Prez hopefuls to debate it out at Ole Miss

Oh my god. I just read Geoff Caulkin's Presidential Debate article in today's Commercial Appeal. Please, stop whatever you are doing and read this piece. I never laughed so hard. I can't lie...I have laughed so hard. A lot harder actually, but really this article was a specimen of pure entertainment. And, not in a good way. It is a very monumental occasion for the town of Oxford. Do not get it twisted. I would love to be there. What a historical election this year's will be, and to be so honored as to have a debate take place in your home town is insurmountable! But, relating this presidential debate to Rebel football & telling of volunteer crews picking chicken bones out of trees??? Really? What? Are we really destined to be type-cast as the hillbilly, incestuous, indoor plumbing-less cliche that the whole world already sees us as?? If they read this article, the answer is a resounding yes! This is the best he could do? I almost frickin' wet my pants while laughing uncontrollably and very loudly I might add. Only me peeing in my pants would have surpassed the hilarity of this article. Again, I implore you...cease whatever mundane task you are working on & read this piece. You will call me later & thank me.

My god, I went outside today...

Thank the lord above! It has finally cooled off in Memphis. If only for a bit (because, of course, they are predicting the temps to go back up), but who cares! It's flippin' gorgeous out now! Don't get me wrong, I do go outside everyday. I just don't stay there. The last couple of days, I haven't wanted to go back in. Winter is not my favorite season. As a matter of fact, it is my least favorite. Spring and Fall are my fav's. In these parts of the country, there is so much outdoor summertime we are robbed of because of the inferno we live in. Seriously, how many times have you stepped out of your house to go to work in say, June or July, and burst into such a massive sweat it looks like you got dressed in the shower? It's not just me, so don't even do it. Pit sweat is not cool. I don't care who you are. And, it is crucial when your pit sweat is eclipsed by back sweat, butt sweat, behind the knee sweat, collar sweat, fat roll sweat...you know what I'm talking about? When you sit in your car slumped over your steering wheel trying to be as close as humanly possible to your air conditioner, that the undulating terrain that is your fat stomach becomes a gigantic sweat dough ball. I don't care how skinny you are, this happens to you. Having to keep deodorant on you at all times is annoying, but smelling like you've been cooking onions and garlic using your body as a saute pan while laying in a tanning bed is annoying to everyone else. Stink is the number one killer of all coolness you've worked your entire pre-pubescent, teen and adult life to accumulate. So, join me in thanking mother nature for finally cutting us some slack. Skip to your car after work loudly proclaiming (in your best operatic voice), I'm free, free, free of the stifling heat! It will make you feel good, and will give your co-workers a much needed giggle. And, what is more important than making someone laugh? Money, sex, food.....sorry, it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but my ADHD kicked in. Alright, I'm out. And, by out, I mean I'm going outside. Have a wonderfully cool, almost fall day! I'M FREE, FREE, FREE OF THE STIFLING HEAT.....

Do you remember where you were 7 years ago?

Ok, I couldn't let Heather Mills completely have the day and my blog. I just couldn't help remembering where I was 7 years ago. Where were you? Do you remember what you were doing, what you felt, what you saw the day the World Trade Center Towers were hit and subsequently fell? I do. I was six months pregnant with my son Tanner. It was my first pregnancy, and everything regarding my pregnancy was strained. It was not a planned pregnancy, and Tanner's father and I were not together. It was a very bittersweet time in my life. Here I was carrying the most precious of miracles in my belly, but I wasn't married, I was alone and was very afraid. I was working for CNA Insurance Company. My office was in the buildings at Park and Ridgeway. Every morning, I stopped at the McDonald's to get a sweet tea, and sometimes a bisquit. I ate breakfast at the house, but was often hungry again by the time I got to work. I had stopped for my tea, and the lady working the drive thru made a peculiar comment. I always made small talk, but didn't understand what she was saying. She said that her daughter working in one of the towers of the World Trade Center, and she hoped she was ok. I didn't understand. It seemed random. When I apologized and asked what she was talking about, she looked at me with a very stunned look. She realized I didn't know. When she told me, I remember looking down at my belly. I had my green sweater on. It was my favorite preggo shirt. This I do remember. I don't remember even driving the rest of the way to my office right around the corner. The next thing I remember is hurrying to get in the building and upstairs where my two co-workers, Clint and Nina, were. We were a small office, but very close. Clint and Nina had the radio on. When I heard for myself the anchor on the radio telling the story of what was going on in New York I was overcome with fear. We managed to find a TV somewhere. By the time we got the TV hooked up, we were just in time to see the second plane hit the second tower. At this point, I thought this was going to be the end, or at least the beginning of the next World War. I can't tell you what was going through my mind as I watched that screen. There was so much smoke, fire, fear, and chaos. Watching those people trapped by the flames concede to the fact that they were not going to make it and take charge of their fate by jumping to their impending death, was so frightful. I can't tell you what was going through my mind, because it was so overloaded I can't pinpoint my thoughts. But I can tell you I stood in front of that television, and quietly cried.

