I’m Still A Wimp
So, I got this email the other day from a church I visited one time. I must have filled out some guest registration thing and ended up on someone’s list. So far they haven’t abused it so I’m not regretting giving it to them or anything like that. In fact, I’m actually pretty glad I got an email from them stating that today a bunch of guys were getting together to play some softball, and if there was enough interest they would talk about starting a church team in the county league coming up. I played baseball in high school, and softball when I lived in California, so Randy and I decided to give it a go.
Here’ the weird part. I’ve never actually met any of these people. I literally visited the church once because a friend asked me to. I really liked the church, but with gas prices and me playing guitar at our church it hasn’t really worked out for us to visit again. I am, however, not opposed to playing softball with guys from the church…. once we meet.
Anyway we show up at this complex thing, and there are people on three different fields so we just stood in the middle and tried to guess which one looked like a church. I guessed the field with the least amount of people and was wrong. Randy guessed the field with the lady and the baby and guessed right.
Today was basically one guy hitting the ball and everyone else running around trying to catch it and not look stupid. At first I thought I was doing okay, until the sweat started dripping into my eyes and making me blind. Then it was my turn to hit. Now, I haven’t played any sort of athletic anything since I have lived in Tennessee, but hitting a ball is sort of like riding a bike right? Anyway, I think we got like twenty pitches or something, but about halfway through I could feel my hands really starting to hurt, but the guy just kept pitching the ball, so I kept swinging.
Eventually my turn was over and I walked back to put the bat away and looked at my hands. No good. One blister had already ripped off, and the other was just forming. Turns out you don’t get many calluses typing on computers or keeping track of musicians. So now, next week I will be the dork with the two batting gloves looking like I’m taking things way to seriously. Hello Softball.
Dear Apple
Dear Apple.
Your iPhone is neat. It’s been neat for a while now.
I do have one small favor to ask. Can you please make sure that when you do updates for your neat iPhone that there is enough room on your server for people that are going out of town for the next two days to be able to update. It’s a little frustrating having your entire phone cleared off and then getting an error message saying that your iTunes store is having “unexpected errors” moments before leaving town. It would be awesome when you tell me that something is “ready for an update” to actually be ready for an update.
I still like your phone, but I wish I could use it as a … you know…. phone… instead of a fancy piece of glass and metal. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I hope that you will take this request into consideration.
Your fair weather friend,
brody
It Hurts Right Here
Today I picked up the baby and then wanted to fall on the floor and cry. Something bad happened. It’s been bugging me a little today and then I put the baby in his highchair and BAM, I was broken. Broken to the point of being short of breath and wanting to cry like a baby.
I wish we had a chiropractor that lived with us. Maybe under the stairs or something. Somewhere not really in the way or anything but maybe we could go to a closet unhook him from a hook and he could fix me. Then I could hang him up again for next time. Though I imagine if I had to hang him up, I run the risk of hurting myself hanging him up, causing me to need to get him down again and that could get annoying. I’d be willing to buy him a step stool or something so he can do get up there himself though. That’s the type of guy I am.
I’m broken somewhere between the middle of my shoulder blades all the way around under my arm and into my chest. Like that picture only I have more hair and the man boob makes it awkward.
Do you ever wish someone would swing you by your feet from the roof and stretch you out? I do.
The Order Disorder – Chaotic Sunday
Remember my disorder that many of you admitted to sharing with me? Well today it flared up bad and attacked me when I was vulnerable. Here’s how lunch went down.
First off we ended up in a very crowded Puckett’s Grocery for lunch where we juggled the three boys for fifteen minutes while waiting for a table. Once we were seated I didn’t have much time too look at the menu and all of the sudden my stupid allergic to everything face decided to have a nose bleed again. Neat. Here I am in a crowded restaurant scrambling for napkins and looking around for the bathroom.
After that fiasco I got back to the table just in time for the waitress to show up and ask what I wanted. Crap! Now what am I supposed to do? I looked at the menu and since Puckett’s is sort of a “meat and three” place, that’s what I said.
“Meat and three.”
She pointed at a chalkboard across the room and asked me what kind of meat and what kind of three. ”What? No Fair!! A second menu?!!”
I started reading the chalkboard and said the first things that I saw.
“Smoked chicken, turnip greens, mashed potatoes, and squash casserole.”
What the crap?! Why would I ever eat any of that? Ever since I was old enough to eat chicken I have never been able to eat meat off of a bone and this particular cooking style (smoked) made the chicken taste like it had been dropped in a campfire for ten minutes, then pulled out and then given to me on a plate. I politely ate my mashed potatoes and then shared Kristin’s salad.
I think we have decided that Kristin is ordering for me from now on. I’ve had better lunch experiences.
