Bean and cornbread supper

Surprisingly enough, I wasn't always the hip and cool person that I am now. Some of the activities of my youth might have been considered dorky. For example, I played the tuba in band. I know it's what today's cool kids want to play, but way back then it wasn't quite so awesome.

In January or February of every year, our school bands put on a concert in the school cafeteria. A dinner of beans and cornbread was included in the price, and it was also the very first concert for the 6th grade beginner band.

When I was in 6th grade I was a little on the small side. It's safe to say that the tuba probably outweighed me at that time. However, that wasn't an issue because I didn't actually have to hold the tuba. It sat on some brackets that were attached to a chair, and I just sat there and played.

At the concert we didn't have our tuba chairs, so we had to hold them for the first time. Most marching tubas have a pad strapped to it in the area where the tuba meets the shoulder; however, these did not. And again, I was trying to hold up more than my body weight on my left shoulder.

So I struggled. Several times during the first song, it looked as if I was going to tip over and crash to the ground. And I probably would have if one of the dads hadn't walked up from the audience to stand behind me and hold the tuba up.

Was that a hip or cool moment in my life? Probably not, but it was better than if I had dropped the tuba.

King of all Dance Land

I have a new nickname, and unlike the one I'm called at work (Awesome Don), it's not one I gave myself.

The other day I was in the grocery store with my girlfriend and her daughters, and the store was playing music over the PA system. One of the songs played was I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys. Naturally, I sang along and got down with my bad self.

The 6 year old daughter looked at me and asked, "Why are you dancing? Are you the king of all dance land?"

I am now.

That time I won Lance Armstrong's Ride for the Roses

Several years ago, Lance Armstrong and his buddies would have a friendly bike race in the Austin area with the winner being awarded a dozen roses. They called it the Ride for the Roses. Later, it became a charity race to support those fighting cancer, and since then it has been expanded into the LIVESTRONG Challenge. Back in the late 90's when it was still the Ride for the Roses charity race, I was actually the first to cross the finish line.

One Saturday, my friend Henry and I went on a short 100 mile bike ride. In fact, it was so short it was closer to 30 miles. On one part of the ride, the right lane of the road had been blocked off with pylons and motorcycle cops were spaced along the route. At a stoplight we asked one of the cops why the lane was blocked off. He said that it was part of the route for the Ride for the Roses, and that the cyclists should be riding through soon. We thanked him and continued on our ride.

We came over a hill and saw that the banner for the finish line was a few hundred yards away with a small crowd awaiting the riders. We decided to race to the line and took off. As we got closer, the crowd noticed us and started cheering because they believed we were actual participants in the race.

As I crossed the finish line first, the crowd roared, flashbulbs popped, and I raised my arm triumphantly!

And we just kept on riding.

I guess you could say we idiot proofed them

I don't drink, not because I think it's evil, but more because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't handle it well. Since I don't, I can't blame anything on alcohol. The stupid things I say and do can mostly be blamed on ... well, stupidity.

Several years ago, I was a software developer at IBM. My department worked on the floor control software for the RS/6000 manufacturing line. One portion of the line was called the pickpack area. In this section the operators would put the loose materials into the box: the mouse, documentation, support disks, etc. However, we got frequent complaints from customers because necessary items had been left out of the box.

So, my department implemented a very nice scanning system in that area. The scanners had small LCD screens on them. The operators would scan in the serial number of machine, and a list of pickpack items that needed to be placed in the box would be displayed. When they scanned in an item before placing it in the box, it would be removed from the list. After it was implemented, the plant manager made an appearance on the floor and even scanned in a few items.

At the end of the year, my department was making a presentation to the plant manager. My part was to present the department's significant accomplishments that year. And one of those was the scanners in the pickpack area.

When I mentioned that accomplishment, the plant manager commented that he was impressed with how well the scanners worked because even he was able to work them.

And without thinking (obviously), I replied, "Oh, I guess you could say we idiot proofed them."

A collective hush fell over the group and a few gasps were heard. I immediately continued with my presentation thinking, "Well, maybe he didn't hear me."

After the department presentation was done, the plant manager thanked us and talked about all he learned from it. He concluded his list with, "And I learned that Mr. Young is obviously independently wealthy or else he wouldn't risk his job like that."

So I guess he did hear me.

But at least he knew who I was. :)

The Hannah Montana Karaoke Sing-along and Petting Zoo

My girlfriend has a theory: when an ex-husband who was typically delinquent suddenly starts showing an interest in his child it's probably because he has a new girlfriend. After all, he has to impress the new woman with his dedication and commitment.

A couple of weeks ago a friend's daughter was having a birthday party. The ex-husband asked if he could plan the party and have it at his house. The mom was skeptical, but would never turn down his offer to do something for his daughter. (And yes, the ex-husband had a new girlfriend.)

So he planned a Hannah Montana karaoke party. Not a bad idea, if you assume the daughter was a Hannah Montana fan ... although that assumption was incorrect. However, the bigger issue that was pointed out to him was that the party was also going to have little boys in attendance, and the odds were pretty high that they were definitely not Hannah Montana fans.

So what would they like to do at the birthday party? A petting zoo, of course.

