Momnesia

Alice picks up a wad of flesh-colored cloth: "What is this?"

"That's my son's costume," Dave replies. "He's going to be a muscle-man."

Alice slips it on, to comic effect. The six-pack abs sit up on her chest, making her look like the triple-boob lady from "Total Recall."

There was some discussion about the possibility of him going as Tupac Shakur, but the idea was rejected. However, they are going to draw tattoos on the bodysuit.

"That reminds me of a tattoo I saw on the website Ugliest Tattoos of Biggie and Tupac, but they were birds... like one was red and one was blue... and it was weird," Alice says.

"That is odd," Dave says.

"Why would you make them into animals in the first place?" I ask. "Ooh, unless they were Beta fish."

• If Larry the Cable Guy was a ventriloquist, his dummy would be Al Gore
• He’s not really Dave Coulier from “Full House.” “My wife thinks that one is hilarious.” Trivia: It’s said that Coulier was the inspiration for the Alannis Morisette song “You Outta Know.”
• He has never taken acting classes: “I think I do an okay job. It’s not like I’m makin’ Shakespeare.” Trivia: Hey, some people think that Shakespeare didn’t make Shakespeare.
• His fans are miscategorized. Trivia: “I know you’re trying to be funny,” he said, when asked how many trailers will go into foreclosure after their owners buy tickets to his Augusta show. “But the majority of blue-collar fans make above the minimum of average income.” My bad.
• In his spare time, he studies the history and politics surrounding the Civil War. Trivia: A “copperhead state” was a state that chose neutrality in the conflict. And here I thought that was Switzerland.
• Late at night on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour bus, Larry said that Jeff Foxworthy is a spooner – “but he likes to stick a fork in every now and then.” No word on whether or not Foxworthy is smarter than a redneck.
• Larry drove a black Dodge on a 12-inch lift until he did a mockumentary for country singer Toby Keith’s concert tour. Keith got his tour sponsor to send Larry a new Ford F250 in metallic silver.
• Larry immediately drove his new truck to a friend’s garage, put it up on a six-inch lift and put 35-inch-(somethings – tired? Rims? Squirrels?) on it. He put his old Dodge up for a charity auction for juvenile diabetes and raised $23,000. “And I miss that truck. I almost cried when the guy drove it out of my driveway,” he laughed.

Scott, pausing while channel flipping: "I don't know what they're selling, but I want it."

I look up. It's two elderly women in suits, standing on a parquet floor with microphones, waiting awkwardly for something to happen. I don't even have to think about what they intend.

"They're selling Jesus, honey. I think that's obvious."

K.J.: "So I had a weird experience the other day..."

Me: "Did you get into a car with Bryan, too?"

K.J.: "No! So this guy comes in and asks some questions I told him that he had to talk to Tom Grant. So he comes back a couple days later and says, 'I really liked your nose. Can we get together and talk about advertising?'"
H.O.: "What?"

K.J.: "Right. 'Your nose is cute, I wanna buy an ad.' So I was like 'Well, what kind of business are you in? What are you thinking about advertising?' He said, 'I own and finance company, and I don't know.'"
H.O.: "Whooaa..."

B.O.: "So probably not a good prospect."
K.J.: "Whatever. I'm having lunch with him on Friday. If I don't come back..."

H.O.: "What was his name?"
K.J.: "Mike."
H.O.: "What's his last name?"
K.J.: (shrugs)
H.O.: "You didn't get his last name? Mike what?"
Me: "The Ripper."

AUGUSTA, GA. - So there's video of this incident, but I can't seem to get it to load into the page. Whatever. I passed these folks on the road, and I couldn't help but notice the name of their business.

I had to call.

"Hello?" a man's voice answered.
"Hi, I'm looking for Hooker's Trapping Service," I said.
"This it," he said.
"Great! Listen, how much are the hookers?" I asked.
"What?"
"How much are the hookers?!" I said, louder.
"Well, I dunno. Whatcha got goin' on?" he said.

