Tag Archives: humor

Aug 11 2014
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Wassup USA?

Play Me Something Country: A City Woman’s Morning in the Fields

Oklahoma has the longest drivable stretch of Rt. 66 in the entire country. I decided to take advantage of it this morning after dropping my sister off at work and stealing/borrowing her car. I had dreams of driving all the way to northern Texas before I had to return, but didn’t even make it out of the second county because things got interesting.

Here’s a play by play of my morning until 9. And it only got more interesting from here, but you’ll have to see the made for TV movie about my life to find out what happened.

6:00 A.M. CST

Dropped my sister off at work. Have her wheels for the day. Will try not to destroy anything.

6:05 A.M. CST

Pulled up to Beverly’s Pancake House. Looks like some waitresses just started their smoke break. Hope I don’t interrupt it by being that 6 A.M. customer.

Beverly's Pancake House

Beverly’s Pancake House

6:06 A.M. CST

Am definitely that 6 A.M customer and definitely interrupted their smoke break. Tried to apologize for it and the waitress told me not to worry about it, baby. It’s nice to be called baby by an older woman sometimes.

6:46 A.M. CST

Am taking this pancake, this strip of bacon and what’s left of my hashbrowns on the road with me, along with the rest of this book I’m reading, “Lessons from a Desperado Poet.” Time to hit the road. I’m heading to Rt. 66 East.

7:01 A.M. CST

Got turned around somehow. Don’t really know where I’m going but might make more sense to just go on Rt. 66 West since it’s right in front of me.

7:11 A.M. CST

I love everything about what what I’m doing right now. The sun is still rising, the roads are still clear, and I got the entire west of the U.S. in front of me and more diners than I know what to do with. This is awesome.

7:45 A.M. CST

Time to fill up the ‘ol tank with gas. Probably shouldn’t have hopped that curb quite so much. Hope these tires aren’t misaligned now and that my sister doesn’t read this post.

7:58 A.M. CST

Got a coffee from McDonald’s too to seal the deal after taking a piss. Man I can’t help using this country lingo after listening to country jams all morning. Not sure I’m saying them right though. Oh well, ain’t y’all!

8:12 A.M. CST

Saw a sign for Chester’s Party Barn after passing through Piedmont. Looks interesting. I’m going to investigate.

Chester's Party Barn

Chester’s Party Barn

8:21 A.M. CST

Still no sign of the party barn but I’m on a dirt road now. There’s no one out here. I like to stop the car on the road and get out and walk around and feel the solitude. More birds than you can shake a wooden spoon at.

8:27 A.M. CST

Where is Chester’s Party Barn? Is this a trap? Am I going to be shot?

8:42 A.M. CST

Found the party barn. Apparently they do comedy shows. Could this be a new venue for me?

image

8:43 A.M. CST

Realized there’s dirt all over my pants and the back of my sister’s car. I guess this is what all those country songs are talking about. They make it sound fun, but this kind of sucks.

8:53 A.M. CST

Mule!

image

8:59 A.M. CST

Damn I think I’m lost.

9:10 A.M. CST

Found my way again! Just need to follow the signs in the opposite direction of Chester’s Party Barn. Also, I saw a hawk!

9:23 A.M. CST

Stopped at the McDonald’s again to go to the bathroom. Didn’t buy anything this time, but on account of the dirt on my pants, it looks like I went out into the fields to do a drug deal or have a love tryst in between McDonald’s breaks.

9:32 A.M. CST

Back on Rt. 66 West. We’ll take it just a little longer to see where the adventure goes.

NB: this is not Rt. 66. Just pretty picture.

NB: this is not Rt. 66. Just pretty picture.

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Aug 10 2014
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Wassup USA?

Growing Up is For People Who Have No Imagination

Can't wait to be on conference calls one day!

Can’t wait to be on conference calls one day!

I turned twenty five today. There was no surprise birthday party, few gifts and less Facebook notifications than there have been in years past. This birthday just lazed in, almost unnoticed, like bread that looks normal but when you open it up it’s got mold all over it.

Growing up, twenty five seemed like the pinnacle of adulthood. By the time I turned twenty five, I thought I’d be married, have a career as a world-renowned neurosurgeon or something equally remarkable, wear makeup and shave my legs, and pretty much have figured it all out. The world, formerly known as my oyster, would now be a pearl that I’d wear around my neck as I laughed gracefully over a meal at a fancy restaurant with my best girlfriends. I would be wearing heels.

This has not happened. Life as I’ve lived it has had more surprises and twists and turns in it than I could have imagined, and it’s not at all simple. In fact, it’s only gotten more complicated. Where I once imagined that everything had a correct answer, I now believe that decision making is mostly a crapshoot. Also, laughing gracefully is for people who have no imagination.

