Lately I've been thinking a lot about romance. With Stewart's most recent Latin adventure and the rash of weddings that I've attended over the last year, I can't avoid it. (Over the past year or so I've been a groomsman for three of my closest friends, and have attended probably a dozen other weddings in various parts of the country.) Given my age, it's not really that unusual I guess. But I can't help but wonder why it is that I haven't gotten to that point in my own life.
Now, most of you would probably say that I need to look no further than my own blog for the explanation. (Who in their right mind would want to marry a guy that barely finished High School, took seven years to graduate college and is a self-proclaimed under-achiever?) But I think there's more to it than that.
I'd like to think that I'm a pretty fun person to be around. I mean sure, I like to have a drink or twelve every now and again(Who doesn't?), but it's not something that I consider an issue. Hell, I've even been engaged before! (Given, I was 19 at the time and the girl turned out to be more of a solid drinking partner than a soul-mate. But it was an engagement, nonetheless.) I've never really had a problem getting dates, but I've only had a handful of what I would consider "serious" relationships.
Keisha:
I was six years old and she was seven, and at the time I went to a public school in Gadsden that was about 99% African American (The one percent was made up of myself, my brother and a healthy little Latino girl that moved away after the first grade). Keisha and I held hands on the playground, laid side by side at nap time and rode the bus home from school together (We lived on the same street).
Everything was moving along quite nicely until one day on the bus, all of the older kids started chanting "Brass Honkey". (This was right around the time that the Beastie Boys song "Brass Monkey" hit the airways, so it was really a pretty easy remix.) I tried to play it off like they weren't talking to me. But in hindsight, since I was the only white kid on the bus, that was a pretty lame defense strategy. It wasn't long before Keisha stopped holding my hand on the playground, stopped taking naps beside me and stopped sitting with me on the bus.
When I was eight, I left the city and moved out to the country. This meant that I now had the option of attending the city school system or the (predominately Caucasian) county school system. This is North Alabama's own little way of hanging on to segregation. You see, In most other parts of the state, parents would have to pay thousands of dollars a year to send their children to private schools in order to guarantee they have a safe and productive learning environment. Well, in North Alabama, if you live within the city limits, you're required to attend a city school. If you live outside the city limits, you have the option of attending a city school OR a county school.
Well, as you might imagine, the overwhelming majority of African Americans lived within the city limits (i.e. public housing, low income housing, apartments, etc...). This meant that the county school systems we're made up of mostly Caucasians. Of course, I wasn't aware of this at the time but now that I look at it, it's a pretty sneaky little trick. The county school system is where I met my next girlfriend.
Amanda:
Amanda came into the picture when I was in the third grade, but we didn't start "going" together until the fifth grade. Our relationship was pretty solid. We both liked the same music (Randy Travis, Hank Jr., etc...), we shared many of the same values and we both we're about as stubborn as they come. (The "stubborn" part of my personality will be a recurring theme in this post.)
Ultimately, the demise of our relationship lays on my shoulders. You see, for Christmas one year I bought Amanda a necklace. It was a nice little gold chain with a clear, heart shaped pendant attached to it with the letter A carved into the center. I told her it was a real diamond. She obviously new that it wasn't.
Nevermind the fact that I had bought the necklace at the jewelry counter at K-mart, or the fact that, had it been real, it would have cost approximately $3 million dollars. I told her it was real, and I was sticking to my story. Even when another girl at our school came in wearing the exact same necklace, (and openly admitted to purchasing it at K-mart) I wouldn't budge.
Eventually, I think Amanda grew tired of the game. So, she dumped me.
(In my defense, if I had $3 Million dollars, I would have bought her a real one.)
Fast forward through Middle School, where the scene was way too intense to be thinking about a girlfriend. (I would equate the pressure and social anxiety that I experienced in Middle School to what, I imagine, it would have felt like to be standing in the exact three foot area of downtown Hiroshima that the atomic bomb landed on.)
Once I reached High school, things started to level out. I had actually started to realize a little bit about who I was as a person and I worried a little less about what other people thought about that person. That was when I got involved in my first "Grown Up" relationship.
Jill:
I was 16 and she was 15. Jill was the most beautiful girl I had ever talked to, much less dated. Obviously, the fact that I was older than her and owned a car had a serious influence on her willingness to date me. Jill and I dated for quite a while, almost two years, I think. We had a very volatile relationship. In other words, we fought a lot. That's not that unusual for kids our age, but it starts to wear on you after a while. One day, I was at work and I just decided to break up with her.
I was going into the summer before my senior year and the last thing I wanted was a girlfriend to fight with all summer long. I called her up, and picked a fight with her for no reason. For the record, this is the meanest thing I've ever done to another person in my life. The fight was totally bogus and I don't even remember what it was about. It lasted about an hour and then I broke up with her. She begged me to get back together for about a month and I wouldn't give her the time of day. That is, until I found out that she was dating one of my older brothers friends, and I begged her to take me back for the next two months....she didn't.
I was single for about a year after that, and it was great. This year included several trips to Panama City Beach, and a countless number of High School, House Party, make-out sessions that ended at 11:30 (Because I had to be home by Midnight). After graduation we all headed to Panama City Beach for senior week. That's where things really started to heat up between me and my future "EX-fiance'".
Hillary:
Hillary and I met in Gadsden. Her younger sister was dating one of my best friends and we all went to a party together. We hit it off from the start, mainly because she was running at about the same speed as I was at the time. By that, I mean we were both heavily involved in multiple social scenes and there was never a dull moment. We had a blast all summer, on the river, at the beach, camping in the mountains and kicking it by the pool.
The fall came and it was time for her to move to Auburn. I was staying in Gadsden for a year because I had a really good summer job and I wasn't quite ready to give it up yet. I also wanted to take a few of my core classes as Gadsden State (AKA: Harvard on the Hill).
We made it through her first semester, and got engaged over the Christmas break. We had started to fight here and there but for the most part, things were good....until she moved home for the summer.