AUGUSTA, GA. - You know something awesome is going down when a city bus pulls over and a Segway scooter cop comes racing up, followed by a bike cop. Is the driver getting a ticket for speeding? Did the bus hit a pedestrian (again)? Did the Segway driver challenge the bus driver to a street race? They could make a movie called "The Last and the Spurious."

"Man..." started the cop who was writing the citations. "One guy said he could kiss his ass and the other guy said no you kiss my ass and started slapping shit out of him. They all started slapping the shit out of each other so I pulled the bus over..." (scribble scribble) "They were slow or something, I don't know. It was all fucked up."

Unlike those who get to play hacky sack in the office, my days are pretty hectic. I spend a lot of time running around, following other people's schedules, while the rest of the world passes by all "Lah di dah, we're off for a scrumptious sushi lunch with gossip and such while you drive another set of tires off your car."

So it was that I found myself at the office, alone last night, still working feverishly to tabulate our Metro's Best category nominations. Hungry - lunch was baby shower food, which is to say, nothing - I thought I'd splurge and grab some Popeye's chicken.

As I pulled up to the order board at 450 Walton Way, I was greeted with silence.
I waited.
More silence.
I browsed the menu.
More silence.

"HEY!!" I heard, and saw an arm waving frantically at me from the drive-thru window.
"I'm sorry," I said, as I reached her. "Is the intercom broken?"
"Naw. My headset jus' about ta go out," she said. "Whatchoo want?"

What I wanted was to decide from a menu what I'd like to order. I never eat at Popeye's, and this is a perfect example of the damn reason: They can't seem to even take an order in a sensible, polite manner.

"Uh, well, I'd like some chicken strips and rice, please," I said.
"We ain' got no chicken strips," she said. "We got jus' regular chicken."
"Oh, are you closed?!" I said, mortified that I might be keeping these fine employees later than they expected. "You didn't have to serve me if you're closed."
"Yeah. We close at 9," she said.

I looked at the clock. It was 8:25.
I drove away.

AUGUSTA, GA. - It's always interesting to see the new Google keywords report. It's kind of like getting a peek into people's minds. For example, why - in 2008 - are people still searching for "Weekend at Bernie's?" Is Andrew McCarthy back in the news? Did he get arrested for sex with underage midgets or something? And why do so many people suddenly care about barramundi? It's just a fish, people. Also on the list:

at No. 25 - syphillis
at No. 28 - Flugtag, Portland
at No. 74 - 1978 Tony nominations
at No. 84 - racoon skull

Man. The Internets was so cool and sexy just a few years ago. Now it's like sitting around watching your dad read the paper in his boxer shorts.

In case you're wondering, this giant hair dryer is part of Flugtag, which I translate from the Swedish to be a compound word: "flug" + "tag." Alone, they mean "foolish drunkard" and "attempt to touch." Together, the word translates into: "Drowning wish."

So I went to look at a living room suite that a couple had posted on craigslist. I was hoping it was a beautiful blue sleeper set that I had been admiring, and on which the price had been dropping since they first posted it.

It wasn't the same set. It was a nice Lebanese couple in Martinez who were ridding themselves of a hideous turquoise velour set with lovely end and coffee tables. The wife wasn't home, and she was the only one of the two who really spoke English, so I tried to make some small talk. The set wasn't really going to work for me, but I took a photo of the set with my camera and said I'd show them to my husband for approval. Then the man calmly reached over and squeezed my ass. It wasn't subtle; it wasn't accidental. It was deliberate and unapologetic. Yet, somehow there was a gentle nonchalance to it that threw me more than the actual grab. I felt kind of like a cantaloupe in the grocery store.

Knowing that different cultures treat situations like this differently - and recognizing that I was dressed in a manner that highlighted my two best assets, if you know what I'm saying - I chose not to respond, thanked him for his time and left quickly, bidding him "Have a nice day!" Then I called my husband to chortle over the experience. He told me to stop going over to people's houses just because they post something I want on Craigslist. "People have been killed," he warned. "Let me go with you." Agreed.

