Love, Jimmie

And That Is Why Bubba And I Broke Up

11 Dec 2012 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Outings Tags: Humor, Relationships

It was 1990 and I was a senior in high school. I had kissed a few boys but had only had one boyfriend of note. His name was Chris and he was cute but we fell apart pretty quickly when I learned that he cut the tags out of my bras so that he could show his friends what size bra I wore. Remember I was breastacularly blessed in those days. I really felt like he liked me for me and not what I brought to the party, so to speak. I thought he was one of the few guys whose eyes made contact with mine and not my chest. Apparently I was mistaken, but honestly I wasn’t crushed. I was only 16 after all.

Then when I was 17 I took a field trip with my classmates. On the bus one of my good boy friends, Billy, and I talked about prom. I know this will be hard for you to believe, but I was super shy in high school. I didn’t talk much outside of my circle and especially not to boys. I would have DIED if I had to start a conversation with one so the boys who were close to me were pretty rare. Anyway, Billy and I talked about prom and decided we’d like to go together. See, he was really tall and I had a super cute car. I could wear heels without feeling like the dork that was taller than her date and he got the chance to drive my car, which he loved. I was pretty excited about this plan.

About two weeks after I made this date, another boy started showing interest in me. His name, and I am not even kidding, was Bubba. Bubba looked me in the eye and asked me out for real dates and before long, I was wearing his class ring. I’d spend an hour or so every Sunday night melting wax from a candle and molding it to fit in the back of that ring so that it would fit me. Then I’d stare at it for hours. I loved wearing that ring. And Bubba was nice too.

When prom time rolled around, Bubba started making some noise about what we would wear. I had already designed my dress – it was a black mullet dress with a white and black polka dot liner. I was so proud of it. Here’s the problem, though. Billy had already picked out his tux to match my dress. We still were planning to go to prom together. It never occurred to me to take Bubba until he mentioned it. I wanted to go with Billy. It was a difficult conversation but Bubba said he understood.

Billy and I had a fantastic time at the prom. And then we had a fantastic time at the after party. Bubba attended the party as well, and while I liked showing off the ring to all my friends, I never seemed to make the leap into actually showing off my boyfriend. Late into the night, Billy got . . . . sick to his stomach. Yes, sick to his stomach. I’m pretty sure it was some . . . . bad crab dip, yes of course, because I know there was no alcohol at that party (Hi, Daddy-O!). Since we took my car to the prom, I drove him home leaving Bubba behind with all my friends.

Not long after that Bubba and I parted ways. It might have been the next day. I cannot recall. What remains of our relationship is a prom picture in which I am wearing his ring and some graffiti under a bridge that reads “Bubba loves Jimmie”. I’d take a picture of it but there are probably snakes under that bridge and while I loved that ring, I’m just not that committed.

In case you hadn’t guessed, Billy grew up into Prom Date Will. I’m so sad that you can’t see Bubba’s ring in the picture. Still, when Prom Date Will and I get together again, we are totally going to recreate this photo with a modern day awkward pose. I figure we are good for it in 20 years which is exactly how often we see each other. I wonder if Bubba would let me borrow his ring.

This was my date.

And this was my car.

Stuff Murphy Peed On, A Limerick With Pictures

10 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Pets Tags: Humor

There once was a kitty named Murphy

Who felt that his life was quite worthy

He peed on some stuff

Then found it quite rough

When Jimmie kicked him out in a hurry.

Damn cat.

Sigh. Go Titans . . . .

09 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Outings Tags: Football, Humor

I’m so happy I picked the Titans for my team. Yeah, that was a good call.

About a week after I made my big announcement here in which I was giddy with excitement over having a team to call my own, my friend Billie asked if I wanted to go to a Titans’ game. She had tickets and parking passes and a bottle of wine for tailgating. Being a rabid fan and all, I said yes.

