Posting daily at 1pm central about all kinds of things. One day it's dating, the next it's TV commercials. I hope you're entertained. Professional photos on SmugMug – https://benwilder.smugmug.com
I know I’m not the only narcissistic person in the world, and for me it mostly shows up during my afternoon jog/workouts. There’s a sidewalk over on James Robertson Parkway beside a building with reflective windows. Every time I jog past those windows, I make a point to look at myself on the way… and the way back. Hey, if helps me stay motivated, I’ll keep doing it!
“I’m looking at the man in the mirror, oh yeah!”
It’s one of those things that you don’t realize is happening till it’s a regular occurrence. Actually, if I had to boil most of what my dogs know, it’s happened that way. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve taught Piper to sit, shake, crawl under, halt, and a few other things. I’ve taught Asia to come, stay, retrieve (at least, her frisbee), sit, and shake. But a lot of how they behave is simply based on repetition. So this phrase I’ve been saying for years, “Alright… night, night,” has been one of those repetitive things that has paid off in the long run because when the dogs hear “night, night,” they know what to do. And that’s go back to sleep. It’s awesome, especially at 330am when they scratch on the door ready for breakfast! Other repetitive behaviors and phrases the dogs have picked up on:
1. When I park in the driveway and hit the car door locks, the horn honks and the dogs come running to see me from the back yard.
2. “Let’s eat!” My dogs will sprint towards their food bowls, tails a-waggin’.
3. “Leave it!” They’ll drop whatever they have in their mouth, hopefully.
4. “Well, if it isn’t Piper the dog!” Piper begins to whine and squeal.
5. When I grab their harnesses, they both get excited for a walk.
6. “Rabbit?” Piper (a beagle) goes burzurk.
Just to name a few.
Alright… night, night.
-Out of the Wilderness
Anyone know the plural of “y’all”? It’s “all y’all.”
Anyway, it’s been going on since the first redneck said “y’all.” I’m talking about combining words to make shorter words. This sort of mashing up doesn’t really concern me, because it’s unstoppable. But a recent trend isn’t sitting well with me. Combining words that have no business being combined. Over the course of some months I jotted a few down. Let’s start with the one girls invented… brunch. Men don’t eat brunch. We eat breakfast. We eat lunch. Anything in between is just another breakfast, or a first lunch. Here’s the rest of the list.
Brunch. More on this, here.
Cassingle. A cassette tape featuring a single song from your favorite artist.
Liger. A cross between a lion and a tiger. Bred for it’s skills in magic.
Infotainment. Car commercial promoting the vehicle’s information/entertainment system.
Twitterverse. Not a real universe.
blogosphere. Wrong on many levels.
Brangelina. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Bennifer. Ben Affleck and any Jennifer he’s dating/marrying at the time.
Minajesty. Often a sarcastic reference to Nicki Minaj.
Beautimous. I heard this on Honey Boo Boo. Beatiful + ??? = Beautimous.
Twerk. Twerking. To work. People all over the country are getting in trouble for this one. Even Miley Cyrus.
And the worst of them all… Subway’s “FebruANY.” C’mon son. That’s elementaweak.
I was a 3rd grader at Maximo Elementary School in St. Petersburg, Florida. This was the year a substitute teacher, Mrs. Bee, had a seisure. One of the scariest things I’ve ever seen but it did have a silver lining. The pretty teacher next door, I got to sit in her lap as a way to deal with my pain and suffering. Oh, and Mrs. Bee was fine. That’s important, too. It was also in 3rd grade I met the funniest person I’ve ever known. This kid made me laugh so much until one day he didn’t show up to school. A few days later his mom came and gathered his things from the classroom. I didn’t think that was funny at all. But the best memory of 3rd grade was when I fell in love with Mary Jane.
She was the object of my heart’s affection. So much so that I filled up the back cover of one of my little notebooks with the phrase, “I love Mary Jane. I love Mary Jane. I love Mary Jane,” over and over until there was no room left. Maybe it was the way she colored outside the lines. Maybe it was how fast she ran during recess. But obviously, I was OCD’ing for her big time, and the back of my notebook proved it. Was it love? Probably not. But to this day, the name Mary Jane is special because of that little 3rd grade crush. Her parents probably named her that for other reasons that we didn’t understand at such a young age, but I’ll continue assuming it’s a family name. And I’ll continue with the memory of Mary Jane as the first girl I loved. Even before Cyndi Lauper.
The other day I was returning home from a trip to Sam’s Club and came up on an old Lincoln Towncar with little tires. It was bouncing up and down and I thought to myself, “Hey, the mid-90s called and want their hydrolics back!”
Out of the Wilderness 