Busted

First, some back story:

I have two dogs. Both rescue dogs so I don't know what kind of dogs they are, just that they are well-loved and well-trained . . . or so I thought!

Both dogs are kennel trained so their kennels are always open and available to them. You know, their little happy place.

Anyway, Dean Martin is a little dog. My other dog is Max.

This story is about Max. Max is a long-legged Heinz 57 all the way.

So tonight, I'm sitting on the sofa watching NCIS (nerd) and Max walks by me and I hear a thunk.

I look over at him and there is a slice of PIZZA on the floor!!! Pizza that he had pilfered off the stovetop.

So in that moment we're both looking at the pizza slice and Max didn't even bother to look up at me. He kept his head down and slunk off into his crate.

BUSTED!

Boudreaux and the Flood

When I was laid off I updated my resume on (sounds like) Nonster. Within two weeks I was fielding calls from recruiters about temp jobs. About 80% of the calls were for companies in Birmingham; I live 90 miles away. Even though most of these calls were for jobs in my professional "wheelhouse," I kept turning them down because I wanted a permanent job with benefits in my town. For three months I kept applying to jobs in my city, but recruiters in B'ham kept blowing up my phone.

I was raised Catholic, but I wouldn't call myself religious. However, I've been through enough shit in my life that I have faith that everything happens for a reason.

"Faith is that tenuous belief in things hoped for and belief in things unseen."

Now see, that little bit there is from the bible, but I only know it as something I heard CJ Craig say on The West Wing. Sigh. I miss that show.

Anyway, there I am, telling recruiters that while the jobs sound interesting, I'm really looking for something in my town.
Three months ya'll. Three months of watching my savings account dwindle.

I was in the car and I did something I rarely do, I looked skyward and said, "Okay, look, I don't make it a habit to ask for things for myself. You know when I ask for help it's always for someone else, but you've got to do me a solid here G."
So, I walked inside the house and I got a call about a temp job in Birmingham. I froze in my tracks because all this time I've been focusing on jobs in Montgomery, but the only jobs calling me were from B'ham.

It hit me . . . this could be my helicopter.

A terrible storm came into town and officials sent out an emergency warning that the riverbanks would soon overflow and flood the nearby homes. They ordered everyone in the town to evacuate immediately.

Boudreaux heard the warning and decided to stay, saying to himself, “I will trust God and if I am in danger, then God will send a divine miracle to save me.”

The neighbors came by Boudreaux's house and said to him, “We’re leaving and there is room for you in our car, please come with us!” But Boudreaux declined. “I have faith that God will save me.”

As Boudreaux stood on his porch watching the water rise up the steps, a man in a pirogue paddled by and called to him, “Hurry and come into my pirogue, the waters are rising quickly!” But Boudreaux again said, “No thanks, God will save me.”

The floodwaters rose higher pouring water into his living room and Boudreaux had to retreat to the second floor. A police motorboat came by and saw him at the window. “We will come up and rescue you!” they shouted. But Boudreaux refused, waving them off saying, “Use your time to save someone else! I have faith that God will save me!”

The flood waters rose higher and higher and Boudreaux had to climb up to his rooftop.

A helicopter spotted Boudreaux and dropped a rope ladder. A rescue officer came down the ladder and pleaded with the man, "Grab my hand and I will pull you up!" But Boudreaux STILL refused, folding his arms tightly to his body. “No thank you! God will save me!”

Shortly after, the house broke up and the floodwaters swept Boudreaux away and he drowned.

When in Heaven, Boudreaux stood before God and asked, “I put all of my faith in You. Why didn’t You come and save me?” 

And God said, “Son, I sent you a warning. I sent you a car. I sent you a canoe. I sent you a motorboat. I sent you a helicopter. What more were you looking for?” 

Getting My Feet Did

There are some awful assumptions made by people when I tell them my massage therapist is asian. Insert joke about happy ending here. My massage ladies are amazing. There are galvanized pipes hanging from the ceiling and the ladies hold on to them as they walk on your back. They also use their knees and elbows for a fantasic myofascial treatment. Aside from one unfortunate incident that involved my slippery butt and a knee, I've never had anything unseemly happen while there. This entry (snerk) alas is not about the great work being done at Accupressure Massage.

This story is about the time I got a pedicure. I get my toes done about once every six weeks. I do it because I like looking at my pretty toes, but also because I think I might be part horse.

Lord, my heels are hooves. No, really . . . one time they cranked up the orbital sander to attack my callouses. Ya'll, they had to bust out a tool they bought at the Home Depot to get my feet soft! It's just what it is. I have a place that I go to regularly and yes, the people there are asian; Vietnamese I think.

Well, this last month I had to go to a salon with which I am unfamiliar. For the most part the salons take walk-ins, and it's no big deal. I don't like going somewhere other than my regular place because I like knowing the people at the salon.

The thing you need to know about a nail salon is that we don't go just because there are third-world immigrants washing our feet (just kidding). All of the salons I have been to are equipped with tricked out massage chairs. They kneed, thump, roll, and of course, vibrate. As this was my first trip to this particular salon, it took me a minute to figure out the chair options.

I read all of the buttons and I had a difficult time getting the chair to do what I wanted it to do. It was doing this unfortunate thumping massage, but it must have been designed for someone taller than myself as it kept boxing me in the head! Once I got that straightened out, I moved on to a button that said "stretching." Hmm, I thought, stretching my spine sounds like it could feel good.

So, I tried it.

It starts at your neck and it feels like two rolling pins that push into you and then roll away from each other. It is a miniscule amount of stretching that is done, but it feels nice. It works its way down your spine and then these rollers in the seat take over.My butt cheeck were kneeded like doughdough. Seriously.

I'm not gonna lie, it felt good. So, there I am, I'm being stretched and kneeded and then out of nowhere: BAM! SHOCKER!

The mother-fucking-chair fisted me.

I tried to look all cool about it, but it was disconcerting. I kept wriggling around the chair because I thought maybe I just wasn't sitting on it correctly. Nope, not the problem. Every three minutes a mechanical fist punched my taint. In order to make a better experience I finally just set the damn thing on vibrate.

While I was sitting at the drying station the lady next to me asked, "Was this your first time here?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Weird, right?" Me, "The chairs?" Her, "Yeah."

I don't want to go back, but as my dear friend Heather says, "You should try everything twice just to make sure!"

He Was Not Like the Other Boys

I have a ninety minute commute and it gives me time to talk on the phone. Recently, my brother and I had a talk about sexuality and awareness.

He was discussing all of these band posters and albums he had in high school. He also had Madonna pins I wore on my denim jacket.

Finally mid-conversation Carlos wailed, "How did I not know that I was gay?!? All of this is indicative of who I was!"

I asked, "How would you know? There wasn't a deeper meaning in the things you liked. They were just things."

I said, "Well the things you liked weren't different because they were the things that just made you Carlos. It's society that assigns meaning to our possessions, meaning Carlos is just Carlos and while you might not have been like the other boys, you're just another man living in the world around him."