That was the weekend we played the Bears. Did any of you see that game? What an embarrassment that was. It was just pure humiliation. I’m pretty sure that every time the Bears trotted out their defense, we gave them the ball and they scored. Our first two points of the game were awarded because of a mistake made BY THE OTHER TEAM. I’ll say this, the Titans have pretty colors. That’s something. I picked something pretty, right?

Billie and I spent the entire game sitting four rows back from the end zone and in a sea of Bears fans. There were four people to the right of us wearing Titan’s colors and literally ever other person around us wore orange and navy and had a beer in hand. The whole stadium was like that. Those are some dedicated fans right there.

Over and over again, every time the Titans did something stupid, Billie and I would slump lower in our seats. When we initially arrived we were proud of our sweatshirts and jerseys but by the 90^th Bears’ touchdown, we were practically sitting on the concrete floor under our seats and couldn’t find enough material to cover anything we had on identifying us as a Titan. And also after the 90^th touchdown, Billie and I just started telling everyone around us, “It’s our Southern hospitality. We let you win. Plus, we brought the cheerleaders. You’re welcome.” And the Bears seemed truly grateful for that.

So about the Bears’ fans . . . . will anyone shoot me if I say they were nice? They really were. Some of the nicest people I’ve ever met sat next to us. The men who were so complimentary of our cheerleaders were also complimentary of Billie and me. They liked our hair and our voices and our niceness. I asked a few of them where the Chicago hot guys were, you know, the ones they were supposed to bring in trade for our cheerleaders. Their response: “We are from Chicago. We look like sausages. We eat well.” Noted.

And proven. Those same guys invited Billie and me to their after game celebration tailgate party. A group of them rented an RV, loaded it up with food and booze and drove down here for the weekend and so they had parties every night. One of the guys owns a chain of restaurants in Chicago and brought one of his giant logs of gyro meat and the thingamabob you cook it on. They had sausages of every sort. They had chips and pretzels and caramel corn and beer and liquor and some more beer and sausages. Their one nod to good health was the tub of raw onions they had for the sandwiches and the lone tomato they picked up somewhere along the way.

The group of them invented a sandwich for this road trip, called the Road Trip 2012 Man Sandwich Gyro Griller or some such nonsense. I called it a Heart Attack on a Bun. The sandwich started with a buttered grilled hoagie bun which was topped with at least one grilled sausage split in half lengthwise. Into the sausage was layered an extraordinary amount of shaved gyro meat. It was then topped with raw onion, a tomato, and more tzatziki sauce than can be good for you. Good luck trying to eat that. I did try it, minus the onion naturally, and after a few bites felt a little tight in my chest so I tossed the rest. Oof.

Those guys were a lot of fun. They were perfect gentlemen, too, which was a nice change. Not every man who plies you with tasty beverages and food and then cleans up after you, actually washing dishes and taking out the trash, has noble intentions. At least not in my experience. We made no promises to keep in touch but after reading the news the following week, I sort of wish we had. I think those guys would be inordinately proud to know that not only did the Chicago fans drink the stadium dry that day, they also wiped out nearly every bar downtown of beer. Unheard of.

Chicago Bears – beer drinkers, sausage cookers, football players. What an experience. By the way, I’m still a loyal fan of my team. I just wish I’d get the chance to attend a game in which I don’t leave in utter humiliation. Sigh.

Christmas Décor, Taken Seriously

08 Dec 2012 Leave a comment

by Love, Jimmie in This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble Tags: Christmas

Remember last year when I posted pictures of my neighbor’s house all lit up in its Christmas glitter? Remember how that was February? Those neighbors put lights up the night after Halloween and took them down right before March. I was really hopeful that I would be able to share with you this year their décor but as of this morning they still have their Thanksgiving scarecrow hanging from their front porch and no Christmas lights at all. Those are some fun neighbors.

I do, however, have other neighbors that have decorated for the season. I took a few pictures. There is something here for everyone.