When she came home for the summer, it was all downhill. We fought like crazy, night and day, no matter what the situation. We couldn't get in the car to go the grocery without having an all out yelling match. We struggled our way through the entire summer and that fall I moved to Auburn. Our relationship lasted about a week after that. I didn't see or talk to her, in Auburn or Gadsden, for the next three years.
The next three years are basically a blur. As I've mentioned before, I was in, what my mom likes to call, my "experimental" stage. I was way more interested in Band Parties, Keg Parties, House Parties, Block Parties, Tailgate Parties, Road Trips, and Drugs to worry about a serious girlfriend. I did date a girl off and on during this period, but we never really labeled ourselves as "Boyfriend and Girlfriend". For that reason, she will be spared from this list.
One night I had hopped the fence from the Sigma Nu house to go see some friends of mine that were Sigma Chi's. It was at the Sigma Chi house that night, that I met my next long term girlfriend.
Hillary "The 2nd Time":
That's right. For the first time in three years, Hillary and I were standing face to face. Surprisingly, it wasn't as awkward as you might think. Most of the people there were from the same social circle that we had been so heavily involved in when we first met. We started talking, and before you know it we were back at her house and back into a serious relationship.
We dated for about a year and things were good. I was pretty sure I was going to marry her, but I was determined not to rush it. We weren't quite as crazy as we were the first time, but we still maintained a pretty fast pace. She was getting ready to graduate, and she took a job in Atlanta. I was nowhere near graduating.
After she moved to Atlanta, it started to slip again. She was having a really hard time adjusting to life in the real world and I definitely couldn't relate. Most of the time, I was trying to get off the phone with her so I could go to drink specials at Bodega's, get bombed and sleep until eleven the next day.
It wasn't long before she got tired of her new job, tired of Atlanta and tired of me. It was mutual. By mutual I mean, she broke up with me and after about two weeks I realized that it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't mean that as an insult to Hillary. We are just two very different people who were on two very different wavelengths.
For the last three years I haven't dated anyone seriously. I graduated college and took a job in Baton Rouge. After about a year, I was transferred to Montgomery. After a little over a year there, I was transferred to Atlanta. I have wanted to concentrate on my career and I just didn't have time to get involved with someone.
Once I got settled in Atlanta, I began to open myself up to the idea of getting back into a relationship. I wasn't actively looking for one, but I wasn't totally against the idea either. That's when I met my current girlfriend. I'm not going to mention her name, because I'm not sure how she would react. She's said, on more than one occasion, that she doesn't mind, but I don't want to chance it. Mainly because I like her... a lot.
This is the method I'm using to win her over....
Friday, November 2, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
My Normal Day....
It's great to see Stewart getting settled into a routine, mixing it up with the ladies and working hard to have a positive impact on the lives of those around him. Since Stewart has given an account of his daily routine, I feel obligated to give an account of mine...
Typical Weekday:
06:00AM - My alarm goes off (If I wasn't too drunk the night before to remember to set it).
(I hit the snooze)
06:09AM - My alarm goes off again.
(I hit the snooze)
06:18AM - My alarm goes off again.
(I hit the snooze)
06:23AM - I get up before my alarm goes off again (with a false sense of accomplishment because I managed to get up before the alarm went off).
06:24AM - I'm in the shower, and my alarm goes off again. (Because I forgot to turn it off when I got up earlier).
06:48AM - Out of the shower and getting dressed. I try to find one of the four Brooks Brothers Oxfords that I own, and haven't worn yet that week. (I have more than four shirts, it's just that these are wrinkle resistant and so it saves me about 4 minutes of ironing time.)
07:00AM - I take my dog out so he can go to the bathroom. I also wave to my carpool partners who have arrived promptly at 7:00.
07:07AM - My dog takes a crap. I pick it up with a "complimentary" disposable bag that my condo provides. (Do these assholes really think I would pay for a paper bag to pick my dogs shit up with if they didn't provide one for me?)
07:11AM - I finally make it to the car and settle in for the twenty five minute ride to work where I may or may not participate in the group conversation, depending on the topic. (If someones talking about a good band they saw the night before, I participate. If the group is discussing what happened last night on Grey's Anatomy, I sit quietly and think of ways to kill myself and then come back to life twenty five minutes later. Stewart, please advise of any methods you may know of to accomplish this).
07:45AM - I arrive at my cubicle, and die a little inside.
07:50AM - I get on the Internet and check my e-mail. (If I'm lucky, my Internet girlfriend, Juanita, is online and we g-chat for about an hour.) Then I check my online banking to see how much my bar tab was the night before. (Surprise, it was a lot.) Then I check my fantasy football team and discover that three of my best players have been injured and they're out for the rest of the season.
09:00AM - Morning Logistics Meeting. I sit in a conference room full of people who are unbelievably ignorant about any number of topics. (Seriously, if I were the boss, I would fire every person in the room.)
10:00AM - I do a little work, make a few calls and maybe go to my bosses office with a problem that I already have the solution to. I sit, in agony, as he goes over every possible scenario that may fix the problem. Finally I say, "Hey, like you were saying earlier, why don't we try this?" (even though he had never mentioned anything about what I had just suggested.) He says: "Yeah, I've thought about it, and that's the only solution that I can come up with. Let me know how it works out"
12:00PM - I go to lunch. I'm supposed to get an hour for lunch but I usually stay gone for about an hour and a half. I just walk around downtown and spend money to avoid having to go back to the office. (Although, recently I've been staying at my desk during lunch because my online relationship with Juanita has really begun to heat up, and we g-chat more often than we once did.)
1:30PM - I get back to my desk and die a little more inside.
2:00PM - I return a few phone calls, send a few e-mails and swing by me bosses office to let him know that "His" idea worked great, and tell him how much I appreciate his help.
