SUNDAY, AUGUST 1, 2004
On the day after, we rested. My arms were d-e-a-d, dead, so tired I couldn�t even move (pun intended). I was working exclusively on muscle memory. My appendages could recall how to shovel food into my mouth and steer the car. Other than that they were flaps attached to my shoulders that served little purpose.
No one was in a hurry to get the day started, even though the girls and I all woke up at 9 a.m. and Nana made us a breakfast unworthy of our efforts! Scott trudged out of bed when I woke him up at noon, though I�m pretty sure he could have gone another few hours like Jenn, who couldn�t make it over to join us at Cozymel�s, a Tex-Mex restaurant nearby.
I�m beginning to wonder if living in Atlanta has made me jaded to niceties, so much so that I was told I was being haughty to the waiter at Cozymel�s when he didn�t deliver to my wishes. In other words, he failed to fill my drink for several minutes while it sat empty. My side of it: this isn�t brain surgery and he only had two tables. First and foremost, keep my drink refilled. But my pithy comments were taken as condescension by my tablemates. I tried not to gloat shortly after when the waiter finally did bring a pitcher of water, then spilled my glass all over the table, leaking on Scott and Nana to my right. Now you see why I questioned the quality of service. If that�s condescending, I admit that I�m just too hard to please nowadays.
After lunch we bade goodbye to Stacy and Stephanie and they drove back to Louisville. Jenn and Tippy came by shortly after, and we went to the plush Muvico Paradiso theater to see The Village. Good bud, Steven, joined us a few minutes after it started but didn�t miss much. The dialogue was circular and obvious so it wasn�t hard to hear the same sentences every ten minutes. Where can I cash in my Overgrown Porcupines Aren't Scary stock? Shyamalan wants his films to be creepy - and there are a couple of tense scenes - and for us to get a kick out of the twist; how he gets there doesn�t seem to be as important anymore. It�s a very strange movie and ultimately I recommend it, but had to laugh when the ending turned out to be something similar to what I had joked about two days before. Either I think like Shyamalan, or he's getting too pedestrian in his writing.
MONDAY, AUGUST 2, 2004
More hanging out today, contributing nothing to society. At Wal-Mart I noticed that local school supply lists are up front for parents to easily see what the store can help supply as long as they don�t have to pay above minimum wage. (I kid. I love Wal-Mart and it's low, low prices of cheap plastic.)
When I was in school we were given brown paper to wrap cover our books for protection from the elements (rain, dust, peanut butter and jelly). My classmates could easily conform the paper into neat pockets, while I had to resort to a full roll of tape in order to keep the paper on the book. Nowadays, however, store shelves carry glossy covers with pictures. Where�s the fun in that? With the paper bags we could doodle during class. I'd fill half the back with �I Love Susan� five times the first six weeks, then other half with �I Love Micah� ten times the next six weeks to prove I fancied her more. By Christmas you had to get new covers because the paper was either completely covered or frayed beyond repair.
Down the street from Wal-Mart we stopped by Men�s Wearhouse so I could say hey to Kimberly, and introduce the legend of the Superstar Diva � Extraordinaire to Scott. Afterwards he said it�s too bad Kimberly and I didn�t hit it off as a couple because she compliments me perfectly in looks and personality, more than any girl he�s seen with me. I thought that was nice and I�m sure Kimberly would think so, too, once she takes a long bath to get rid of the stench.
Kidding! She adores me. I know because of the cameras hidden in her living room.
At 6 p.m., me, Scott and Jenn drove to the Russell residence in Cordova to pick up Steve�s bubbly honey, Jenny. There we met up with Steve, his cousin (and Scott�s bud) Eric and his wife, Leah, at WMC Channel 5 (also my former employer). From there it's a hop, skip and a jump downtown to AutoZone Park, home of the Memphis Redbirds, St. Louis' AAA affiliate. Not that it matters, but the Redbirds were taking on Salt Lake.
Steven had sweet WMC tickets in the Club Level, similar to the Lexus Level at Turner Field. It features a food court indoors amid air-conditioning, Internet kiosks that overheat and stop working by the third inning and cleaner bathrooms. Did I mention air-conditioning? Would I have survived 100 years ago in the South? Maybe, if I were rich enough to afford those big blocks of ice delivered daily, chunks of which I could carry around to sit on, looking like I peed in my pants be darned.
The twist with our tickets is that there were only six good for the Club Level, and one other ticket for normal folks down below. Naturally, the three couples get the six Club seats, and the single guy (yep, me again) is out of luck. It took Steven flapping his eyes at the Club Level ticket-taker lady to sweet talk a pass for me to join everyone in the plush seats. What a pal! I take back everything negative I ever said about you, such as, "he's just too good at softball" and "If only he didn't snag a babe two weeks into college."
In case you're not from the area, Memphis is world famous for its pork barbecue, the best on the planet. There is no debate here; you either agree with me or never talk to me again. That said, as Memphis has upgraded its sports teams, adding the NBA Grizzlies and the Redbirds, a glorious new food was introduced to the masses, barbecue nachos. Even if you hate sports these are worth the effort. Good times.
