Justin other day

My day consisted of :
1)A really big surprise pit stop:
Once again, I managed to drink a gallon of ginseng green tea before noon as I drove to Nashville. That resulted in my needing to make an unplanned pit stop at a gas station just off the interstate. Where’s a good catheter when you need one? Anyleak, I pulled off the interstate and quickly parked. I think I did my best time ever in the 100 yard dash that I made from my car to the gas station’s unisex bathroom. I flung the door open wide just before my bladder yelled “There she blows!” Before I could stop my quick step into the bathroom, I heard an “Oh!” coming from inside the bathroom. I looked up and right in front of me was a little old lady sitting on the toilet. There was no stall or anything, just me and her…and my bladder. I closed the door and apologized all over myself. It was odd but all of the sudden, I didn’t have to use the bathroom anymore. My brain had taken over and it was mind over bladder. I made it all the way to my destination just fine. Her photograph and sound byte are etched into my brain along with many other non-erasable items.

2) Free cheesecake (nothing more to add here…oh yeah, it was turtle cheesecake)

3) Calling aesthetic centers all over Murfreesboro to get donations for a silent auction:
I got a call back from one office and the secretary was so quiet that I couldn’t understand a word she said. I was talking to the “Phone Whisperer”. Why in the world would anyone hire someone to answer their phones if that person was just going to whisper to the clients? I called back and got someone else. After asking my usual questions, I got the following response:

R: Honey, we’ve got all kinds of stuff. You need to come into our office. How old are you?
Me: (password protected)
R: Oh yeah, honey, you definitely need to come in and get some work done. What do you do?
Me: Real Estate
R: Oh my gosh we have all kinds of real-a-tors that come in here. Oh yeah you need to come in. I mean people see those young real-a-tors out there and they look like they have all kinds of energy and people think “Shoot, that younger person is going to go right on down the road and sell my house.” Oh honey, you’ve got to compete! Nobody wants to work with someone that looks all old and tired. You need to get in here. We will fix you up. You need a peel to make you not look so tired.
Me:……….......................................................................
R: We’ve got all kinds of peels. Some places, you go there and they will burn your face off, but not here. We have all kinds of peels; we’ve got…. uhmmm…I can’t remember what they are called but they don’t burn at all much, not hardly …no, you can almost go right back to work...sometimes. You can’t go around looking all old; honey you need to get in here.
Me: I can hardly wait to face the public today. Thanks for the pep talk.
R: See, honey I told you. You need to get in here. Those younger looking people are going to get all your business. Can you come in next Thursday? I have some openings.

It then hit me that she had just been through a sales training seminar and was currently dangerous. I told her I had a bad connection (I felt like we did) and I hung up. All I could think was that I needed to go buy a veil before burdening the general public with my hideousness.

4) Went to eat dinner and Justin Beiber hummed to me:
I went to eat and my waiter had the old Beiber-do back when it was at its longest. He did not wear it well and I think he was a college student. I think that look might still work if you are the age Justin was when he sported it. Anybody Beiber’s age needs to progress as he did with his hair. It’s kind of the same concept as the bowl cut. It’s cute on kids but on adult males it screams, “I have a shoebox under my bed covered in glitter.” Anyshag, Beiber-server had a unique speech pattern in which he added a hum after each sentence:
“How are you doing this evening..mmmmmm. Can I start you off with something to drink?…mmmmmmm” It was somewhere between a hum and a nervous laugh. He continued, “So that’s the barbeque chicken mmmmmm, grilled zucchini mmmm, and a salad? mmmmmmm” I didn’t know what to make of it. A shaggy/nervous/humming/Beiber was such an odd way to end today…or was it? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Here, at the end of the day, I just can’t get that little old lady’s face out of my mind. It was just a wide open bathroom and there she was sitting on the toilet, big as life and I was standing a step inside the door while still holding the door all the way open. She said, “Oh” and then reached up with both hands and grabbed her wig like it was getting ready to blow off. You just never know how you are going to react in emergencies. For her, that wig was priority numero uno. As for the cheesecake, I am saying that special occasion deserts have no calories so I can just write that experience off and forget about it. As for my hideousness, I think I might have to send the “phone whisperer” and the “tough love/ honey badger/sales woman” a little “customer service survey” with a few hints and tips-o-the trade. Finally, Justin…man…I have no words for that Beiber buzzer. I wouldn’t even know where to start except to thank him for allowing me to feel like my life has gotten back to normal again after a few weeks of non-eventfullness.