3:30PM - I leave. I just get up and walk out. I walk around the building a couple of times, thinking about how Bad Ass I would be if I just got in my car and never came back. Drain the savings account, empty out the 401(K) and break out the backpack (that I haven't gotten to use in three months because I work all the time).
4:30PM - I get back to my desk, where I sit for the next fifteen to thirty minutes until my boss leaves..... then I leave.
5:15PM - I arrive at the car and wait for my over-achieving carpool partners to arrive back at the car.
5:40PM - I get home and take my dog out to play. (If I were still in college, this is the point where I would self-medicate with pot, or pain pills, or any number of benzodiazepines.)
6:30PM - I am about four beers into a six pack when I decide to go get more beer.
After that, everything gets a little fuzzy...
and then Beep, Beep, Beep,..... it's 06:00AM - My alarm goes off.(I hit the snooze)
Typical Weekday:
06:00AM - My alarm goes off (If I wasn't too drunk the night before to remember to set it).
(I hit the snooze)
06:09AM - My alarm goes off again.
(I hit the snooze)
06:18AM - My alarm goes off again.
(I hit the snooze)
06:23AM - I get up before my alarm goes off again (with a false sense of accomplishment because I managed to get up before the alarm went off).
06:24AM - I'm in the shower, and my alarm goes off again. (Because I forgot to turn it off when I got up earlier).
06:48AM - Out of the shower and getting dressed. I try to find one of the four Brooks Brothers Oxfords that I own, and haven't worn yet that week. (I have more than four shirts, it's just that these are wrinkle resistant and so it saves me about 4 minutes of ironing time.)
07:00AM - I take my dog out so he can go to the bathroom. I also wave to my carpool partners who have arrived promptly at 7:00.
07:07AM - My dog takes a crap. I pick it up with a "complimentary" disposable bag that my condo provides. (Do these assholes really think I would pay for a paper bag to pick my dogs shit up with if they didn't provide one for me?)
07:11AM - I finally make it to the car and settle in for the twenty five minute ride to work where I may or may not participate in the group conversation, depending on the topic. (If someones talking about a good band they saw the night before, I participate. If the group is discussing what happened last night on Grey's Anatomy, I sit quietly and think of ways to kill myself and then come back to life twenty five minutes later. Stewart, please advise of any methods you may know of to accomplish this).
07:45AM - I arrive at my cubicle, and die a little inside.
07:50AM - I get on the Internet and check my e-mail. (If I'm lucky, my Internet girlfriend, Juanita, is online and we g-chat for about an hour.) Then I check my online banking to see how much my bar tab was the night before. (Surprise, it was a lot.) Then I check my fantasy football team and discover that three of my best players have been injured and they're out for the rest of the season.
09:00AM - Morning Logistics Meeting. I sit in a conference room full of people who are unbelievably ignorant about any number of topics. (Seriously, if I were the boss, I would fire every person in the room.)
10:00AM - I do a little work, make a few calls and maybe go to my bosses office with a problem that I already have the solution to. I sit, in agony, as he goes over every possible scenario that may fix the problem. Finally I say, "Hey, like you were saying earlier, why don't we try this?" (even though he had never mentioned anything about what I had just suggested.) He says: "Yeah, I've thought about it, and that's the only solution that I can come up with. Let me know how it works out"
12:00PM - I go to lunch. I'm supposed to get an hour for lunch but I usually stay gone for about an hour and a half. I just walk around downtown and spend money to avoid having to go back to the office. (Although, recently I've been staying at my desk during lunch because my online relationship with Juanita has really begun to heat up, and we g-chat more often than we once did.)
1:30PM - I get back to my desk and die a little more inside.
2:00PM - I return a few phone calls, send a few e-mails and swing by me bosses office to let him know that "His" idea worked great, and tell him how much I appreciate his help.
3:30PM - I leave. I just get up and walk out. I walk around the building a couple of times, thinking about how Bad Ass I would be if I just got in my car and never came back. Drain the savings account, empty out the 401(K) and break out the backpack (that I haven't gotten to use in three months because I work all the time).
4:30PM - I get back to my desk, where I sit for the next fifteen to thirty minutes until my boss leaves..... then I leave.
5:15PM - I arrive at the car and wait for my over-achieving carpool partners to arrive back at the car.
5:40PM - I get home and take my dog out to play. (If I were still in college, this is the point where I would self-medicate with pot, or pain pills, or any number of benzodiazepines.)
6:30PM - I am about four beers into a six pack when I decide to go get more beer.
After that, everything gets a little fuzzy...
and then Beep, Beep, Beep,..... it's 06:00AM - My alarm goes off.(I hit the snooze)
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
What's with the Spanish?
Stewart, I want to address the issue of Spanish titles on your blog. I realize you're in a Spanish speaking country (that doesn't eat Burritos?) and part of the reason that you're there is to learn conversational Spanish, but I can see this heading towards full Spanish posts and I'm not comfortable with that.
Just to clarify; I'm not one of those people that raise hell about ATM machines having a Spanish option on them or having to press one for English when calling customer service, but I do take issue with Non-English correspondence. I don't necessarily think that it's a good thing that a majority of the people who entered this country without signing the guest book, speak Spanish as their native tongue and haven't bothered to learn English...but it's not a deal breaker for me. In fact, I enjoy the Spanish culture. I eat Burritos at least once a week. I've put forth a half-ass effort to learn Spanish for some time now, and I plan to master it at some point. But, when I sit down in the comfort of my own cubicle to catch up on my friends South American adventures, I need to see The Kings English.
My first attempt to tackle Spanish was at Southside High School. Southside is a public school in North Alabama (home of the Crimson Panthers, some monumental rednecks and several pot-heads). I'm not sure how most people's high school diploma program is set up but at Southside it was broken down like this:
Advanced Diploma: This degree was designed for over-achievers like Stewart who were still under the impression that your "Permanent Record" actually existed and that it played a serious role in your ability to go to college.