"At least you know you still got it," A.W. said, when I told her later.
"Well, I'm pretty sure he took a handful of it with him," I replied.

AUGUSTA, GA. - We went down to Aquaduct Park this weekend - both days - to swim and picnic. It's free and it's fun, so there's no reason not to use it. Jumping off rocks into the water, climbing the waterfalls, diving down to look at the fish, rooting on the bottom to find shards of old pottery or spare change that fell out of someone's pocket in 1976... it's nice.

One guy, though, kept climbing around and grunting while shoving things into a plastic bag. I didn't understand what his problem was until I pulled Emmie out in the water on a bright orange inflatable mattress. "Ayyyy," he said to her, eyes wide and mouth grinning. "Oo flow!" She smiled up at him and nodded.

Hey. You float.

He had no problem. He was deaf. He didn't know he was making noises usually reserved for porny 70s "art house" films. He was just enjoying the water and picking up trash along the way.

My husband looked like a chicken dancer at a hockey game trying to communicate with him.
"Hey, the trash?" Scott showed him our own plastic "picnic basket." He gave him a thumbs-up. "Good job, man. Thanks."

"Eyh," the guy said. And made a gesture like he was drinking from a bottle or can. "Dose pepoh!" He chopped down and out with both hands, indicating no tolerance, and pointed up at the rocks surrounding us. "Ow!" He would kick those people out. Heck, yeah.

"My nay iz ess ee ah nn," he said, closed his eyes and concentrated. "Shhan. Shhahn. No. Sean," he said. "Was your nay?" He indicated that Scott should write the letters in the air, which he did, sloppily, while yelling them at Sean. "S! C! O! T! T!" he shouted, and Sean still couldn't hear him. But he understood. "Sot. No. Way." he closed his eyes and concentrated again. "Suh-cott. No." He shook his head in frustration. "De see an kay aw hahd," he said, indicating that those letters are all throat work. C's and K's are hard, buddy. Half the time they make the same sound. After a couple more tries, he got it. Scott spell-shouted my name for him.

"Was heh nay?" Sean asked, pointing at Emerson. Scott started to spell it out in the air again. Screw that. This will take all day. I stopped him and finger-spelled her name in sign. "Gah! No! Wait!" I used the sign for s instead of e. "E-M-M-I-E!"

"Haaaah!" Sean pointed at me, made a gesture for finger spelling, and then blew a raspberry at Scott. We laughed. It's a gesture I make at Scott quite frequently. "Emmie," Sean said, perfectly. "See byooful." Yes, she is, thank you.

"Scott, can't you finger spell?" I asked. Didn't everyone learn that in elementary school?

Apparently not, even though his Aunt Diane is 100% deaf. It's a simple thing. In no way could I expect to have a real conversation with Sean that way (think of conversations where you have to spell things in front of your children. I always get lost mid-word) and yet it made Sean's life that much easier for a few minutes. It wasn't necessary for him to gesticulate comically or try to make himself understood with guttural speech.

So, please, take the time to browse the chart below. It's actually an easier thing to learn than you might think if you say it out loud as you try. That combines both aural and kinesthetic learning. You'll be surprised how long you retain something like this. I mean, even if you only took high school Spanish 15 years ago, don't you at least remember the alphabet? Of course you do. Sign language is no different in learning and retention - but there aren't any online translators to help these folks write their papers. It's a daily struggle in a hearing world, and no matter how hard they try, they're still not going to make it without a little effort on our part.

Speaking of high school Spanish, I had a similar experience later at Teresa's on Walton Way. "Hi!" I said, when I went in to pick up dinner. "Ooh, what's the specials?" The host stepped aside so I could view the board. "Pollo fajita," it read. "Camarones racheros." Chicken fajita. Shrimp rancheros. And something I didn't recognize. "Mojarra frita."

"Excuse me; what is mojarra frita," I asked the host.

He looked at me cautiously: "Eh.. ees feesh, eh, dorado... I sorry. I no speak Eengleesh very well."

