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Ten years ago, my brother T-Bob married a Russian woman. Five short years later, two babies joined the crew.
Today the tykes—Alexander and Anastasia, better known as Sasha and Ana--are 6 years old. Their favorite activity is screaming. In Russian.
Today the tykes—Alexander and Anastasia, better known as Sasha and Ana--are 6 years old. Their favorite activity is screaming. In Russian.
I remember my first time. It was just like yesterday.
No, more like Thursday, actually. That’s when it finally happened.
No, more like Thursday, actually. That’s when it finally happened.
I’m a big man who likes his Big Eats. It’s not worth eating if you can’t eat it big.
I like to talk about food. A lot. Big Food.
I like to talk about food. A lot. Big Food.
To the Citizens of Berkeley County:
Virginia Woolf said it was money and a room of one’s own (i.e., a sanctuary in which to work or dream.)
Gloria Steinem—‘memba her?--said the key to happiness is a sense of purpose.
Gloria Steinem—‘memba her?--said the key to happiness is a sense of purpose.
Whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness either never had it or just took it too seriously. With enough money, you can, in fact, buy a lot of happiness, or rather, peace of mind, which is a very clearly marked and well-paved route to happiness.
You just have to do it right.
You just have to do it right.
I’m sure you saw the recent story about the woman trainer, a USC alumni who was killed by a Killer Whale at Orlando’s Sea World.
We have all made the comments about the obvious danger everybody seems to ignore when it comes to frolicking around a big, deep pool with a two-ton mammal that comes with a mammoth mouth and very big teeth who coincidentally has the word “Killer” as its first name.
We have all made the comments about the obvious danger everybody seems to ignore when it comes to frolicking around a big, deep pool with a two-ton mammal that comes with a mammoth mouth and very big teeth who coincidentally has the word “Killer” as its first name.
I woke up last week with my throat feeling like I’d swallowed broken glass. Then I coughed up what appeared to be a chunk of lung, sneezed and cracked a rib.
Yes, the funk done fell upon me. Like the wag once said, first I was afraid I’d die. Then I was afraid I wouldn’t.
Yes, the funk done fell upon me. Like the wag once said, first I was afraid I’d die. Then I was afraid I wouldn’t.
The story you are about to read is true. In fact, I’m astonished I’m still around to write about it. It’s funny how a passing decade turns a nightmare into a fond memory. Sort of…
Mike cranked into a high octane riff, that Marshall JCM 800 stack screaming like a wounded banshee. I came in right behind him on the dual guitar lead break, my trusty old Carvin Blues Tube roaring right under Mike’s ball peen hammer-like riffs.
Mike cranked into a high octane riff, that Marshall JCM 800 stack screaming like a wounded banshee. I came in right behind him on the dual guitar lead break, my trusty old Carvin Blues Tube roaring right under Mike’s ball peen hammer-like riffs.
This weekend I got to be a rock and roll star.
This was my second weekend reconnecting with new/old friends I’d never met. These were classmates in college way back in the late seventies and early eighties that, except for a couple of beer drinking buddies, I never hung out with, never did stuff with, and certainly never talked to.
This was my second weekend reconnecting with new/old friends I’d never met. These were classmates in college way back in the late seventies and early eighties that, except for a couple of beer drinking buddies, I never hung out with, never did stuff with, and certainly never talked to.
This morning I had black coffee and tomato paste for breakfast. I’m not crazy yet, but it’s coming.
What I’m trying to do is follow the latest recommendations for healthy eating. Let’s see if I’m up to date:
What I’m trying to do is follow the latest recommendations for healthy eating. Let’s see if I’m up to date:
One almost never sees a snowman standing next to a palm tree.
So I am glad to report that I have, in fact, witnessed such a phenomenon. Even took a picture of it.
So I am glad to report that I have, in fact, witnessed such a phenomenon. Even took a picture of it.
It snowed last night. It hasn’t snowed here in ten years. It’s not supposed to snow here. This is the beach. It’s supposed to be warm. Sunny. No snow.
I have a favorite colorful adjective that I am often known to use during times of duress, stress, disbelief and shock and awe. I have been known to quite often use this colorful adjective as a comma or hyphen in the course of my daily oral recitations.
I have a favorite colorful adjective that I am often known to use during times of duress, stress, disbelief and shock and awe. I have been known to quite often use this colorful adjective as a comma or hyphen in the course of my daily oral recitations.
It’s currently midway through the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl.
The Colts are up 17-16, albeit tenuously, and the Saints are inside the ten yard line.
The Colts are up 17-16, albeit tenuously, and the Saints are inside the ten yard line.
Hair is supposed to be a woman’s crowning glory. Mine’s more like a cross to bear.
I hate going to the beauty parlor. (Excuse me, hair salon.) But I also get sick of single-handedly beating my hair into submission. Sometimes I need a little help.