Technical Diploma: This degree was designed for the tradesmen of the class (Mechanics, Carpenters, Blacksmiths, etc...). These were mostly second or third generation skilled laborers that had a job (probably with the family business) waiting on them when they graduated, and they just wanted to finish school with the least amount of effort possible.
Standard Diploma: This degree was well suited for a wide range of people. On one end of the spectrum you had rural Alabamians who had hopes of becoming the first person in their family to graduate high School (see the aforementioned "Monumental Rednecks"). On the other end you had the spoiled, lazy and unmotivated under-achievers like myself. I finished 167 out of 169 in my graduating class (Despite scoring a 29 on the ACT without cracking the cover of the study guide). The two people who finished below me were a guy that I only know as "Skinny Pimp" and another guy who is currently on tour with Widespread Panic.
Oh yeah, and then there was this guy...
Seriously, I went to High School with this kid and he just got signed by Sony Records. He's actually a really nice guy.
Well, when I started High School I was convinced that the Advanced Diploma was the way to go. Coming from a large Auburn family, I knew that's where I wanted to go to college and I knew I needed an Advanced Diploma to get in. Mainly because I was still buying in to the whole "Permanent Record" theory and I knew that I had pulled enough shit in Elementary and Middle School to keep me out of Phoenix Online University, never mind a fine institution like Auburn. As you might imagine, the Advanced Diploma required four years of Math & Science and two years of a foreign language. Keep in mind we're in Southside, AL so no one spoke French or German....Spanish was your only option.
My first year of High School, everything was great. Alabama hadn't switched to the semester system yet, so you attended the same class year round. I breezed through Algebra and Life Science without a hitch and was excelling at JV Basketball and Football. Then my sophomore year came, and along with it came the semester system and my first encounter with Spanish.
My Spanish teachers name was Mrs. Garrison. She was a mean little Senorita that stood about 5' 1" and had some serious scaring on her face from an apparent childhood acne problem. She knew that I was more interested in the girls sitting next to me than I was in conjugating verbs, and I think she resented me a little bit for that. I also think she knew that I couldn't have been less interested in her class if it were a four hour lecture on the history of door knobs.
I had a million different things on my mind other than Spanish. For starters, I had a birthday coming up and my parents had informed me that I would be required to put up 75% of the funds necessary to purchase my first vehicle (Given that I had about $16.00 pesos in my junior checking account at Amsouth Bank and no job, this was a problem). Also, I had a girlfriend and I was so close to getting her to have sex with me that I spent most of my day thinking of ways to "close the deal".
Well as you can imagine, I failed the first semester of Spanish miserably (I think I finished with an average somewhere around Trienta Y Nueve). Me being the mediocre student that I have always been, I refused to give up after just one half-ass effort. So the next semester, I re-enrolled in Mrs. Garrison's class for another half-ass effort. I Buckled down, and failed again. At that point, I accepted the reality that the Advanced Diploma wasn't going to happen. I also began to loose faith in my ability to overcome the mountain of offenses that had been recorded in my "Permanent Record" (Which, by this time, was probably more like a "Permanent Filing Cabinet"). This is, to the best of my recollection, the exact moment that my academic career began to go down the proverbial crapper. (As bad as it sounds, thanks to a pretty good score on the ACT and some connections in the admissions office at Auburn, I got in and eventually graduated with a 3.0)
After switching to the Standard Diploma, I was no longer required to take the two years of Spanish or the four years of Math & Science. That's right, for the next three years it would be a steady dose of Environmental Sciences, Business Math(better known as "how to operate a cash register") and a full regiment of electives (P.E., Home EC., Shop, etc...). This obviously meant that I had a little more free time on my hands outside the classroom and it wasn't long before I decided that athletics weren't really that important either. Well, that, and the fact that I wasn't that good at basketball and I really didn't have the dedication that it took in the weight room to keep up in football.
Next thing you know, I'm a senior in high school that had absolutely no interest in being there. People talk about how great their senior year was and how they wish they could go back....I'm not one of those people. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time my senior year. I went to Prom, I came to school everyday and I even went on a field trip to New Orleans with one of my Environmental Science classes. I was actually voted a Senior Notable by my teachers and classmates(how that happened perplexes me to this day... I think it may have had something to do with the Vice Principle's slightly disturbing infatuation with my married mother).
When it came to class though, I was a permanently absent. Hell, I almost failed Business Math because I refused to do the homework. I aced every test and passed with a D (because the tests represented 60% of our grade). This was something that would later haunt me in college when I failed Business Cal. SIX TIMES! This was the only class that I failed in college and again I think it was because I refused to do the homework, and that tiny bit about me not knowing how to do Algebra as a direct result of three years of High School "Cash Register Math". After the fifth attempt at Business Cal. "my way", I got a tutor and basically had to teach myself Algebra. I blame all of this on Spanish.
Moral of the story:
Spanish can have a devastating effect on your life if your not careful. So, always be mindful of those that speak Spanish as their native tongue...
Be Safe Stewart,
~Gonzo
Just to clarify; I'm not one of those people that raise hell about ATM machines having a Spanish option on them or having to press one for English when calling customer service, but I do take issue with Non-English correspondence. I don't necessarily think that it's a good thing that a majority of the people who entered this country without signing the guest book, speak Spanish as their native tongue and haven't bothered to learn English...but it's not a deal breaker for me. In fact, I enjoy the Spanish culture. I eat Burritos at least once a week. I've put forth a half-ass effort to learn Spanish for some time now, and I plan to master it at some point. But, when I sit down in the comfort of my own cubicle to catch up on my friends South American adventures, I need to see The Kings English.
My first attempt to tackle Spanish was at Southside High School. Southside is a public school in North Alabama (home of the Crimson Panthers, some monumental rednecks and several pot-heads). I'm not sure how most people's high school diploma program is set up but at Southside it was broken down like this:
Advanced Diploma: This degree was designed for over-achievers like Stewart who were still under the impression that your "Permanent Record" actually existed and that it played a serious role in your ability to go to college.