"That's okay. So, it's fish fried golden brown?" I asked. He brightened and nodded. Frito means fried, and it was on the menu board. He said fish - that much was useful - and dorado, which mean gold. That was my clue. As it turns out: Mojarra is also known as Pacific Flagfin, a fish I've never heard of. It's defined as any of several species of small, silvery, mainly tropical American marine fishes of the family Gerridae.

This guy was probably fresh out of the cargo hold of some awful coyote, or else he is the green-card-holding distant relative of one of the owners or managers. He was working a crappy job that an American college student would consider beneath them, trying to accomplish what was expected of him with a language barrier taller than any Mexican border fence. As with Sean, my slight ability to interpret what he was trying to say made his life easier for a couple of minutes. He tried hard to hold a conversation in English with me while I was waiting, and I tried to understand the Spanish words he had to rely on. We laughed at each others' mistranslations and at ourselves.

I'm not saying that anyone has to go out and learn Spanish, or vote against a giant wall along the Rio Grande, or relax immigration laws. I'm just saying that a little effort on your part - on my part - makes life easier for others. I've been reminded of that during just one day where I coincidentally encountered two people who communicate in ways that are vastly different both from each other and from the mainstream. I think I should have put a comma somewhere in that last sentence but I can't slow my roll to go back and edit.

I'm going to try my best to remember this when I go into an Asian restaurant and try to ask a question about the menu. Instead of getting irritated, I'm going to smile and try to make the waitress feel more at ease. Maybe her poor English will be improved by one word by they time I leave, and I'll know a little more - say, Chinese - than just "hello, how are you" and "thank you."

Anyway. Thanks for listening to me. I'm just struck by how easy it is to dismiss other people when communication becomes a barrier. I find those situations as exciting as uncharted ocean territory, and I like to explore them.

Here's Your Sign (Language)

AUGUSTA, GA. - Look, large crowds are going to bring out the nutcases. And nutcases, as we all know, are often laden with the crazy-papers, better known as pamphlets, leaflets, or Bible tracts. These are frequently left on tables as tips for servers who don't understand why every cent that a true believer makes must be put into the cause, even to the detriment of the beer money for other people.

But at First Friday in March, I got a pamplet that proves that the pamphlet industry has become far too competitive. Apprently al of the Anti-Abortion, Pro-Death Penalty and Try Our Chicken Wings They're the Breast in Town manners of mental littering were currently unavailable on the field of play. Enter the second string, which brought forth a call from Jebus himself: "Just for you: Dealing With Foul Language" sayeth the Lawd.




This pull-quote box really sums up the entire reason to waste this defenseless piece of paper: "Only God can clean up your speech," it says. Because free will apparently has fudge-all to do with it.

So, we were at the Beasley Broadcasting Christmas Party in December. It was a lovely soiree at Enterprise Mill, all nice but middle-brow with smoked salmon and roasted pork loin sliced very thin. Beer and wine, no mixed drinks. That kind of thing. Very Augusta, in other words.

The tables were scattered with STUFFED SNOWMEN (because they work at a Hallmark store and stuff??? ) and sparkly gold and silver holiday greeting confetti. Or so we thought. Until Mary Liz unfurled one of the glittering gems.

AUGUSTA, GA. - This guy cut me off so sharply on Riverwatch Parkway one morning as I was coming into work that I had to run all up on the shoulder. And there's only about 2 inches of space between the edge of the road and the guard rail on that highway. He was going about 90 mph in a 55 mph zone, weaving in and out of traffic like a freak, and continued his attempts to kill himself and take out half of the commuting workers in Augusta through downtown's main thoroughfare. Oddly enough, even though he cut me off - scaring me so badly that I had to stop and compose myself before continuing to work - and despite the fact that he was going nearly 40 miles an hour faster than I was, I still ended up RIGHT BEHIND HIM when we got down to Broad Street.

Frickin' idiot.