The game was close and entertaining, but not near as much as fun as what happened later in the stands. A few rows in front of us a pair of grandparents brought their grandchild to the game. Very sweet, sure. The grandfather continually played with the kid, although a few times he picked him up precariously close to the railing and Eric kept wondering if we were going to witness a Michael Jackson moment.
In the late innings Salt Lake intentionally walked a Redbird, compelling the grandfather to angrily call out �bullsh*t!� You know what's coming, don't you? Not a good idea, indeed, and apparent to all of our group, the group beside us and the group down to our right. We all looked at each other, knowing ... wait for it ... everyone anticipated ... sure enough, a few seconds later the grandson, who couldn�t have been more than five, laughingly calls out, �bullsh*t!� Giggling, he asks his grandmother if it�s okay, while our entire section is roaring with laughter. I'm pretty sure the grandfather wasn't going to need his Viagra that night.
Speaking of bad news, the ABF truck driver called Scott and Jenn�s cell phone during the game to tell them that the load shifted and the bulkhead holding in their stuff tipped loose. No, Scott told him, we could not fix it ourselves because we�re three hours away in Memphis. Instead, the company called back a few minutes later to say they would just erect a stronger barrier and not charge for the extra few feet now taken up by the shifted load. Somehow I'm sure this won't get the truck to Waco any sooner.
Not that it matters but Memphis lost, 3-2, on a bonehead throw by the shortstop in the top of the ninth. In the bottom half, the Redbirds manager made a miscalculation I�m far too knowledgeable about as a Red Sox fan with Terry Francona as manager. With a runner on first and no outs, the Memphis skipper didn�t bunt the runner to first. This is normal protocol, I promise, to get the runner into scoring position. The batter ends up hitting into a double-play, followed by the next batter rifling a single that would�ve scored the runner who would have been on second following a sacrifice bunt. Now there's a runner on first with two out and the next hitter pops up to end the game. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, but basic stuff when you watch �Baseball Tonight� on ESPN.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 3, 2004
We�re still in Memphis, not hastening our way to Waco just yet. Scott, Jenn and Tippy spent the afternoon renting a Toyota Corolla for the drive ahead, and I spent the afternoon with Kimberly. We had lunch at Memphis Pizza Caf� on Overton Square, providing the opportunity for meet to finally meet Kimberly�s friend and new roommate, Amy. Naturally, Amy was immediately smitten by me and joins the long list of women who can�t wait to go out with me. Stop laughing. It could be true.
(When/if I finally get a girlfriend again, I'm going to be insufferably cocky. "That's right, I act like this and still got a woman to appear in public with me!")
After lunch we drove down Poplar towards downtown and the original Pop Tunes record store, famous for its connection to Elvis Presley. Next to Lauderdale Courts (now Uptown Square) where Elvis lived as a teen, there are pictures of the King shopping and hanging out in the store, so much so that it�s a regular stop on Elvis tours. No doubt this is where he wrote �(You're the) Devil in Disguise,� knowing me and Kimberly would be there 50 years later. Oh yes, we walk like angels. We even talk like angels. We�re not the way we seem, indeed.
(OK, I made that one up. Just wanted to see if you were still awake.)
|
 |
|
Sydney passes along some Texas sayings, such as "Always drink upstream from the herd."
|
That night I met up with Sydney and we jetted south of the border to Southaven, Miss�ippi, meeting up with her friend Tammy to see The Manchurian Candidate. I initially avoided seeing the movie, but with someone like Syd it's worth the effort despite knowing ahead of time that today's Hollywood would pin the evil on �right-wing demons� who scare the left coast far more than, oh, say, Islamofascist terrorists. The things I do for friendship. Or at least in a desperate attempt to have people hang out with me, no matter the personal costs like having my beliefs trashed.
I just don�t feel I have the stomach to review The Manchurian Candidate on my Movie Reviews site. The original is a classic not to be trifled or tinkered with, and most of the reason I�m still throwing up in my mouth over the 2004 version is the current Hollywood mindset. In 1962, the original�s evil enemy was Communism. Nowadays, to Tinseltown the malicious adversary is the capitalism of global corporations (gee, could this be a Halliburton reference?).
Is it ironic that for a film about recognizing the dangers of brainwashing, the movie is so full of liberal ideology to be considered subversive? Director Jonathan Demme didn�t even try to be coy about it. For God�s sake, he let Al freakin� Franken go on one of his Air America spiels for two whole minutes while pretending to be a �reporter.� Meryl Streep probably thinks she was channeling John Ashcroft in her �take no prisoners� approach to politics but she really just came across as the more believably wicked and soulless Hillary Clinton. Even the TV news programs with hideous graphics shown over and over came complete with liberal dogma crawling on the ticker.
When we got back to Sydney�s, her four-month old yellow lab puppy had gone poopy in one of the back bedrooms. Even her dog has a better sense of subtlety than Demme.
Time to go to Texas ...