Penguins. Very nice. This is for those of you who like the cute stuff.

For you sporty types, a golfing reindeer.

Mickey and Minnie. A Disney Christmas.

A Teddy Santa and his faithful giraffe. I have no idea. Animal lovers, perhaps?

Oh, look, a dinosaur! I just . . . I don’t know . . . .

Babe! I loved that movie!

Surely that isn’t a peacock? Is it?

Flamingos. Okay, a tropical theme. I can embrace that.

Santa on a polar bear! Traditional!

So, a wide variety of Christmas cheer, posted here for you. Want to know the best part? Every single one of those is in the same yard, and I didn’t even get half of them in a photo. I believe that is what you call overkill.

Merry Christmas, y’all.

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

07 Dec 2012 3 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Health, This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble, Weight Loss Tags: Humor

Two years ago for Christmas, Madre got me this awesome t-shirt.

Don’t listen to my sister – I am the favorite.

I opened it and as soon as I saw it, I held it up and crowed, “Told you I was the favorite!”

But to my chagrin, Martie had also opened a gift from Madre which was also an awesome t-shirt. She, too, was holding hers up crowing, “Told you she liked me best!”

Mom likes me best

Well played, Madre. Well played.

Last weekend Madre and I walked/jogged another 5K together. This one was the Jingle Bell Run and I’m sure it benefitted some charity or other but Madre and I got jingle bells to tie onto our shoes and so I lost all memory of anything other than my tinkling pretty feet. Once again, Madre and her legs for days won the race for her age division. I’m not even going to be surprised anymore. It has become our status quo. I, of course, did not place at all.

Congrats!

I did get something pretty cool, though. I forgot my t-shirt to wear to this race (see post from yesterday) and so had to borrow one from Martie. This is the one I snatched.

Since I have both shirts in my possession now, I’m pretty sure I WIN! Heh.

Lynnette? I Might Be Mad At You.

06 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Friends, Health, Weight Loss Tags: Humor

Yesterday morning I went to the gym. That is a statement in and of itself as I haven’t been what you call regular with those gym visits lately. But I got a gander of myself in one of the those dressing rooms where you can see the front of yourself and also the back of yourself and let me tell you, that right there will motivate you to get up off your pancake butt and go to the gym. You’d think it would motivate you to lay off the chocolate also but it seems I need something far more drastic than a back and front mirror.

Anyway, yesterday morning I went to the gym. I did a leg workout. It was a good idea overall, but when I got to the locker room to start my after workout ablutions, I realized I left my makeup bag in the car. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, forgetting the small things. It’s what happens when your life gets super busy. Just last week I forgot my shoes. I was leaving for work and grabbed my overnight clothes bag as I was spending the night with Martie, my purse, my lunch bag, my computer bag and my computer which for some reason was not in the bag. I ran out to the car and slung all my stuff in it, not wanting to be late for work. I flung myself into the driver’s seat, backed out of the driveway and drove nearly all the way out of my neighborhood before I realized I was not wearing any shoes. Nor did I pack any in my overnight bag. So that was a good morning.

Anyway, I left my makeup bag in the car. I walked through the gym, a flat surface, and out the side door to the parking lot where I had to step down off the curb, a tiny lip of concrete, and there I nearly fell down. That’s how weak my knees were after my hard core workout. (I can call it hard core because none of you were there to dispute it.) I got my makeup and then realized that I was going to have to walk through the front entrance of the gym to get back to the locker room. The entrance is all stairs, first up and then down. STAIRS! Y’all, I could have cried.

I did it. It wasn’t without danger. That staircase was fraught with peril. My legs at best were shaky. At five steps in they were jelly. At the top of the staircase, my knees said no more and then I had to clutch the rail all the way on the downside of the staircase like a little old lady so as not to collapse in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and embarrass myself in front of the one hot guy at the gym.

