|Mom and I had to go to Atlanta the other day to get a minor medical procedure taken care of and we found ourselves back at the same hospital where Dad was back at the turn of the Millennium.
Not much has changed in the ten years since we spent almost every waking hour at the hospital, going to the hospital or coming home from the hospital: We still make a wrong turn and end up going into the wrong parking garage. The traffic is absolutely terrible. The food is even worse and the little bistro that we used to sneak away to for a bit of quiet time folded up during the recession.
Something else that hasn't changed is the quality of the care received there: if you're sick and need to go into the hospital then that is the place to be; the medical staff rocks!
Anyhow, once Mom got called into the back I decided to go look for a pop machine; I was told that I had at least 30 minutes before I needed to be back in the waiting room. I walked back in the waiting room with Diet Coke in hand and the older lady sitting there with her even older mother looked straight at me and gave me the most quizzical look. I was surprised and a bit taken back but I asked, "Did you want me to get you a Coke too? I can run right back and get you one?"
"Oh, no!" they said in unison. "We've got water."
I had just settled back into my chair when Mom walked back into the room. Not from the back of the office but from the hall that I had just come from. "Where ya been?" she asked.
I don't know how long I was gone but it was nowhere close to 30 minutes. "How long have you been waiting? I just walked next door and now I know why these ladies were looking at me funny: we were chasing each other!"
"Oh, I don't know. I got the main Doc and he knows what he's doing. He said, 'Wham, and a bam and a aren't you glad you came, otherwise, you wouldn't get to see me.'"
"He really said that?"
"Yep! That wham, bam stuff I'm not sure of; I think he's French or something. You know what they say about those French guys...HeHe."
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Posted by Gianetta at 9:42 AM
Monday, July 25, 2011
|Since I've joined the Social Media Revolution and started using sites like Twitter and Facebook I have reconnected with a lot of people from my past such as childhood friends, past coworkers and even a few of my teachers.
At first, I thought it was a bit odd receiving likes and comments from folks that used to give me a grade for conduct on a daily basis. I mean I was a pretty good student and such but I still felt self-conscious about posting commentary about "swamp ass" and "hemorrhoids."
Recently, I wished one of my former teachers a happy birthday. My teacher said you can drop the mister because everyone just calls me Ron. Well, I was a bit reluctant to do this but in further email exchanges I dropped the mister and called him Ron.
A few weeks later I was telling Mom what had happened and she stopped what she was doing, looked at me and said in a serious tone, "That is something that you don't do. Your teachers taught you very well and you still need to show them respect. Ron will always be Mr. Smart to you and don't you forget it."
Well, when L.M. Palmer speaks, I listen. So, listed below are my former teachers and what they learned me...
Mrs. Jones - (Art) I still have my hand print from kindergarten and my silhouette portrait from second grade.
Mr. Smart - (Science & Basketball Coach) Don't be afraid to take the shot.
Mr. Whitford - (Band) He switched me from trumpet to baritone and it took me all the way to Europe.
Mr. Breeze - (History) Tidbits of useless information did indeed pay off in later life; not too many people can beat me at Trivial Pursuit.
Mrs. Gray - (Math) It's been 25 years but I can still do Algebra. Maybe not take the equation all the way down to X=O, but pretty darn close.
Mrs. Smith - (English) The Outsiders is still one of my favorite stories.
So I say thank you to all of you; you taught me very well!
Friday, July 22, 2011
|On describing the current status of Congress and the President as they try to fix yet another looming crisis...i.e...the National Debt crisis: "Mama always said stupid is as stupid does." Forrest Gump
On describing yet another Republican female presidential hopefuls attempt at discussing an event from America's past: "Excuse me a minute, what are you babbling about?" The Breakfast Club
On describing the unbelievable acquittal of Casey Anthony by a jury of her peers: "...a date that will live in infamy." President Roosevelt
On describing the scandal of Rupert Murdoch and his evil media empire: "Hey bud, what's your problem?" Fast Times at Ridgemont High
On describing the current lockouts in the NFL and the NBA: "Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit." Wall Street
On describing the current unemployment situation that continues to drag on and on: "Show me the money!" Jerry Maguire
On describing the extramarital affairs that are plaguing America: "Luke, I am your father." Star Wars
On describing the current dearth of quality daytime television programs since Oprah went off the air. "I led you here sir, for I am Spartacus." Spartacus
On describing the continued coverage of an old, old news story by the Nancy Grace show: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Gone With the Wind
On describing the totally gut-wrenching loss suffered by the National Women's Soccer Team in the World Cup: "I'll be back..." Terminator
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
****This was forwarded to me in an email; too funny not to share****
Ya don't start the car; ya crank it.
A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.
There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South.
There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before.
If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha.
Onced and Twiced are words.
It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy!
Jawl-P? means Did y'all go to the bathroom?
People actually grow, eat and like okra.
Fixinto is one word. It means I'm fixing to do that.
There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there is supper.
Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South.
Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you.