The Legend Of Matortunia

There are many legends out there. Many are so old and have been told in so many different ways throughout history that they have become mixed with fact and fiction and it is often hard to tell what is real and what is not. We have legends of events, people, ghosts and creatures. Two of the most notorious creatures of legend are the Loch Nest Monster and Big Foot. Hundreds of recorded stories of sightings and close calls have been reported. The Loch Nest Monster has a hand full of blurred pictures that often look like either a prehistoric water creature or a dead tree floating downriver. Many fisherman of old and new have tales to tell about their encounters with the massive elusive beast.

Big Foot and been the subject of fear for hundreds of years. There are a few fuzzy pictures that cannot confirm nor deny its existence and there is that one iconic video. There is that one grainy video of a huge man/ape creature walking through the woods and turning to look at the camera. It’s chilling.

http://youtu.be/FWGYTHK3E30

I thought it was time to tell of another legendary creature. It is someting many of  you have heard me mention before. It is a legend that is soon to be a distant memory. It is the legend of Matortunia. I thought that while I can, I will document the story and the few rare photographs to separate the fact from the fiction and to keep this legend alive  (as long as the blog site remains free, after that it falls into the hands of the elderly to pass on their grandchildren).

Matortunia started as a concept in my mind. Myself a young, freakishly handsome farmer………ok, a 30+, good looking, landscape architect…..mmm, I guess people I know might read this so…hmmm, grrrrr…uhmmm, oy…myself, a middle age, average Joe with an empty flower pot in my overgrown back yard, decided that I was tired of going to the farmer’s market just to buy tomatoes. Going to the farmer’s market required going early (to get the good stuff) and I was not willing to do my morning beauty regime before leaving. So off I would go with Fred Flintstone stubble, bed head and the previous day’s gym clothes to grab my two tomatoes for the week. The only purpose of those tomatoes was to put them on my ho’made biscuits. With that perfect combo, each morning I could eat like royalty (and by royalty, I mean like a star on Hee Haw). Unfortunately, everyone I had ever known would also be at the farmer’s market trying to politely, yet quickly grab all the good stuff too. I could see their stares. I could read their eyes. I know the looks of, “Wow, he has really let himself go. You know he used to iron his clothes and comb his hair…so sad.” So the looks of pity and Saturday morning alarms pushed me into getting creative.

I knew I wanted a tomato plant. I also knew that I did not want to spend great amounts of time weeding, etc. I had a massive “man/pot” that I had bought years ago for a rose topiary (once again with the concept of not having to weed). After a summer of forgetting it was there, the summer of hiring the Adios Grassmigos brothers to mow the yard, that rose bush died. The last memory I have of it was a big ball of yellow leaves covered in black spots. It was looked like a curled up cheetah…on a stick. That pot remained empty in my unused back yard for quite some time. I knew it was the perfect spot for my new farm.

Since my pot would be visible from one neighbor’s back yard, I came up with a plan to make it not so crazy looking. Instead of just having a massive flower pot sporting a tomato plant as my only decoration on an unused back patio, I thought I would spramp it up a bit and surround it with petunias. Thus, the perfect marriage of form and function and the creation of "Matortunia" began. I bought the extra large cage for the tomato plant to grow and play in. From that point on, all I had to do for Matortunia was water it, feed it and let nature take its course. Viola, Matortunia.

