then started thinking up other stupid questions that we could ask her, such as "Have you ever cut your finger while chopping something?" but alas the time ran out. And I really wanted those pink pins. I could have put them on my hat today ala the servers at TGI Fridays.

Back to the topic . . . sort of . . . While I was driving here this morning, I had the strange desire to wave at all of the police officers that I saw. (I passed both a Valdosta City patrolman and a Lowndes County deputy. Why is the city a "policeman" and the county a "sheriff"? Why the distinction? As Rodney would say, "'Can't we all just get along?'" Where is Rodney? What ever happened to him?) I don't know if it was the hat or the socks or the combination.

Driving . . . I see all kinds of weird things while I'm driving. Saturday I saw a guy on West Hill Ave, near the IHOP, standing near the curb, pouring orange Powerade on his head. Or maybe it was Gatorade. But I'm inclined to think it was the former, not the latter. Powerade is more watery to me than Gatorade. But that is beside the point. Why would you pour Powerade on your head? I realize that it is freakin' hot, but hot is making yourself sticky going to make it better?

Anyway, as I continued home the same day, I saw that The Catfish House on Bemiss Road is going to start serving breakfast on June 26. I don't know what it is, but the idea of going to a seafood restaurant for breakfast just doesn't do it for me. The other day I noticed the word "homemade" was in front of breakfast. I don't know if that was there on Saturday, but how does that make it any different? What other kinds of breakfast are there at a restaurant? Pre-fab? Freeze dried? Pseudo? Fake? What else would you expect at a seafood restaurant?

My mom, bless her heart, cannot look and drive at the same time. I learned from an early age never to say, "Mom, look at that" because if I did, the car would veer off in that direction as well. My dad was not much better. Before my mom and I told my dad he could no longer drive, he liked to drive on both sides of the road. It's a wonder that I can drive as well as I do considering they were my driving instructors and considering what I look like.