I’m fine now, thanks for asking. But seriously, whose idea was it for me to do a leg workout every week? Lynnette? I might be mad at you. I’ll let you know tomorrow when I assess my level of pain.

Happy Halloween!

05 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family Tags: Family

So it’s a month and a half late. Big deal. I was busy in the month of November you know.

Pooh and Tigger came for a visit. We went on a hayride and hung out by a bonfire. I think bonfires are gorgeous and cozy but after a while, the smoke starts to cloud up your eyes and the heat melts the fake eyelashes that Martie glued to your eyelids and your hair starts to smell kind of singed and the kids get bored and tired and there are no more s’mores left. At that point you go home.

But before all that, you take a picture with the best nieces in the whole world and you save it to show all your friends on your blog.

Don’t we look gorgeous?

Guest Post: Prom Date Will

04 Dec 2012 1 Comment

by Love, Jimmie in Guest Post Tags: Humor

So I’m Prom Date Will. Not really, since that name would be moronic even by modern celebrity baby names standards. Since I’ve noticed folks maintain code names in this small corner of the internet, I thought I’d maintain the status quo (on a side note, who do you suppose that “Madre” person is? The mystery!) I’ve known the regularly scheduled author of this blog since elementary school. Back then we both had different last names since our moms changed them after remarrying because that’s what moms did back before anyone really kept records. I remember this blog’s owner back before she had the faint blue dot on her cheek.

(Editor’s Note: Remember the story? A girl named Beth jammed a pencil in my cheek when I was in the 7^th grade? And that pencil left a blue mark underneath my skin so I have a permanent tattoo memory of my 7^th grade year? Remember that?)

A quick funny story about that blue dot: A few years back, I was being taken out to lunch by my coworkers for my birthday at my favorite burrito place. After not seeing her for about a decade or so, I thought I saw her in my favorite burrito place but wasn’t completely sure. Since tattooed guys my size make ladies nervous when running excitedly toward them, I wanted to be 100% positive I had the right girl. So I did what guys do – stare. She was visibly uncomfortable from the staring, and didn’t want to make eye contact. In hindsight, this probably didn’t help her be less nervous. Anyway, when I saw the faint blue dot, I finally came over and said hi just as she was reaching in her purse for pepper spray or a machete or a 38 special. Thankfully she recognized me after a bit of looking. We exchanged info and a hug and I managed to not get shot while getting a burrito for my birthday all thanks to that blue dot.

(Editor’s Note: To be fair, Prom Date Will had morphed from a gangly, skinny, lanky hottie boy into a tall, muscle-y, manly hottie man in the years between our reconnection. I’m totally used to weirdos and men with Napoleon complexes approaching me, not normal men who have all their teeth. It was a bit of a shock.)

So why am I guest posting while she is doing her Mojo Jojo challenge? Good question. I haven’t really written much since college and high school English. I did take things seriously in the middle of the last decade, though. I blogged professionally as a side gig for a couple months, which went fairly well. I had my own personal blog for a few years that’s been dormant (and is now not functioning) for years now. I had a couple posts go viral (including the one where I busted a Court TV marketing campaign as referenced here http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/weblog/comments/4261/), which was pretty sweet. Before that, I actually had a couple articles published nationally in a trade magazine. That’s the most impressive way I can think of to say that I guest wrote a couple articles in an insurance magazine for a guy at work. I think I have all three copies that were ever printed of that magazine. One of them donated a page so I could get it framed, and the other two are in a folder somewhere that my wife keeps trying to throw away. Where was I going with this? I hate those ‘meta’ movies about making movies. On to some actual content!

I’m a regular guy. Kind of nerdy. I write software for a living. (Editor’s Note: I fell asleep in that last sentence.) I like beer, football, basketball, and 30 year old trucks. I’ve been married for a couple decades now. My wife has a couple sisters both with whom she’s really close, and now I have a couple daughters. Here’s where this gets relevant – most of the people in my family on a daily basis are women. Girls. Ladies. Penis-less folks. This gives me a lot of insight to women that I didn’t have before.