Everything was fine. Matortunia was growing and thriving in its natural caged, potted environment. Then it happened. Many of you may remember it; many of you have forgotten. It was an event that literally reshaped the life of Matortunia. I am talking about “The Wind Gust of 2012”. Yes, Matortunia was bursting with tomatoes and had gotten quite top heavy. I came home one afternoon after the mayhem and found what looked to be the end for a legend gone too soon.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. All that work, all those dreams, was it over? I had no experience in these matters but I remembered the words of another top heavy legend (Dolly Parton) who had said that she had fallen many times and that she owed much of her success to “a great support system”. I knew what I had to do; it was at least worth a shot.

I had a plan. I wanted to resurrect Matortunia, but could I do it? Could I hoist and lift and piece back together something that could live a normal, healthy life that the neighborhood villagers wouldn’t mock or want to burn at the stake? All I could do was try. So with the agricultural/engineering calculations of a theatre major, I plotted my course. Armed only with a tall steel stand for hanging pots, four eight foot poles, plastic coated wire and lots of Sheer Energy Mocha panty hose, I faced the challenge to save this soon to be legendary creature and bring it back to life (insert maniacal laugh here).

It wasn’t easy. I miscalculated the first pole and it rammed through the side of the pot. I have heard of stories like this. The stories where in life or death situations people get an adrenalin rush and have superhuman strength. All I can say is that it happens. I just had to keep moving forward, broken vessel and all. Knowing what to put where and how to tie things off became exhausting. I invented knots that you will never find in any Eagle Scout handbook. Before I knew it; I was done. There were only five casualties in the process: four tomatoes and my dignity/pride.

 My dignity/pride was actually lost twice. First it was lost at the store when I went in to buy panty hose. I wanted to get my money’s worth and I knew I had a giant plant to wrangle so I went for the biggest and baddest panty hose I could find…Sheer Energy extra tall Queen Plus...or something like that. I saw the look on the cashier’s face when I sat them down. She picked them up, gave me the up and down, looked back at the box with a “mmm,hhmmm” look and gave me my total. I started to explain but I know how I tend to ramble and make matters worse so I just let it go. Let tell you, those hose are a work of modern technology. They are paper thin, can stretch forever and are strong as rope. Thank you NASA. My second loss of dignity/pride was about half way through my bridge building/life support attempt with Matortunia. This was odd since my next door neighbor, the one with the view of my back yard, was adding on to the back of her house. Her yard was filled with a handful of construction workers who had been hammering, sawing and telling loud stories all day. When I noticed that everything had gone quiet, I took a quick glance over to see that they had stopped everything…everything to watch the master at work. I am not sure if seeing me stand in a chair with tons of panty hose wrapped around my neck while wrestling and eight foot tomato plant in a 2 ½ foot tall pot was a case of the “train wreck you can’t look away from” or if it was one of those “man vs. beast’ type situations. All I know is that they were mesmerized and completely silent. To be honest, if I had to guess, I think it was all the panty hose. Let’s face it, men have issues. Anyway, I continued on and eventually finished. I stepped back to look. Everything was holding; it looked strong. Only time would tell. Dolly would have been proud.

The next morning I got up and went out to check on my re-creation. The leaves had not drooped, nothing was wilting. It looked bigger and better than ever. It looked strong; it was alive!! (Insert second maniacal laugh here). Yes, maybe it was a bit odd looking to those that might see it but it was alive and doing well. I know what the neighborhood villagers are thinking. I know the scoffs, the finger pointing and I can hear the chants of “Frankentunia Matorstein”. Still, when I look at this green monster, I see the same little tomato plant surrounded by its colorful friends. Maybe the petunias are a bit “long in the tooth” but they still bloom and Matortunia is still growing and has about 40 more tomatoes yet to ripen. One day soon this will all be a distant memory but it is one legend that we will all know is true. I will leave you with the current documented picture made with a professional tomato model that is 6’2” (on a big hair day) and about 195lbs (on a pizza free week).

Of course Matortunia is actually much taller than the wooden posts but it was just impossible to straighten the limbs any more without breaking them. At least now you can have some perspective. Anyway, there you have it...The Legend of Matortunia. I just hope that when the neighborhood villagers talk (and oh yes, there will be talk) I hope that they recount the legend as it is told here and that they will be kind.