billy bob is not my neighbor, he’s just a guy…
i sit on my porch, listening to thriller on vinyl, and drinking a beer…
the neighbors are outside and hear my music…
one of them comes over and says: ‘it’s a sad day, isn’t it?’
me: ‘why?’
neighbor: ‘ah…michael jackson died.’
me: ‘what?!?’
neighbor: ‘i thought that’s why you were listening to thriller!’
me: ‘haha, no it is. i’m just messing with you.’
neighbor: ‘oh, ha. ah…i live next door. my name is jim.’
me: ‘hey jim. what the fuck you doing on my lawn?’
russell lays out the gospel…
drinking at the pig with russ, sam, tyler, becky and myself:
russ: ‘look, i’ll tell you about jesus. first herod acquitted him, then pilate acquitted him, then blah blah blah…then: where’s jesus mother fuckers?!?!?’
shoe resoled, vol. 45…
see bottom of page…
text message convos, vol. 7…
the text message conversations between ben and i from september 18th, 2008 through may, 14th, 2009:
me: ‘at a braves game and missing you.’
me: ‘you get texts? call me.’
me: ‘ben!’
me: ‘ben!’
me: ‘god fucking damnit. i miss you man.’
me: ‘ben!!’
me: ‘hey bastard. call me.’
me: ‘i’m a cherry ghost.’
me: ‘ho ho.’
me: ‘i’m at a wilco concert in oxford.’
me: ‘dude.’
notice who is missing from this conversation…
bastard.
and the winner is…
a local newspaper here in oxford called ‘the local voice’ recently had a city wide voting campaign for the local favorites…
and i won 4% of the vote in the ‘favorite clergy/minister’ category!
also receiving 4% of the vote: jesus!
the winner, with 15% of the vote, was tyler, the bartender at my favorite pub, the blind pig…
when i walked in today, he apologized for taking my votes…
me: ‘that’s cool man. it’s been my experience that bartenders make better ministers anyway.’
language barrier…
me and some of my youth are serving a meal for a local hispanic worship service…
a mother and son come to the table to get some lasagne…
me: ‘be careful, that plate is…’
i look to one of my kids: ‘how do you say hot in spanish?’
jake: ‘ah…caliente.’
me: ’siete?’
jake: ‘no, that’s seven. caliente.’
me: ‘i thought that was sientate.’
jake: ‘no, that means sit down.’
me: ‘what was the word, calamari?’
jake: ‘caliente.’
me, to mother and son: ‘that plate is very caliente!’
taylor: ‘actually, you just told them the plate is very spicy.’
me, again to mother and son: ‘yes, the plate is very spicy.’
they laugh at me…
me: ‘yeah, i can’t speak spanish. no habla spanish. sorry.’
the unauthorized, uncut ending to dawson’s creek…
i wrote this the day after the show ended…