First thing I noticed is that women are mean to each other, dude. I mean like, really mean. Whoever wrote that bit about women being the fairer sex didn’t spend much time around girls when there are no guys around. Here are a few of the things I’d like to say to all the ladies if I may:

That neurotic feeling that you never look or feel as good as you’re supposed to? You’re doing that to yourselves! If I could wish anything upon the women of the world, it would be to have a positive self-image. Believe me, guys want you to feel good about yourselves. You know how they say the sexiest thing on a guy is confidence? That works both ways. (Editor’s Note: Huh.)
If you have a multi-page checklist of things you gotta have in a significant other, chances are you’re going to have that checklist and no significant other for a long time. Wanting a guy that’s taller than you with decent oral hygiene is one thing. Wanting a guy who’s at least six but no more than nine inches taller than you who also has movie star looks, never been married, an environmentally conscious but still semi-rugged car, a job in senior management, and does marine biology on the side yet lives in Arizona is gonna be a bit tough to find. (Editor’s Note: As long as his name isn’t LeRoy, I’m good. Mostly.)
Here in the American South, the phrase “bless your heart” might as well mean “Go to hell”. Substitute the latter for the former next time, and you’ll most likely come closer to the actual intent of what someone is saying to you. (Editor’s Note: So when snooty snothole at the gym the other day said “bless your heart” she didn’t mean bless my heart?)
Lastly, if you don’t like the way your life is, it’s up to you to change it. (Editor’s Note: Wise words. I dig it.)

You guys can see why I wanted a post from Prom Date Will, right? When he sent it, he wrote: it isn’t great but at least it’s late. Whatever, man. I think it’s great.

Home

03 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Family, Pets

About a year and a half ago, I wrote a post about my Memorial Day weekend. I drove to Madre’s house for that weekend and spent a lot of time with family, sighing and being happy. You can go back and read it if you like, here.

For Thanksgiving this year, I did the same thing. I spent the day with family at Madre’s house, sighing and being happy. Brother Boo came in all the way from Oklahoma City and it was just so nice to see him. Martie and Coach and family were there as was roomie, Kasi Starr. I took a lot of pictures that day. Want to see?

This is Home.

Brother Boo with his manly leaf blower.

Brother Boo with his manly leaf blower in sexy pose.

A walk in the woods.

Rifle Range in the back yard, where I learned to shoot at age 16.

Vicious attack cat, Sonic.

Madre’s favorite horse, her longtime companion, is buried here.

A creek, where we used to play.

Jam session: Boo. Man, can he play.

Jam session: Martie. She’s got a set of pipes on her.

Jam session: Poppa. Listening from a distance.

Jam session: Lucy Loo. One tired pup.

It was such a lovely day. I was so happy. I walked around in an amazed wonder at all the good stuff in my life. Family, friends, beautiful weather. (An aside here -don’t you kind of wish Tennessee could just pick a season and stick with that for a little while, like a month? I’m super happy about the sunshine but I’m getting whiplash with all the back and forth: hot! cold! hot! cold! It’s exhausting.)

There will be a part two to this. I took loads of pictures. It’s like I just discovered my camera or something . . .

Observation

02 Dec 2012 2 Comments

by Love, Jimmie in Imparting Wisdom, This Will Probably Get Me In Trouble Tags: Humor

A word of advice from Jimmie:

If you want to look like a badass with a tatted up neck, rock star jeans, a wallet with a chain and a leather bracelet studded with silver spikes, perhaps you should not visit the grocery store with gauze wrapped all around your neck after getting tattoo work done and wince around the aisles like a whipped puppy dog, clutching your throat every time you move or speak. Doing this will instantly negate all your badassyness and instead make everyone (Jimmie) think you look like a wimp and a moron.

The end.