Technical Diploma: This degree was designed for the tradesmen of the class (Mechanics, Carpenters, Blacksmiths, etc...). These were mostly second or third generation skilled laborers that had a job (probably with the family business) waiting on them when they graduated, and they just wanted to finish school with the least amount of effort possible.
Standard Diploma: This degree was well suited for a wide range of people. On one end of the spectrum you had rural Alabamians who had hopes of becoming the first person in their family to graduate high School (see the aforementioned "Monumental Rednecks"). On the other end you had the spoiled, lazy and unmotivated under-achievers like myself. I finished 167 out of 169 in my graduating class (Despite scoring a 29 on the ACT without cracking the cover of the study guide). The two people who finished below me were a guy that I only know as "Skinny Pimp" and another guy who is currently on tour with Widespread Panic.
Oh yeah, and then there was this guy...
Seriously, I went to High School with this kid and he just got signed by Sony Records. He's actually a really nice guy.
Well, when I started High School I was convinced that the Advanced Diploma was the way to go. Coming from a large Auburn family, I knew that's where I wanted to go to college and I knew I needed an Advanced Diploma to get in. Mainly because I was still buying in to the whole "Permanent Record" theory and I knew that I had pulled enough shit in Elementary and Middle School to keep me out of Phoenix Online University, never mind a fine institution like Auburn. As you might imagine, the Advanced Diploma required four years of Math & Science and two years of a foreign language. Keep in mind we're in Southside, AL so no one spoke French or German....Spanish was your only option.
My first year of High School, everything was great. Alabama hadn't switched to the semester system yet, so you attended the same class year round. I breezed through Algebra and Life Science without a hitch and was excelling at JV Basketball and Football. Then my sophomore year came, and along with it came the semester system and my first encounter with Spanish.
My Spanish teachers name was Mrs. Garrison. She was a mean little Senorita that stood about 5' 1" and had some serious scaring on her face from an apparent childhood acne problem. She knew that I was more interested in the girls sitting next to me than I was in conjugating verbs, and I think she resented me a little bit for that. I also think she knew that I couldn't have been less interested in her class if it were a four hour lecture on the history of door knobs.
I had a million different things on my mind other than Spanish. For starters, I had a birthday coming up and my parents had informed me that I would be required to put up 75% of the funds necessary to purchase my first vehicle (Given that I had about $16.00 pesos in my junior checking account at Amsouth Bank and no job, this was a problem). Also, I had a girlfriend and I was so close to getting her to have sex with me that I spent most of my day thinking of ways to "close the deal".
Well as you can imagine, I failed the first semester of Spanish miserably (I think I finished with an average somewhere around Trienta Y Nueve). Me being the mediocre student that I have always been, I refused to give up after just one half-ass effort. So the next semester, I re-enrolled in Mrs. Garrison's class for another half-ass effort. I Buckled down, and failed again. At that point, I accepted the reality that the Advanced Diploma wasn't going to happen. I also began to loose faith in my ability to overcome the mountain of offenses that had been recorded in my "Permanent Record" (Which, by this time, was probably more like a "Permanent Filing Cabinet"). This is, to the best of my recollection, the exact moment that my academic career began to go down the proverbial crapper. (As bad as it sounds, thanks to a pretty good score on the ACT and some connections in the admissions office at Auburn, I got in and eventually graduated with a 3.0)
After switching to the Standard Diploma, I was no longer required to take the two years of Spanish or the four years of Math & Science. That's right, for the next three years it would be a steady dose of Environmental Sciences, Business Math(better known as "how to operate a cash register") and a full regiment of electives (P.E., Home EC., Shop, etc...). This obviously meant that I had a little more free time on my hands outside the classroom and it wasn't long before I decided that athletics weren't really that important either. Well, that, and the fact that I wasn't that good at basketball and I really didn't have the dedication that it took in the weight room to keep up in football.
Next thing you know, I'm a senior in high school that had absolutely no interest in being there. People talk about how great their senior year was and how they wish they could go back....I'm not one of those people. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time my senior year. I went to Prom, I came to school everyday and I even went on a field trip to New Orleans with one of my Environmental Science classes. I was actually voted a Senior Notable by my teachers and classmates(how that happened perplexes me to this day... I think it may have had something to do with the Vice Principle's slightly disturbing infatuation with my married mother).
When it came to class though, I was a permanently absent. Hell, I almost failed Business Math because I refused to do the homework. I aced every test and passed with a D (because the tests represented 60% of our grade). This was something that would later haunt me in college when I failed Business Cal. SIX TIMES! This was the only class that I failed in college and again I think it was because I refused to do the homework, and that tiny bit about me not knowing how to do Algebra as a direct result of three years of High School "Cash Register Math". After the fifth attempt at Business Cal. "my way", I got a tutor and basically had to teach myself Algebra. I blame all of this on Spanish.
Moral of the story:
Spanish can have a devastating effect on your life if your not careful. So, always be mindful of those that speak Spanish as their native tongue...
Be Safe Stewart,
~Gonzo
Monday, September 17, 2007
Big trouble in little Venezuela..
Let me get this straight; Stewart got fired from a volunteer job?
I'd like to get my hands on that sorry piece of Central American shit that kicked Stewart out of his house. What kind of worthless prick kicks a volunteer doctor from another country out of his house? If I was Stewart, I would have done that nasty bastard a favor and burned his house to the ground as I stood in the street singing a Spanish version of "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel, while all of his worldly possessions went up in flames. (Stewart on the other hand, probably made his bed and left them $100 on the table.)
I was almost evicted once, in college. I was living in a house across the street from The Supper Club in Auburn and I paid $375.00 a month. It was a tiny 2 bedroom 1 bath SHIT-HOLE. I'm not talking about one of those cute, hip, nostalgic, old houses like you find on Samford or Glenn Av., I'm talking about a true to life pile of shit that wasn't worth a dollar, much less $375...