Thus, the first ever Hannah Montana Karaoke Sing-along and Petting Zoo birthday party. Where else could you pet a goat, ride a pony, and sing Best of Both Worlds?

I'd like some ham on that burger please

Texadelphia is a restaurant chain in Texas and Oklahoma featuring cheesesteak sandwiches and other items. There are several locations in the Austin area; however, one of them is very close to where I work, and I visit it frequently. In fact, when the cooks see me walk in the door, they start making my food before I even order because I am a creature of habit. I'm not sure if that is really cool or really sad. I'm going with "really cool."

Earlier this week I was picking up lunch and noticed a seasonal item on the menu: The Veggie Cheesesteak. The sandwich is made of cheese, peppers, mushrooms, and various other vegetables that I don't like on a 6" whole wheat roll.

So I was thinking: can you really call it a cheeseSTEAK sandwich if it doesn't have any meat? That's like getting a HAMburger without any ham.

Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

Growing up, I constantly corrected the grammatical mistakes of my friends. I was even given the nickname The Master Grammarian. It wasn't a compliment. :) Luckily, I've learned to let things go as I've matured.

Perhaps not.

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend who shall remain nameless. We were discussing her current relationship because I'm such an expert. (Yes, that was sarcasm.) She mentioned that the behavior of her significant other had improved greatly after a long talk, although he still had a "stupid moment" or two. However, she said stupid moments are part of being a man so she was going to give him some "leadway."

I paused, thinking, and decided to point out her mistake, "Don't you mean leeway?"

She laughed and said, "You couldn't just let it go, could you?"

I said, "I would have, but you just insulted my gender and called us stupid."

Sweet, delicious irony. :)

It's another name for a cat

NOTE: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. But I'm still Don because I'm not that innocent.

This past Sunday I was at my girlfriend's house doing some computer work and lounging around. Mostly lounging around. She had let her dog outside to go do dog things, but she later realized that the dog had gotten out. I'm no detective, but more than likely she got out through the open gate.

I jumped in my car to drive around the neighborhood and look for the dog. Riding with me was my girlfriend's almost 6 year old daughter (we'll call her Felicia) and the 8 year old daughter of the next door neighbor (we'll call her Amanda). I gave them each the job of sitting in the back seat and looking out their respective window so that they could help.

Felicia was concerned for the dog and in her nervousness proceeded to talk non-stop, saying things like, "Oh, there's an open gate. Maybe she's in that backyard. I think that mean lady across the street called the pound. I hope she's not at the pound, they'll be mean to her. What if she went in someone's garage and they kept her? Maybe we should ask those people if they saw a dog? What if she's cold and scared?"

For that last comment I replied, "It's 106 degrees outside, she's not cold."

Felicia continued, "What if she's at the lake and she gets in the water and can't swim?"

Amanda replied, "Oh, all dogs can swim. Well, unless she's a p*ssy."

Yes, she said the p-word. At this point I nearly ran off the road. I wasn't sure what to do since she wasn't my kid. Plus, I didn't want to overreact because I was thinking that if I let her know she said a bad word she'd just want to say it more. And I wondered if she really knew how bad that word was.

Felicia wondered something as well. She asked Amanda, "What's that mean?"

Amanda replied, "Oh, it's another name for a cat. And cats can't swim."

That worked for me.

I may be right, but I'm also hungry

When I'm paying cash for anything and I don't have the exact amount, I like to give what seems like an unusual amount so that I can get the fewest number of coins back. For example, if the total is $4.86, and I don't have 86 cents, I'll give $5.11 so that I can get a quarter back. An added benefit is the look of confusion in the face of the cashier when I hand them the unusual amount.

One Saturday morning, many years ago, I was on my way to work, and I decided to stop for breakfast. I'm not really a fan of Burger King, but it was very close to my apartment, so I hit the drive-thru for a breakfast sandwich and a drink.

My total was $2.79. I gave the cashier $2.84 expecting a nickel back. She proceeded to give me 4 pennies back as change. I stared at the change, looked back at her, and asked, "Uh, excuse me. I gave you $2.84."

She replied, "No, you gave me $2.83."

I thought, "Now why would I give her 3 extra pennies just to get 4 back?" And I also knew that I gave her 4 pennies --- not 3 --- and that she was a big stinky poopy. So I muttered some obscenities under my breath and roared out of the drive-thru in anger.

I calmed down on the 15 minute drive to work. However, as I sat in my office I was still thinking about how right I was. Then I realized something.

I never got my food.

I had two options: 1) slink back to Burger King and get my food, or 2) forget about it and learn a $2.84 lesson in anger management. Or a $2.83 lesson if you believe the cashier. I went with option 2, and I've never gone back to that Burger King.

The Big Easy

My incredibly handsome twin brother just returned from a business trip to New Orleans. The Big Easy. And although he and his coworkers don't have time to go sightseeing, he did make it to Bourbon Street briefly.

He said there are four types of businesses on Bourbon Street: restaurants, bars, souvenir shops, and adult-themed businesses. Sometimes they combine two of them and end up with a restaurant and a souvenir shop.

And I thought, "You know, if they had an adult-themed souvenir shop, someone could buy a vibrator that said, 'Welcome to the Big Easy!'"

:)