I hate going to the beauty parlor. (Excuse me, hair salon.) But I also get sick of single-handedly beating my hair into submission. Sometimes I need a little help.
There’s something telling about a person who watches the Super Bowl largely for the commercials rather than the game. It’s probably not very flattering, though, so I’m not going to admit to that right here.
Nonetheless, it is astounding how one sixty-minute football game has become such a lengthy, glitzy, over-the-top affair, to the point where the game is actually secondary to the rest of the show.
Nonetheless, it is astounding how one sixty-minute football game has become such a lengthy, glitzy, over-the-top affair, to the point where the game is actually secondary to the rest of the show.
On Saturday, I led a workshop for 47 teachers who filled a law office conference room in Columbia. Teachers from every level and subject area traveled from all corners of the state to attend so they could work together to share their expertise and experience as candidates for National Board Certification.
On my drive back to home, I decided that I must weigh in on current discussions about the state program that supports this teacher development.
On my drive back to home, I decided that I must weigh in on current discussions about the state program that supports this teacher development.
It’s Valentine’s Day again? Already?
Didn’t we just do this last year?
Didn’t we just do this last year?
Have you ever laughed at someone’s misfortune and then hated yourself?
I had a spell of self-hatred last week. Widdle and I were eating almonds on the sofa when he mentioned that a man he’d known for years had broken up with his wife.
I had a spell of self-hatred last week. Widdle and I were eating almonds on the sofa when he mentioned that a man he’d known for years had broken up with his wife.
As Dirty Harry once said, “Man’s got to know his limitations.”
Mine appear to be plumbing and electrical work. And carpentry. And tile. And…
Mine appear to be plumbing and electrical work. And carpentry. And tile. And…
It’s February.
If you’re like me, the New Year’s resolution to lose weight is about to get chucked. Mine already has.
If you’re like me, the New Year’s resolution to lose weight is about to get chucked. Mine already has.
“You’re odd,” my husband said last night.
I froze with my fingers in the mustard jar.
I froze with my fingers in the mustard jar.
By the time you finish reading this, you may very well want to check into the nearest padded hotel, if not murder me in my sleep.
It’s time once again to exorcize a few demons and the only way to do that is to write about them. Then I can go to sleep, confident that while I still have them, at least now so do you.
It’s time once again to exorcize a few demons and the only way to do that is to write about them. Then I can go to sleep, confident that while I still have them, at least now so do you.
It is a sad commentary when a man can say he’s set himself on fire more than once.
I succeeded in the self-combustion exercise, if you call smoldering as being officially on fire.
I succeeded in the self-combustion exercise, if you call smoldering as being officially on fire.
Can you believe the uproar on the boob tube?
Late night talk show hosts have turned into sulky little boys. Conan O’Brien is Dennis the Menace, refusing to accept a later time slot. He’s taking his marbles and going home. Jay is the Beav, pouting because his 10 p.m., five-nights-a-week experiment crashed and burned.
Late night talk show hosts have turned into sulky little boys. Conan O’Brien is Dennis the Menace, refusing to accept a later time slot. He’s taking his marbles and going home. Jay is the Beav, pouting because his 10 p.m., five-nights-a-week experiment crashed and burned.
So far 2010 is my year of epiphanies.
It’s amazing how so quickly and in so short a time, so many things have become so crystal clear.
It’s amazing how so quickly and in so short a time, so many things have become so crystal clear.
I recently read a book about American consumerism. It said we are what we buy, that where we spend our money reveals our priorities and, sometimes, our morals.
That may be true, but I think you can also learn a lot by what people DON’T have.
That may be true, but I think you can also learn a lot by what people DON’T have.
Sitting in a battered, ancient blue shoebox rests a packet of letters, cards and notes from years I tend to relegate, like the box itself, to some corner shelf in some basement closet of my mind.
Periodically, I run across that box, maybe during a spring-cleaning, maybe while in search of some completely unrelated item. Each time I find it, I blow off the dust, lift the lid and take a stroll down the years.
Periodically, I run across that box, maybe during a spring-cleaning, maybe while in search of some completely unrelated item. Each time I find it, I blow off the dust, lift the lid and take a stroll down the years.
So, this is it?
According to some ancient stone tablets deciphered as being the Mayan calendar, the world ends in 2012.
According to some ancient stone tablets deciphered as being the Mayan calendar, the world ends in 2012.
Even my dearest friends say I’m not real quick on the draw. I never think of a comeback during any encounter, whether it leaves me sputtering, laughing or crying.
Instead, I think it over for awhile and then write letters in my head. Thus today we have… More Letters I’ll Never Send:
Instead, I think it over for awhile and then write letters in my head. Thus today we have… More Letters I’ll Never Send:
So I read where a New York woman is suing a bar she was in because a stuffed moose head fell on her. She says she has suffered injuries and lost wages because of the nose-dive ol’ Bullwinkle took after happy hour.