The one advantage to this place was that there was ample parking and the den (Which had been an addition to the house several years after it's original construction) was gigantic. This meant it was the optimal location for "pledge kegs". For those of you who aren't familiar with the term "Pledge Keg", these are parties that the pledge's at a fraternity are expected to host several times a week so the "Brothers" can come get wasted for free and try to pick up the girls that the pledge's have spent all week convincing that "The Hunch Punch isn't that strong!".
I was about three months behind on my rent and we had just hosted a "fish fry social" with one of the sororities. Well to prepare for this fish fry, we bought several bails of hay and placed them in a semi-circle in the front yard, roughly 200 pounds of fish, hush puppies and french fries. Also, three kegs, 6 cases of wine, three handles of Jim Beam, 18 bottles of Everclear, various chopped fruits, and some Hawaiian Punch. We also went to the local rental center and got a huge, trailer mounted, portable deep fryer. Needless to say, the party was a huge success. I would estimate approximately 300 people were there at the peak of the evening (Plus or Minus 100).
That night, after the kegs were dry and the hunch punch was gone, a couple of my pledge brothers and I went out looking for some trouble.... we found it.
You see, a couple of months after moving to Auburn I met a gentleman that for the sake of anonymity, I will call "Dreddy Patrick". Well DP introduced me to the wonderful world of psychedelic mushrooms (and countless other interesting and highly illegal methods of mind alteration). I remembered him telling me about a field where the mushrooms grew naturally on the outskirts of town and tonight felt like the perfect night to scout it out. Our trip was successful and we returned to my house at about 2:30 in the morning with the bounty of or midnight harvest. I cooked the mushrooms up in a tea/kool-aid concoction, just as DP had taught me and we settled in for one hell of a ride....
My recollection of the events that immediately followed is limited at best, but the next morning I awoke on one of the hay bails in the front yard wearing nothing but a towel and some make-up that probably belonged to the girl on the ground beside me. I gathered my composure and began to survey the area.
The trailer mounted deep fryer was jack-knifed into the side of one of my pledge brothers Tahoe, and that same Tahoe was planted firmly into the rear end of a Volkswagen Passat that, again, probably belonged to the girl laying on the ground beside me.
Just as I realized that the toilet from my bathroom was sitting on the front porch in several pieces, a car entered the driveway. As you can probably guess by now, my landlord had just pulled up on what can only be described as a "93-Octane Freak Show" and the front yard of his rental property was center ring.
I'll spare you the gory details of the next twenty five minutes of my life, but I was able to work out a deal that included paying all three months of back rent (This was something that I resisted vigorously in the beginning, but it was non-negotiable. Truthfully, even if it had been negotiable, I probably wouldn't have been too successful considering all I had on was a towel and some "deep maroon" lip-stick).
Collecting the delinquent rent was really all the man came for. Once I made good on the promise to write him a check (a valid check that actually drew funds from an active bank account) he was on his way and I was left to clean up the aftermath of the Armageddon that had taken place at my house the night before..
That was the last time I ever experimented with any sort of psychedelic drug. That's also the last time I ate fish or drank hunch punch...
Moral of the story;
It takes A LOT to get evicted from a house...way to go Stewart!
I'd like to get my hands on that sorry piece of Central American shit that kicked Stewart out of his house. What kind of worthless prick kicks a volunteer doctor from another country out of his house? If I was Stewart, I would have done that nasty bastard a favor and burned his house to the ground as I stood in the street singing a Spanish version of "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel, while all of his worldly possessions went up in flames. (Stewart on the other hand, probably made his bed and left them $100 on the table.)
I was almost evicted once, in college. I was living in a house across the street from The Supper Club in Auburn and I paid $375.00 a month. It was a tiny 2 bedroom 1 bath SHIT-HOLE. I'm not talking about one of those cute, hip, nostalgic, old houses like you find on Samford or Glenn Av., I'm talking about a true to life pile of shit that wasn't worth a dollar, much less $375...
The one advantage to this place was that there was ample parking and the den (Which had been an addition to the house several years after it's original construction) was gigantic. This meant it was the optimal location for "pledge kegs". For those of you who aren't familiar with the term "Pledge Keg", these are parties that the pledge's at a fraternity are expected to host several times a week so the "Brothers" can come get wasted for free and try to pick up the girls that the pledge's have spent all week convincing that "The Hunch Punch isn't that strong!".
I was about three months behind on my rent and we had just hosted a "fish fry social" with one of the sororities. Well to prepare for this fish fry, we bought several bails of hay and placed them in a semi-circle in the front yard, roughly 200 pounds of fish, hush puppies and french fries. Also, three kegs, 6 cases of wine, three handles of Jim Beam, 18 bottles of Everclear, various chopped fruits, and some Hawaiian Punch. We also went to the local rental center and got a huge, trailer mounted, portable deep fryer. Needless to say, the party was a huge success. I would estimate approximately 300 people were there at the peak of the evening (Plus or Minus 100).
That night, after the kegs were dry and the hunch punch was gone, a couple of my pledge brothers and I went out looking for some trouble.... we found it.
You see, a couple of months after moving to Auburn I met a gentleman that for the sake of anonymity, I will call "Dreddy Patrick". Well DP introduced me to the wonderful world of psychedelic mushrooms (and countless other interesting and highly illegal methods of mind alteration). I remembered him telling me about a field where the mushrooms grew naturally on the outskirts of town and tonight felt like the perfect night to scout it out. Our trip was successful and we returned to my house at about 2:30 in the morning with the bounty of or midnight harvest. I cooked the mushrooms up in a tea/kool-aid concoction, just as DP had taught me and we settled in for one hell of a ride....
My recollection of the events that immediately followed is limited at best, but the next morning I awoke on one of the hay bails in the front yard wearing nothing but a towel and some make-up that probably belonged to the girl on the ground beside me. I gathered my composure and began to survey the area.