Shortly after the attacks in New York and Washington, I was doing some major cleaning (you know, I was now in my 7th almost 8th month, and had begun nesting). I came across some photos I had stuck in a box in my closet. There were all kinds of pictures I had been looking for in that box. There would turn out to be a tremendously special group of photos hidden within this dusty box I had found. In 1999, I had traveled to New York City. The guy I had been dating here in Memphis, had taken a job with TVT Records in New York. It was the first and only time I visited him. Because I had been only 10 years old the first time I was in New York, there were some tourist spots I wanted to revisit. We had taken the ferry over to Staten Island to see the Statue of Liberty. It was a brisk, fairly breezy spring day. He took a ridiculous amount of pictures of me on the ferry as we crossed back to the city. I remembered the day, but I had forgotten the pictures. All of those pictures! All of those pictures he had taken of me had both towers in the background. Every one of them. Can you believe that? All of them.

Everytime I look at those pictures, I remember that day. I keep one on my refrigerator to help me remember. Like many Americans, I don't want to forget what that day felt like. Take time today to remember. Where you were, what you were doing and thinking, what you felt, and what you saw. Remember all those that lost their life, and take a moment to silently pray.

Can you believe Heather Mills?

I woke up this morning, and got online to read the news. Today is no different than any other day. I sit at the kitchen table, logged onto the MSNBC.com website, drinking my apple juice. I was thinking I would blog about today being 9/11, and what impact that has had on America...how we have picked up the pieces, and where we are on the new memorials in New York. Basically, what this day means to all Americans. Instead, I see a headline screaming out at me. Heather Mills is fired from the new season of The Apprentice before the show even begins. I know, you are thinking...the importance of 9/11, Heather Mills...how could I. I don't know. Something about seeing and then actually reading the story just completely set me off. I'm sure you all know, Heather Mills is the horrid woman who was married to Sir Paul McCartney. You also know there was a long, drawn out, mud-slinging divorce in which this gold-digger ended up hitting the divorce jackpot to the tune of $50 Million dollars. Mi-ll-ion. 50 Million! They were married, what, a couple of years. Oh my god, this woman unnerves me. I used to like the show Dancing with the Stars...until she was on it. Who cares if she has one leg. She is a devil of a woman. I'm not insensitive to people with physical handicaps, just ones who exploit it. Her one time agent/manager (whatever) has now come forward about how Heather tricked her into leaking vicious lies about Paul to the press during the divorce. HELLO. No shit, Shirley. Don't try to clear your conscious now that your no longer on the payroll. I digress. The Apprentice. This show is awesome. I love "The Donald". I love the dynamics of the competition. So, as the story goes, Heather Mills was scheduled to be one of the celebrity contestants on the new season. First of all, I would argue her validity as a celebrity. What has she done to be famous, besides prove that she is Satan by taking advantage our most enduring Beatle and his money? Anywho, they fired her. Before the show even began taping! This contrite troll actually had it written into her contract that NBC would guarantee her a spot in the finals, no matter what. Sorry sweetie, despite what you may think, not everything is as calculating as you. That is not how the show works, and you suck at life. I actually would have liked it if she had made it on the show, only because it would have been wicked awesome to see "The Donald" shred her before firing her on National Television during the first boardroom appearance. Oh God, please let Donald Trump issue a statement on this! Word to the wise, missy...don't go away mad. Please, just go away. Take your gozillion's (that you didn't work a flippin' day for) and leave us free of your waste for human space. Everyone is sick of you and your lame attempts of trying to pass yourself off as someone of importance.