AUGUSTA, GA. - So I was driving down Furys Ferry Road between Riverwatch and Washington a few weeks ago, having just picked Emmie up from day care. A car swerved in the lane beside me and the windows rolled down. Some high school student, guffawing, leaned out and began to shoot photos of me. I have no idea why.

Click here to watch the video captured by a student's cell phone.

AUGUSTA, GA. - A Stephenson High School (Lithonia, Ga.) substitute teacher and a tenth-grade student have been charged for fighting each other on the last day of school. A cell phone camera captured the entire incident.

The fight happened Friday, May 23 on the last day of school. According to an incident report, the two had been having conflicts all day. The teacher, listed as Carolyn Jones, said she overheard the student saying she was going to pull Jones' wig off. The 53-year-old said she took the wig off herself and told the student that she would have to protect herself if the student messed with her.

The brawl was caught on another student's cell phone camera. Police are still reviewing the video to see if Jones acted in self-defense and who started the fight. But the incident report states that it was the teacher who kicked the student in the leg as she was heading out the door, possibly starting the altercation.

At one point on the tape it appears the teacher takes off a shoe and begins hitting the student with it.

The report also indicated both the teacher and student walked away with scratches on their faces.

DeKalb County school police have charged Jones and the student with disorderly conduct. The school said the tenth-grader may also face further disciplinary action.(more)

AUGUSTA, GA. - Courtney Prouty, an account executive at Mass Media Marketing in Augusta, Ga., said that she was one of the lucky few to be at the Soul Bar the Wednesday night of Masters Week 2003.

"Everyone was thrilled to be there; the bar had been closed down for several weeks because of fire damage, and this was the re-opening night."

Things got heated with actor/musician Jim Belushi arrived.

"He came in for a few drinks and even ended up getting onstage with the band to do a few numbers; afterwards, he hung out for a bit with a lady friend. He seemed personable; if you said 'hello' to him, he'd say 'hello' back," Prouty said.

Some rumors swirled around the community that Belushi was involved in a brief altercation with a heckler of some kind at the bar. Stories range from a brief verbal exchange to broken bottles and threats. Soul Bar co-owner Jayson Rubio denied it ever happened. But some people claim to have been eye-witnesses.

Inside sources - like the guy who was actually tending bar that night - said that a bar patron bought Jim Belushi a beer, but the actor said he'd had enough to drink. When he gave it to another patron, the buyer got angry. A verbal confrontation ensued. The source claims that was the extent of the incident.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Every year, the Master’s Golf Tournament attracts a wide variety of celebrities. This year marks the first appearance of the Golfing Jesus Doll™. The seven-foot version, a creation of Lana Long, known as the Jesus Doll Lady, has exchanged the regal white robe for the Master’s green one and holds a golf club. One press on the heart and the song “Jesus Loves Me” is heard.

Lana Long, originally from Denver, Colorado where she attended school, has made Augusta home since she was twelve. The inspiration for the Jesus Dolls came in 1983 when she was looking for a way to raise money to buy toys for abused and needy children. Today she owns 30 copyrights and produces multiple sizes of Jesus Dolls that she gives away and sells at thejesusdolls.net.

“What a perfect place for the Master,” Lana said. “Right here at the golf tournament.”

Her display is located at 2737 Washington Road, walking distance from the tournament gates, where they’ll be from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. each day of the tournament.

The Jesus Dolls Co., Inc., is dedicated to teaching everyone that they are loved by God and Jesus, regardless of their circumstances or lot in life. We share this message with the world by making handcrafted Jesus dolls and providing spiritual guidance for those in need. Lana was the originator of the Jesus doll and was the first to make it available for the public.

A.W.: "I was driving down the road and I saw Jeff Thomas walking down the street, so I leaned out the window and screamed, 'F--- you, Jeff Thomas!'"
But then he turned around, and it wasn't Jeff Thomas.
A.W.: "I was like, 'Ohmygod I am so sorry!"
The guy turned around and said, "Hey, I'm from up North. That's like a standard greeting."
A.W.: "I was so mortified."