The trailer mounted deep fryer was jack-knifed into the side of one of my pledge brothers Tahoe, and that same Tahoe was planted firmly into the rear end of a Volkswagen Passat that, again, probably belonged to the girl laying on the ground beside me.
Just as I realized that the toilet from my bathroom was sitting on the front porch in several pieces, a car entered the driveway. As you can probably guess by now, my landlord had just pulled up on what can only be described as a "93-Octane Freak Show" and the front yard of his rental property was center ring.
I'll spare you the gory details of the next twenty five minutes of my life, but I was able to work out a deal that included paying all three months of back rent (This was something that I resisted vigorously in the beginning, but it was non-negotiable. Truthfully, even if it had been negotiable, I probably wouldn't have been too successful considering all I had on was a towel and some "deep maroon" lip-stick).
Collecting the delinquent rent was really all the man came for. Once I made good on the promise to write him a check (a valid check that actually drew funds from an active bank account) he was on his way and I was left to clean up the aftermath of the Armageddon that had taken place at my house the night before..
That was the last time I ever experimented with any sort of psychedelic drug. That's also the last time I ate fish or drank hunch punch...
Moral of the story;
It takes A LOT to get evicted from a house...way to go Stewart!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wow...
I apologize for not updating this blog in a couple of weeks. I received all of your e-mails and no, I'm not in rehab or dead or homeless(Assholes).
I would love to tell you that I've been busy setting up free snow cone stands in Zimbabwe or some crazy shit like that, but the truth is.... I've been drunk.
Maybe not continuously drunk for the entire two weeks, but most afternoons and pretty much all day on Saturday's and Sunday's.
Now, I would like to post a blog point of my own:
I'm absolutely appalled by this video! I mean, HOLY SHIT!
This quote from Billy Madison accurately describes what I'm feeling right now:
While Stewart's off in V-Town saving the world, I'm stuck back here on the mainland in what can only be described as a bubbling cesspool of ignorance that grows larger with each new episode of "Wife Swap", "The Real World", "Big Brother 17" and "Laguna Beach" that hits the airways. (BTW, LC is so hot right now and I'm glad she finally broke up with Jason for good. He was trouble from the start and she deserves better. Now she will finally have an opportunity to pursue her dreams of being a fashion designer in LA.....You Go Girl!).
If the above video doesn't make you want to throw up a little bit, then I want you to stop reading this blog and go hit yourself in the head with something heavy. I honestly believe that there should be a constitutional amendment outlawing beauty pageants.
I'm going to go ahead and address the countless e-mails that I'm going to get from supporters of beauty pageants, telling me that they're good for girls because it promotes self-esteem, Blah, Blah, Blah...
Look at these girls. When have they ever had a self esteem problem? These are the hottest, most popular and probably wealthiest girls in their school. The same girls that used to get all creeped out when they would catch me staring at their boobs in the lunchroom.
Most of these girls have been pampered since they were toddlers. All these events do is encourage this ridiculous behavior well into adulthood. Seriously, there are women in this country who participate in these things for a living! Miss Teen USA, Miss USA, Miss Universe, Etc...
Now don't get me wrong, I am a southern gentleman through and through but I honestly think that I might have slapped this girl in the back of the head about half way into this if I was standing next to her. So, kudos to Mario Lopez for keeping his composure.
The worst part about this whole thing is SHE'S AN HONOR STUDENT AT HER HIGH SCHOOL IN LEXINGTON, SC WITH A 3.5 GPA!
So Stewart, if I had to give you a "State of The Union" right now, I would say you might start thinking about making V-Rock your permanent residence. After all, how many opportunities are you gonna get to be the tallest person in an entire town?
I would love to tell you that I've been busy setting up free snow cone stands in Zimbabwe or some crazy shit like that, but the truth is.... I've been drunk.
Maybe not continuously drunk for the entire two weeks, but most afternoons and pretty much all day on Saturday's and Sunday's.
Now, I would like to post a blog point of my own:
I'm absolutely appalled by this video! I mean, HOLY SHIT!
This quote from Billy Madison accurately describes what I'm feeling right now:
"Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul".
While Stewart's off in V-Town saving the world, I'm stuck back here on the mainland in what can only be described as a bubbling cesspool of ignorance that grows larger with each new episode of "Wife Swap", "The Real World", "Big Brother 17" and "Laguna Beach" that hits the airways. (BTW, LC is so hot right now and I'm glad she finally broke up with Jason for good. He was trouble from the start and she deserves better. Now she will finally have an opportunity to pursue her dreams of being a fashion designer in LA.....You Go Girl!).
If the above video doesn't make you want to throw up a little bit, then I want you to stop reading this blog and go hit yourself in the head with something heavy. I honestly believe that there should be a constitutional amendment outlawing beauty pageants.
I'm going to go ahead and address the countless e-mails that I'm going to get from supporters of beauty pageants, telling me that they're good for girls because it promotes self-esteem, Blah, Blah, Blah...
Look at these girls. When have they ever had a self esteem problem? These are the hottest, most popular and probably wealthiest girls in their school. The same girls that used to get all creeped out when they would catch me staring at their boobs in the lunchroom.
Most of these girls have been pampered since they were toddlers. All these events do is encourage this ridiculous behavior well into adulthood. Seriously, there are women in this country who participate in these things for a living! Miss Teen USA, Miss USA, Miss Universe, Etc...
Now don't get me wrong, I am a southern gentleman through and through but I honestly think that I might have slapped this girl in the back of the head about half way into this if I was standing next to her. So, kudos to Mario Lopez for keeping his composure.
The worst part about this whole thing is SHE'S AN HONOR STUDENT AT HER HIGH SCHOOL IN LEXINGTON, SC WITH A 3.5 GPA!
So Stewart, if I had to give you a "State of The Union" right now, I would say you might start thinking about making V-Rock your permanent residence. After all, how many opportunities are you gonna get to be the tallest person in an entire town?
Monday, August 13, 2007
Straight to work...