A Regal Blog Beginning

A new day, fresh eye, another warped perspective? Whatever. Sometimes it's crazy here in insanity, but there's always something going on. In my mind, that is. So here is where we are. My beginning in the blog world. Little late, I know, but what can I say that is my style.

Speaking of style, how about "The King"? Why didn't Elvis week just end? You know, being from Memphis, I have always been attracted to the beautiful tragedy, wicked amusement & freakish fixation of Elvis' life & death. Growing up in the 70's, I remember my mother told me I actually attended one of the last concerts Elvis put on here in Memphis. Which is only partly true, because my mom & dad didn't really drag an infant to a show. My mother was pregnant with me. Weird. Just like alot of stories us Memphians have. Everyone around here seems to have a six degrees of separation Elvis story. My mother went to Humes High School, the same high school as Elvis. Of course, they never attended the school at the same time, but to the hardcore it is meaningful. Another girl who grew up down the street from me had an interesting tale. In her childhood, my friends mother had a babysitter who dated Elvis. He supposedly took my friends mom for a ride on his motorcycle. It's stories like these that personalized Elvis to us here in the River City. He was our small town boy who changed the face of music.

What is crazy is I have lived here all my life, and have never been to Graceland. What? You heard me. Never been. I have heard all the talk of the Jungle Room, insane lavishness, and eccentric decor that I cannot fathom unless I see it with my own eyes. Don't know. I've just never gone. Maybe it's because I've always had a love hate relationship with Elvis week.

The girl who is the peanut butter to my jelly, my sister from another mutha and my rock-n-roll twin since we were 14 resides in Southern Orange County. She moved after we graduated from high school (that story is for another blog). Why is this pertinent to Elvis week you say? Calm down. I'm getting there. My birthday is the 6th of August; hers is the 20th. It was decided the moment we learned that she was moving completely across the country from me, we would try to visit each other at least once a year. Since SoCal seemed alot cooler than the "Armpit of America" where we grew up, I've tried to make it out there as much as possible. I use the AOA reference, because how many misguided youths do you know admit to loving the big small town they grew up in? Exactly. It is BLAZINGLY APPARENT to my peeps here in Memphis to which I am referring (again, another blog). Anywho, I digress. For us to be able to celebrate both of our birthdays in complete rockstar Leo fashion, we've always agreed the week that was in between our birthdays was to be the one. You're falling in it now, right? Elvis week. Have you ever been in the Memphis International Airport, let alone on a plane where folks are traveling between LA & Memphis during Elvis week? Holy pork chop sideburns! I've never seen the likes of such strangeness in all my short life. Well, that's probably not a true statement, but it comes pretty damn close! I can honestly say, one of my most horrifying experiences of all times was being stuck on a 4 hour flight, sitting next to a couple of Japanese dudes sporting pompadours & bulging gold frame shades who asked me ever 10 minutes what state we were flying over! I'm warped, but would never lie of such things.

Do not get me wrong, I believe Elvis was an innovator. He was bold, original and captivating. He was amazingly handsome, and redefined what it meant to be an entertainer. Elvis is Memphis, and Memphis is Elvis. There is just this part of me that doesn't quite understand. You know why? I know the music, seen the photos from the medical examiner, seen the movies, the funeral procession, but I've never physically walked through the halls of Graceland nor witnessed first hand the Candlelight Vigil. I missed it again this year. Not because I was in SoCal, but rather I had come down with the wretched summer cold. God, does the summer cold suck infinity, or what? Looks like I'll have to set my sights on next year. Maybe I can talk my girl into coming home for the festivities. We'll go and buy some bedazzled white jumpsuits & rock out in regal birthday style! Can you say "Holy pork chop sideburns"?