The word jeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?'
You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see.
You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em.
Ya'll is singular; All ya'll is plural.
You measure distance in minutes.
You switch from heat to A/C in the same day.
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal.
You know what a DAWG is.
You carry jumper cables in your car - for your OWN car.
You only own five spices: salt, pepper, mustard, Tabasco and ketchup.
The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports and motor sports, and gossip.
You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.
You find 100 degrees Fahrenheit a bit warm.
You know what a hissy fit is.
Going to Wal-Mart is a favorite pastime known as goin Wal-Martin' or off to Wally World.
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good beef stew or chili weather.
Fried catfish is the other white meat.
We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!!
You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the SOUTH.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
|During my recent overnight business trip, I was excited to get to stay in a really nice hotel that offered room service. It was late by the time I finished up my tasks for the day that I didn't really want to venture out anywhere so I ordered room service.
The book that was in my room that told the specifics about the hotel and listed the room service menu seemed to be missing a page or two. Somewhere I had read that they offered breakfast as an option but couldn't find any breakfast items listed.
I called the front desk and was transferred to a nice lady that worked in the restaurant. The following is our conversation:
Me: I'd like to order room service...
Lady: Okay, what'll ya have? What'll ya have?
Me: I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?
Lady: Yes, Ma'am, I said, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?
Me: I'm not sure. Is this room service, or have I called the Varsity?
Lady: Oh, you must live around here, don'tcha? I like to say that to the traveling folks. Makes 'em think they is at the Varsity, though. Since you is from around here, I'll rephrase my question and ask what would you like to have for dinner?
Me: I'm not sure. My hotel book only lists options for lunch and late-night dining. It does list a Filet Mignon for $52, but I don't think I'll order that. You got any seafood plates?
Lady: Yep, we sure do. We got a fried shrimp, french fries and cole slaw plate for $16, and it's good too.
Me: Okay, I'll get that. (It was good.)
I had called the front desk in the morning and mentioned that my hotel book was missing a few pages, so when I got back into the room the next night I was hoping to see what other options might be available. They hadn't provided me with the missing menu so I had to call again without knowing what I wanted.
Lady: Room service. What'll ya have, what'll ya have?
Me: I'd like to order room service, please.
Lady: Sure thing, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?
Me: I'm not sure. I don't have a complete menu in my room...
Lady: Lordy, is this the same lady from last night?
Me: Yep, sure is.
Lady: I told them room cleaners to put you a new book in there, but I guess they didn't. It figures. Well, what'll ya have then, what'll ya in the mood for?
Me: You got any fried chicken?
Lady: Fried chicken? Honey, this ain't the Big Chicken, but we do have a three-piece platter with smashed taters and a vegetable.
Me: Sounds goods. What's the vegetable?
Lady: Why, collard greens, of course. That's the only thing that goes good with chicken.
Me: Hmmm, I don't really like collard greens, you got anything else?
Lady: Harump! Whacha' mean, you don't like collard greens? Are ya crazy or somethin'? I thought you said you was from around here?
Me: I live up in the mountains, but I'm originally from Ohio.
Lady: Oh, I see. You from north of the sweet tea line, (that's my favorite line to describe someone from the north) ain't ya? Well, we ain't got any other vegetables, so I'll send you a double order of taters, okay?
It worked for me since mashed potatoes are my favorite food.
The next day during our lunch break we were standing in line at the small cafeteria in the building where our training was taking place. Listed on the daily lunch special were fried chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable for only $5.99. "What's the vegetable?" I asked.
You know I already knew the answer to that before the lady answered in a familiar voice. "What'll ya have, what'll ya have? It's my first day on the job here and the vegetable of the day is collard greens. Could you believe someone ordered the fried chicken at the hotel last night and said they didn't like collard greens?"....
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Posted by Gianetta at 10:34 AM
Friday, July 8, 2011
|****In case you missed it the first time around.****
My next door elderly neighbor, Ms. Merlethem Shatz, cornered me up at the mailbox the other day and decided to tell me how she had been feeling recently. I normally try to avoid these conversations with her because whatever she tells me usually makes my skin crawl.
This time was no exception. Neck pimples. That's what was ailing her this week; she had a big icky pimple on the back of her neck and she couldn't get it to pop. It was making her whole head hurt like she had a migraine or something. She asked me if I wanted to have a go at it (she's British) and I started to look at it before I caught myself. Sometimes, your curiosity can get the better of you and Merlethem realized that she had piqued my interest and started in on one of her stories. She's kind of like Rose from the Golden Girls and her stories about life back in St Olaf.
"Back when I was a girl I had the worst time with pimples...or I think you call them zits now...blah, blah, blah" Goodness! I had to get out of there, and fast.
"You don't have any Preparation H do you?" she asked.
"What for?" I replied.
"Well, I had a pimple on my bum a few years back and all I had was some Preparation H and I put it on the bump and it went right away."
"No, luckily I haven't had a need for Preparation H. I don't have any hemorrhoids and I don't have pimples on my butt. I think they sell it at the drug store."
