Odd Things About Me!

Well, if I’m going to write something for this blog every week… okay, maybe it won’t be every week because I’m just not good at doing anything EVERY week. So maybe before you keep reading this weekly thing I should acquaint you with some of the odd things I can think of about me (but there are probably many more) before you waste your time reading this blog.

By the way: until Christine (who works for Smoke Inn) asked me to write this, I swear I did not even know what a blog was. So, here’s a little about me:

My lucky number has always been the number 4, and I always notice when a clock shows 4:44 for some reason. When I was in the first grade (and that’s before most of you were even born) they would always give out a little container of milk and a cookie at recess. I remember so clearly that one day there was an extra little container of milk and the teacher had us guess a number to see who would get the extra container. By the time the teacher (her name was Mrs. Rose) got to me, the number 4 was already taken by someone else, so I guessed THREE and I won! I think that’s the only thing I ever won in my life, but for some stupid reason I still think the number 4 is my lucky number — proving that I am a really difficult learner.

I am right-handed but did not know I was left eye dominant till about 10 years ago when I took my one and only archery lesson and could not hit a target just 10 feet away.  The instructor had me close my right eye instead of my left, and all of a sudden, I could hit targets 3 or 4 times as far! How come the instructors in the Marine Corps never figured that out?

Again, I am right-handed, but I always deal cards and count money left-handed!

I can remember some things from the past in exquisite detail yet completely forget other things even when described to me. And peoples” names? Forget about it. I am paralyzed when I have to introduce people I have known forever to each other. And… I almost never know what day of the week it is. Why is that so important anyway? What difference does it make? Well, yeah, I do hafta take the garbage out to the curb on Tuesdays and Fridays, so I guess that counts for something.

Any form of jewelry, tags in the back of my shirt, anything not absolutely perfect about how a shirt lies on my neck or back, or any rubber like printing that is on a tee shirt, annoys the shit out of me and becomes the one and only thing I can think about.

Now that I have had cataract surgery and no longer need to wear prescription glasses, I still cannot see where my golf ball goes after I hit it, or anyone else’s ball for that matter. Even when I drive up near any ball, everyone else seems to have seen it long before I do. 

I get lost in random thought very easily and I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have driven somewhere and have absolutely no recollection of how I got there! Sometimes it’s frightening! Just last week I was playing golf with a friend on the 10th hole and as we got back into the golf cart he asked me how many putts I took, and I said “did I putt? “— scary!

I cannot remember my two sons, Shane and Luke’s birthdays, no matter how many times I go into the basement and look at the chart my daughter Marni painted on the wall for me that shows everyone’s birthday!

I have no clue as to what an adjective or an adverb are even though I’m sure there are a number of them in this little piece of writing. Many times, playing scrabble with LaVonda, she’ll put down a word and I’ll ask: “can I add an S to that word?”, and she’ll say: “It’s an adjective” and I’ll think: “It’s an adjective… what the F#%K does that mean?” By the way, I failed English in the 7th grade, but still got promoted. The teacher was named Mr. McCullom, a real prick if ever there was one.

I can eat most vegetables raw, but dislike all the same ones cooked. LaVonda’s baked beans are the exception. Obviously, they are a lot better cooked than raw! Shhh…  I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I doubt LaVonda will be reading this blog. LaVonda puts a ton of Bacon in her beans! I’m of the opinion that if you wrapped a good-looking strip of well-done bacon around a turd people would eat it. Bacon may very well be mankind’s greatest invention. It’s either Bacon or the remote channel changer — one of the two for sure.

Finally, I think there is something radically wrong with anyone who will eat Velveeta. That is really some disgusting stuff. When me and LaVonda were first married and lived out in Kansas, people put that shit on everything. Woof….

Well, That’s it for now. I think I’m enjoying this blog stuff!

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Smoke Inn, its employees, or its affiliates.