Sounds ridiculous, eh? Yet another reason why we need tort reform in this country, right?
Sounds ridiculous, eh? Yet another reason why we need tort reform in this country, right?
I want to lodge a complaint. This is getting ridiculous. ?I was in Atlanta last week, doing some Christmas shopping at Books A Million and it happened again. I had been perusing the new release table when I heard this hot, sultry voice from behind. ?“I’m looking for Dan Brown.”?I immediately perked up, and thought, “Dang. I’ve only been in town for six hours and they already know I’m here.” ?I then heard a Books A Million associate reply, “Oh, he’s right over there.”?And I thought again, “Wow … one of my tens upon tens of Fanfare fans.”?So I turned, and smiled at the tall, leggy brunette sashaying my way, and my brain flew off on this wildly ridiculous tangent that says I’m a legend in my own mind. I said, “Hi there,” in what I call my Radio Voice and flashed a big smile.?She looked at me like I was something she just stepped in and said, “Excuse me but would you please move? I want Dan Brown’s new book and you’re in my way.”?Oh. You want … him. The little fantasy I’d suddenly conjured burst like an over-inflated balloon.?“But my name really is Dan Brown.”?She gave me this look like I just belched up lunch and said, “Sure it is. Now please move or else I get out the pepper spray.”?It’s not easy being Dan Brown, and yes, I know. This is an exercise in total narcissism. Writing a column about being me. ?Not quite though, but you get my point. ?I was once told I was a totally self-absorbed and self-centered individual. Everything is always all about me. To which I reply, “and your point is what?”?This is all about me, on being Dan Brown. And I singularly blame him for this. ?Growing up I thought my name was dull. There’s not much you can do with Dan Brown. It has no rhythm. No flow. It just sits there, ordinary and un-inspiring.?I wanted something dashing like “Rex Steele,” but had to settle for plain-Jane Dan Brown. Then someone who has your name writes a controversial mega-best seller and suddenly everybody wants a piece of you.?Dan Brown becomes the most talked about man on the planet. Millions of church-goers reviled him, but they all bought his book, and Dan Brown laughed all the way to the bank.?Too bad that wasn’t me. Sure, money can’t buy happiness, but it makes being miserable a lot more fun.?One of my favorite narcissistic pastimes on trips to Books A Million is to peruse the fiction aisle and see whose name jumps off the shelf at me, giving a slight pause at the slot on the shelf where my eventual best seller would reside. ?That’s when I see it, and one of the top items on my Life’s Bucket List, right next to “Fly Like Superman” and “Win the Heart of a Really Hot Looking Super Model” – to see my name on a book sitting on a shelf in Books A Million – had been unceremoniously stolen from me.?The Da Vinci Code, the new best seller from Dan Brown.?I uttered a few choice colorful adjectives. ?Everywhere I go I’d get the same thing, “So how does it feel to write all those books?”?I even had a woman pass me on the street one day who did the whole “snake fangs” thing at me with her fingers. Then she hissed and said, “Be thee gone from me Satan.”?Even the Pope wants a piece of me. ?I was watching the news one night and as Peter Jennings is about to go to commercial, he throws out a little teaser about the next news story. ?“When we come back. The Pope speaks out against Dan Brown.”?Dang, I thought, he’s good. How did the Pope know I skipped church last Sunday?
So from one Dan Brown to another I say, Thank you.
So from one Dan Brown to another I say, Thank you.
A wise man once said, “There are things I don’t do and things I won’t do, but there’s nothing I can’t do.” (Okay, it was a contestant on “I’m a Celebrity—Get Me Out of Here!” And no, he didn’t win.)
As a new year dawns many of us make resolutions. We vow to exercise more and gossip less. We plan to lose 10 pounds, quit smoking and forgive our enemies, or at least ignore them.
As a new year dawns many of us make resolutions. We vow to exercise more and gossip less. We plan to lose 10 pounds, quit smoking and forgive our enemies, or at least ignore them.
I swore off making New Years Resolutions years ago.
Back in the day, making promises I knew I couldn’t keep seemed preposterous, if only because I would be providing even more cannon fodder for all the nay-sayers who would rub their hands in gleeful anticipation of yet another chance to call me on all those unrealistic, unkeepable promises.
Back in the day, making promises I knew I couldn’t keep seemed preposterous, if only because I would be providing even more cannon fodder for all the nay-sayers who would rub their hands in gleeful anticipation of yet another chance to call me on all those unrealistic, unkeepable promises.
I get these every Christmas and I hate them.
I’m talking about those annoying family Christmas letters.
I’m talking about those annoying family Christmas letters.