"Okay, I better get down there before they close. Damn, my head hurts. You got any Goody Powders?"
"What about Tylenol?"
"I know you got some Doan's pills for your back that is always out when I ask you to carry something for me. Can I have one of them?"
At that point she had followed me down my driveway and onto the new porch. "Merlethem, this is my house," I said. "Yours is over there."
"How'd I get here?" she asked. "I told you that neck pimple was bothering me. I can't even find my own house. Are you sure you don't want to have a go at this thing?"
Rrrrrrriiiinnnggggg. "Gotta go, someone is calling," I said. "Hello?"
"Hi, this is Felicia from Proactive..."
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
|I missed the Fourth of July parade again this year, but just barely. I wanted to go, but I have this thing about parades. They scare me a little and usually make me cry. I was in the marching band in high school so I got to march in several parades a year. I don't think they bothered me then because I was in the parade and didn't have to watch. From the tenth grade on I marched in the very front row on the left-hand side. I played a large brass instrument and it was a lot of fun. Maybe, it was from watching all of those Thanksgiving parades on TV that made me nervous around parades. All of those large inflated creatures that if there was just one wrong misstep could send their handlers floating off somewhere over the rainbow.
As I drove into town yesterday, tractor pulled floats with balloons flapping in the breeze, pickup trucks with 'Vote-for-so-and-so' and gleaming red firetrucks passed me coming the other way. When I reached the center of town it looked like someone had set a bomb off(wonder if they had a permit?). Trash everywhere. Families were still milling around town clinging to their children's hands to keep them from running into the street to salvage any leftover thrown candy. I saw one child dart out into traffic, hit a pile of manure(EEWWW) left by a horse in the parade, pick up a piece of candy and slide across the road into the waiting arms of a very shocked parent. One parade judge was receiving medical attention because one of the parade participants had thrown an exceptionally large piece of hard candy at him and boinked him on the head.(I think they got last place) I heard a little girl sobbing inconsolably because she hadn't gotten any of the candy thrown in her direction.(See a pattern here?)
As I was waiting to make a left hand turn in the center of town, I was startled when I heard something beside me go bleep, bleep. I looked at all of my mirrors and couldn't see a thing. Bleep, Bleep, BBBLLLLEEEEEEPP!! All of a sudden, six very large clowns(I'm scared of clowns too) jumped up out of the smallest motorized vehicle that I have ever seen and yelled, "Chinese Fire Drill". The light turned green but I stayed put. Clowns were running beside me, around me, one even tried to open my door(good thing I had it locked) all jumping up and waving, one tripped over his feet, one pulled a flower from his sleeve, one honked his nose at me and one handed me a balloon in the shape of a wiener dog. As the light turned back to red, they hopped back into that car, made a right turn and sped off. I had to wait for the light to turn green again and I was shocked to hear a bleep, bleep once again. I looked up and saw that little car heading my way again and thought, "I don't think so." I didn't care what color the light was, I slammed that Mustang down into first gear, hit that pile of manure, hit the emergency brake, squalled the tires, and laid down a piece of rubber that would've made Old Number 3 right proud. I left them clowns choking and gasping in my dust.
I had to stop and get gas before I left town and was alittle uneasy when a guy in a clown suit pulled up at the next pump. He smiled at me and I just kind of looked away. I heard his cell phone ring and he began to talk to someone. I had finished pumping my gas and looked backed over at the clown.(He wasn't there) As I did so, I heard a 'honk', I jumped out of my skin, turned back around and there stood the clown. "My friends just called and said you really made their day with that manuever back at the light", he said. "They want to know if you want to go to the next town and be in the parade with them?"(Sign me up!)
Monday, July 4, 2011
|Orignally published July '08
The scene--Any small town in a state that doesn't allow fireworks, namely Georgia.
A guy walks into his local courthouse and asks where he can get a permit. The guard sends him down to the permit office. There is a really long line and only one window open. He admits to himself that this permit thing must be a pretty good idea, 'cause everyone here seems to be getting one. After all, on July 4th, he always hears fireworks going off all over town, so, they must have a permit, right?
The man finally reaches the counter after one lunch break, and two smoke breaks and asks the lady about applying for a permit. She pulls out the forms and said that the fee was going to be $500.00. He scratches his head and thought that that sounded like a lot of money. "Ma'am, why does it cost so much to get a permit to let off fireworks," he asked?
"Let off fireworks," she said. "Don't you know that is illegal in this state?"
The man scratched his head once again and then asked, "What are all of these people here for?"
"Sir, this is the tag office," she said.
The man, quite confused by this time, looks up and asks, "Where does the city get its permit to let off fireworks for the community each year?"
The lady, quite at a loss for words looks up and says, "Wait right here, I'm gonna go get my supervisor."
Enjoy your 4th of July wherever you are and remember this: Let the professionals shoot off the fireworks, because they have a permit. Just don't ask to see it.