Well, Stewart made it safely and it's no surprise that he went straight to work! I, on the other hand, was late to work this morning (seventh day in a row).
It's really exciting to read about all of the goals Stewart has set for the next year of his life. My goals for the next year include a ski trip to Canada and trying not to get fired. I've already paid for the ski trip, so I think I'm good on that one.
Like Stewart, I too attended a family celebration over the weekend. A good friend of mine was married Saturday in Birmingham. I almost missed the wedding because I arrived in town a little later than scheduled and the people I rode with didn't know exactly where the church was. We made it though, the wedding was beautiful and Leigh (my friend since 7th grade) looked amazing.
The reception was at a nice little place in the English Village. I can't remember the name of the establishment because I had too much to drink, but I do remember that it was adjacent to a fun little bar named Billy's (That's where we went to drink some more after the reception.).
Since this was a friend of mine from Gadsden (my home town), I had the opportunity to see a lot of people that I haven't seen in a long time. Most of these people were parents of my friends from high school. The conversations were pretty standard.
Parent: "Hey, Jason! It's so good to see you. Boy you've really grown up!" (Which is code for: "Wow you must have put on 25 pounds since the last time I saw you.")
Me: "Thanks, it's really good to see you too! It's been a long time... " (Which is code for: "yeah you've put some weight on too.")
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "So, what are you doing these days?" (Which is code for: "Please tell me you're not still in college!")
Me: "I'm living in Atlanta, working as a Load Planner for Georgia-Pacific"
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Oh that's great! That's the railroad company, right?"
Me: "No, that's Union-Pacific."
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Oh that's right, Georgia-Pacific is the power company."
Me: "No, that's Georgia-Power."
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Well, that's great to hear! I'm so glad to hear that you're doing so well". ( This is code for: " You've drank an entire beer in this three minute conversation, I hope you don't get super drunk and cause a scene")
Me: "Thank you, it was great to see you! If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom" ( This is code for: " I just downed this entire beer and now I need another one.... Actually, I think I'm going to switch to liquor....")
Well, that's all for now. I've spent the first hour of my day blogging, so I better do some work if I want to meet that second goal of the year.....
It's really exciting to read about all of the goals Stewart has set for the next year of his life. My goals for the next year include a ski trip to Canada and trying not to get fired. I've already paid for the ski trip, so I think I'm good on that one.
Like Stewart, I too attended a family celebration over the weekend. A good friend of mine was married Saturday in Birmingham. I almost missed the wedding because I arrived in town a little later than scheduled and the people I rode with didn't know exactly where the church was. We made it though, the wedding was beautiful and Leigh (my friend since 7th grade) looked amazing.
The reception was at a nice little place in the English Village. I can't remember the name of the establishment because I had too much to drink, but I do remember that it was adjacent to a fun little bar named Billy's (That's where we went to drink some more after the reception.).
Since this was a friend of mine from Gadsden (my home town), I had the opportunity to see a lot of people that I haven't seen in a long time. Most of these people were parents of my friends from high school. The conversations were pretty standard.
Parent: "Hey, Jason! It's so good to see you. Boy you've really grown up!" (Which is code for: "Wow you must have put on 25 pounds since the last time I saw you.")
Me: "Thanks, it's really good to see you too! It's been a long time... " (Which is code for: "yeah you've put some weight on too.")
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "So, what are you doing these days?" (Which is code for: "Please tell me you're not still in college!")
Me: "I'm living in Atlanta, working as a Load Planner for Georgia-Pacific"
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Oh that's great! That's the railroad company, right?"
Me: "No, that's Union-Pacific."
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Oh that's right, Georgia-Pacific is the power company."
Me: "No, that's Georgia-Power."
(I Take a sip of beer)
Parent: "Well, that's great to hear! I'm so glad to hear that you're doing so well". ( This is code for: " You've drank an entire beer in this three minute conversation, I hope you don't get super drunk and cause a scene")
Me: "Thank you, it was great to see you! If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom" ( This is code for: " I just downed this entire beer and now I need another one.... Actually, I think I'm going to switch to liquor....")
Well, that's all for now. I've spent the first hour of my day blogging, so I better do some work if I want to meet that second goal of the year.....
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Here we go...
Stewart is currently en route to South America where he will be for a year. A year that will be packed with exciting adventures, new people, kind acts and life changing experiences. This really makes me question my own career choices. (i.e. being in a cubicle on the 36th floor of an office building in downtown Atlanta.)
You see, like Stewart, I'm extremely intelligent. In fact, if the truth be told, way more intelligent than Stewart. However, my college years were spent in a haze of late nights, illegal gambling, missed opportunities, alcohol induced shenanigans and dangerous tango's with various other substances (both legal and not so legal).
While my years since graduation have produced a much more responsible & compassionate member of society, the product of my misspent youth has led me down a path of mediocrity. While I've always been perfectly content with mediocrity, it's times like these that bring up the question "Just how fulfilling could my life be if I truly applied myself?"
So Stewart, on top of being well on your way to becoming an amazing doctor, philanthropist and world traveler: add to this list "An inspiration to everyone who knows you". (Also an inspiration to people who are smarter than you but didn't realy apply themselves in college.)
Safe travels my friend...
You see, like Stewart, I'm extremely intelligent. In fact, if the truth be told, way more intelligent than Stewart. However, my college years were spent in a haze of late nights, illegal gambling, missed opportunities, alcohol induced shenanigans and dangerous tango's with various other substances (both legal and not so legal).
While my years since graduation have produced a much more responsible & compassionate member of society, the product of my misspent youth has led me down a path of mediocrity. While I've always been perfectly content with mediocrity, it's times like these that bring up the question "Just how fulfilling could my life be if I truly applied myself?"
So Stewart, on top of being well on your way to becoming an amazing doctor, philanthropist and world traveler: add to this list "An inspiration to everyone who knows you". (Also an inspiration to people who are smarter than you but didn't realy apply themselves in college.)
Safe travels my friend...
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