Adulthood used to seem so well-defined. One day you would wake up and find your family in a house that you’ve purchased with a mortgage and have potted plants outside, and you would take certain things more seriously and not act silly with your friends. And that’s how you knew you were an Adult and that you’d done growed up. You were a Grown-Up.

Now I don’t believe in any of that. I know that adulthood is something else entirely from what you own and your relational status, and that I would rather never eat ice cream again than stop being silly. And I pretty much live for ice cream, so that’s saying a lot.

Now I know there is no handbook on any of this stuff, that there is no right answer, that there is no well defined path, and if there is one, I probably want to steer clear of it.

I used to think twenty five was the end of growing up, but now it’s clear that it’s just the beginning of a journey that will probably never end. And that’s fine with me. Here’s to one hundred more years of confusion and slow realizations!

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Aug 09 2014
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Wassup USA?

14-ish Things That Happen When You Return to Your Hometown

i am!

i am!

After leaving, can we ever really go home again? The question has been posed time and again by singers, writers and poets of many generations. It’s kind of silly because the answer is obviously yes. We can definitely go home, but it’s usually a little weird and can even be uncomfortable.

If you’ve ever gone through the experience of living away from home and then coming back after a while, you’ll probably relate to one or more of these.

1. Your parents have done something new with their house. It might be a new couch, or a new door, but whatever it is, it reminds you that nothing is sacred and nothing stays the same.

2. A business that you loved and / or saw constantly will be gone. “Why, Homeplate hot dogs, why?! I never got to try your savory dogs!”

3.  You remember all the reasons you left your hometown in the first place. “Really, camo-vest, man? Do you have to take up two parking spots in your Ford 350?”

4. Certain places become “minefields” where you’re doomed to run in to people that you went to high school with, and we all know how much you loved high school. Not.

5.  Inevitably, you’ll run in to someone you know, and then both of you will either fight the urge to or wholeheartedly engage in “catching up,” also known as “dick measuring.” Recent trips, relationship statuses, current jobs and apartment sizes must all be covered and compared.

6. Your hometown will surprise you i.e. “Where did that Moroccan tea place come from?” “Wow, vape places are really popular.” “Interesting, didn’t know that Shepler’s Western wear had a store here.”

7. You’ll go to a bar, see one of the popular kids, and freak out a little bit. You’ll try to reason with yourself and be like, “Nah, it’s cool. I live out of state now,” but beneath that pscho-babble there is real fear and an acknowledgement that this is not your turf. It belongs to the polo shirts.

8. You’ll resolve to never go to the aforementioned bar again and give another excuse for not going besides cowardice i.e. “the vibe wasn’t really for me.”

9. While grocery shopping, you’ll feel like a complete jackass for looking for Belgian endives.

10. Occasionally, someone will mention a person or place to you that you’ve kind of forgotten and they will be surprised that you don’t remember what you’re talking about. Secretly, you like when this happens. It means your brain has been filled up with more interesting things.

11. Someone you used to know will see you and enthusiastically comment on how good you look. This will happen regardless of your appearance. You know this, but you’ll still leave the conversation wondering if you really look that good. You hope so.

12. When you get off the plane, you look around wondering if there are any old crushes or enemies lurking about. There never are.

13. Despite your best efforts, you will compare your hometown and the city where you now live in front of other people. Whatever you say will be boring and kill the conversation and you’ll hate yourself for doing it, but you’ll do it at least three more times before leaving town.

14. If you’re staying with your parents, you will revert to childhood and find yourself roughhousing on the couch with your sister with your mom in the kitchen yelling, “If anything happens, I’m not paying for it.” This will mean more to you now that you have your own health insurance (or lack of it.)

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Aug 08 2014
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Wassup USA?

My Biggest Accomplishment So Far This Summer: A Tiny Tanline

behold the tiny tan line

behold the tiny tan line

Six weeks ago, I left my job in marketing to follow my dreams of being something entirely different. I flew out from San Francisco three days later to Chicago and then passed through the cities of Nashville, Atlanta, Asheville, Charlotte, Washington D.C., Boston, New York, and now Edmond, OK.

I’ve walked what feels like hundreds of miles, consumed at least thirty protein bars and twelve hundred almonds, ridden the public transit system in four cities and gotten lost in all of them, and spent a cumulative thirty hours on buses. My feet are tired. One of my two shirts is pit-stained beyond repair, and my backpack has a thin layer of peanut butter in the front pocket where some single serving peanut butter packages burst open and I failed to remove them until many days later. That’s also the pocket where I keep my electronic cords.

I left SF because I am a coward and knew I would need physical distance to keep me from reverting to the familiar and pleading to have my paid shackles back. The trip has been challenging and I’ve learned much, perhaps too much. I’ve questioned everything I want and believe in, then reaccepted it, and then questioned it again. I almost moved to Asheville.

But here I am in Edmond, OK, the place of my middle and high school education, first crushes, and AP classes, and I’m proud to say this: that despite everything, the uncertainty of the future, the haziness of the past, and my tendency to make decisions based on how hungry I am, in spite of future failure or success, I am proud to say this, that I have a tiny tan line on my wrist. It might seem unimportant or nonexistent to you, but I know my wrist, and that is a tan line and it is most important.

It comes from being outside in full view of the sun, away from any corporate overlord or indentured servitude. It comes from singing in the open air while walking through public gardens, from waiting for the bus during the middle of the day like a free woman, from sitting and doing nothing at all in the park with my face in the shade under an elm tree in Washington D.C., doing nothing though I have believed that more work will make me happy, doing nothing though I have measured my entire life in terms of productive output, doing nothing though I had swallowed the falsehood that doing something is better than doing nothing. Why should it be like that? Why indeed?

I’ve learned to question everything, to know that nothing exists “as it is supposed to be,” that everything is created, constructed and interpreted according to something that humans made up. We just made it up.

I don’t know what the next step is, and in a few months or less I may be dreaming of a return to the office and eating all of these words, but until then I will nourish this tiny tan line with pride. In a society where one is judged by the threadcount of one’s sheets and the size of one’s paycheck, I will brandish my tiny tan line as a symbol of my search for real freedom.

Also, because you asked, I’d have to say my second biggest accomplishment is learning to love the selfie.

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Aug 07 2014
2 Comments
Wassup USA?

What’s a Landline? And Other Intergenerational Differences Highlighted by My Trip to Wichita

On the way back from Wichita

On the way back from Wichita

My grandparents are wonderful. They were born in Kansas (I think.) They moved around a bit in the middle of their life, but now they’re back in Wichita and living in the same home that my father was reared in as a little blonde devil.

Mom and I went up and visited them today for dinner since I hadn’t seen them for a while. The trip got me thinking about intergenerational differences and how we respond to the same phenomena. Things like technology can be particularly divisive.

I’ve put together some topics and the different generations’ reactions to them below. Perhaps you’ll see some of your own family’s truth reflected here.

On telecommunications: 

Grandparents: We still answer the landline and have lots of trouble with solicitors and politicians. Yes, we have a cellphone but only use it when we need it and turn it off afterwards.

Parents: We just got rid of the landline after years of just letting it ring in fear of talking to a phone solicitor. We also use smart phones but some people (hint, hint) use them too much to check CNN.

Me: What’s a landline? Also, smart phones are destroying society and lives because we’ve not yet learned a way to use them that doesn’t disrupt natural human patterns. I’m a radical. Sue me.

On Facebook: 

Grandparents: We don’t use Facebook because it’s not safe to let people know where you are all the time. That’s how the thieves find out when you’re out of town and come to rob you.

Parents: We like using Facebook to keep in touch with family and see who our children are dating. Sometimes the games are fun too.

Me: I use Facebook still even though it’s super boring. Really, I just recognize it as my technological overlord which manages events and less important friendships. Instagram is where it’s at.

On the state of the world:

Grandparents: Everyday there are more shootings on the news. It’s just terrible.

Parents:  A strong leader in Washington could solve most of our problems.

Me: Our government is entirely unequipped to handle the problems of today. We live in a post-governmental society that operates by the rule of mass organizations  and armed bodies, and the faster we recognize that the better. All states should be abolished in favor of regional governments that answer to a global governing body that is located on the International Space Station. I never read the news. I’m a radical.

On Kansas: 

Grandparents: Kansas is the best place on earth.

Parents: Kansas is where our parents live.

Me: Kansas exists.

On life choices:

Grandparents: We’ve made difficult choices in our life, but always sacrificed for the good of our family. Though we may not have always had a lot, we knew that with hard work and determination (and by the Lord’s will), we would survive and be blessed.

Parents: Our parents worked hard to give us better lives than they had. We went to college and got professions helping people and stayed close to our parents geographically to be there for them in their times of need. We recognize the needs of the family are above our own.

Me: The world revolves around me and my dreams. I will go wherever I need to go in order to fulfill them. Hopefully I’ll be able to see my family twice a year or so.

On how dessert should be served:

Grandparents: After dinner, Grandpa always scoops out the ice cream for everyone onto their plate to go with their brownie. It’s his job as patriarch to give everyone their ice cream.

Parents: We let Grandpa serve everyone ice cream because that’s how it’s done and we know it’s polite to let him continue doing it even though it’s obviously inefficient.

Me: WTF is this? Why can’t I just get my own ice cream? It takes so long for him to dish it out to everyone, and everyone wants a different amount. OMG this is so painful. WHY GOD WHY. And now I need to eat more ice cream than I want? Great, gramps. How am I going to get a bf with my ice cream rolls?

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