Walmart

We've all had our peculiar Walmart experiences and I'm not about to pretend like my Walmart experience is superior to yours, but I thought I'd share it.

I like Walmart. I shop there all the time. Mostly I like it because I don't feel like I'm being judged. I mean... how can people judge me when it's obvious I'm so much better than them?

So I'm there with my friend and we're on the Kool-aid isle (I'm not sure why) and this guy walks past us and I smell a distinct odor of Pine. Not like Pine-sol, but actual Pine Trees. Then my friend says, "Hey Cameron. Check out the Mountain Man. Dude looks like Paul Bunyan." The guy had one of the thickest beards I'd ever seen and he was wearing an equally thick, red, turtleneck sweatshirt. He had on some plaid shorts and some hiking boots. My friend was right... he DID look rather odd. The problem was, Mountain Man was way too close to us for my friend to be mocking him as loudly as he was.

Sure enough, immediately following my friends "Paul Bunyan" comment Mountain Man looks over at us and makes eye contact with me as I'm trying to identify who my friend is referring to. Then Mountain Man, without breaking eye contact, starts walking swiftly toward me with a fairly aggressive look on his face. I mumble something like, "Nice one, dude. Here he comes. He totally heard you."

Mountain Man gets about 12 inches away from my face and I'm fully expecting some sort of physical attack. I mean, really.... there are a lot of crazy people who shop at Walmart. Anything is possible. Then this dude unleashes the most bizarre, ranting, soapbox-type speech I've ever heard. It went something like this (keep in mind, the rant was directed toward me while my friend was standing three feet away trying not to laugh): "I heard what you said" (I tried to motion toward my friend, but MM wasn't having it) "Just because I'm wearing this sweater doesn't give you the right to speak ill. I own a business and I'll tell you right now if you worked for me I'd fire your ass on the spot for making that sort of derogatory comment. I used to teach at a local college and I taught my students to never speak in such a way." I stood there for about 10 seconds slowly realizing that this guy was crazy. He was making less sense with each sentence. Finally, MM wandered away and my friend thought it was hilarious.

So we get our stuff and make our way to the checkout lines. I keep noticing MM as he wanders around the store and I also notice he keeps staring at me in a sex offender kind of way. It was pretty creepy. His red sweater just kept jumping out at me every time he was in my field of vision. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. Then my friend says, "I'm gonna go over to that line. It looks like it's moving faster." So he goes over to the other line, but after about five minutes it's obvious the checker on his line is going really, really, really slow, so he bounces back to my line. Then he says (again, way too loudly) "I'm coming back over here, that checker is freakin' retarded!" The 20-something year old girl in front of us in line turns around and says, "That checker is my sister and she's not retarded. She's actually one of the best checkers this store has." I'm thinking, "Seriously, get me out of this store." My friend replies, "I wasn't talking about THAT checker. It was the one over there. She's going really slow."

So the line keeps moving and we finally get up to the cashier. All of a sudden, I remembered that a few days earlier I had seen a girl I went to elementary school with named Marilee working at this exact store. Marilee was probably the one girl in my class who was dorkier than I was. I thought, "Maybe I could have this checker pass on a 'hello' to her. I'm sure she'd be flattered." So I say to the checker, "Does Marilee work here?" even though I knew she did. The checker says, "That name doesn't sound familiar. What does she look like?" Criminy. I stood there stuttering, trying to figure out a description that wasn't insulting. Then the checker says, "I think I know who you're talking about. Does she work graveyards with her mom? They're both fat?" I sighed and said, "Yeah. That's her. Can you tell her I said 'hi'?"

While I'm walking out of the store with my friend who can't stop laughing, I start telling him about how I can't believe how uncomfortable and bizarre this trip to Walmart had turned out. As I'm explaining to him that I don't think things could get any more weird, a four-year-old kid with a mullet sprints past me and bolts out the sliding doors toward the parking lot.

I hear a lady behind me scream "Timmy. Don't run into the road like that! Do you want to get hit again?"

Coolness

I really hope my kids are cooler and more popular than I was in school.

I guess there's no way to really know for sure, though, is there?

Hug, Kiss, Touch, Scratch

I'm not exactly sure how it started, but at some point the usual "hug and kiss" morphed into a "hug, kiss, touch, scratch". I think it was because when Tyton was two or three years old he wanted to prolong the goodbye's by hugging for a longer period of time. I'm pretty sure it was Tyton who requested the loving "touch" as part of the goodbye. Then, shortly thereafter, we started including a "scratch" which consists of a simple scratch on the back, arm, head, or something.

It's really fun to do and I almost forget we're the only family who does this... until we mention it casually without thinking and then we're forced to explain what we're talking about.

Well, last Tuesday I was on my way to a church meeting at about 7pm. I had pulled out of the driveway when I saw Tyton sprinting toward me from the backdoor. I started coasting away from the house... intending to blow Tyton a kiss or something since I'd forgotten to participate in our usual goodbye ritual. Tyton started cutting across our side yard which ends abruptly at a two foot concrete barrier which then drops off to our neighbor's driveway.

Tyton was yelling "DAAAAAD, YOU FORGOT A HUG, KISS, TOUCH, SCRA-a-a-a-" as he tumbled off the two-foot wall onto the neighbors driveway. He jumped up so quickly, I actually wondered if he'd landed on a mini-trampoline. He started saying, "I'm ok. It didn't even hurt. I'm fine." Looking back, it's obvious he was trying to act unhurt because Betsy and I always tell him not to run in the side yard for fear he'll tumble off the wall and get hurt... which is exactly what had happened.

I say to him, "Are you sure? Your hands or knees didn't get scraped or anything?"

"Nope," he said as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then I noticed the blood running down his forehead. He still hadn't noticed the blood all over his arm and running down his cheek. I scooped him up and started telling him not to freak out. He was confused. He didn't know why I was telling him not to freak out. Then he noticed the blood dripping off his chin onto the pavement. "What's that?" he asked, "Is that from me?" "Yeah," I said, "you just got a little cut."

We got the bleeding stopped and took him to Instacare since it looked like he might need a few stitches.

The doctor said "It looks pretty straight and it's not gaping so we can use glue on this." The funniest part about it was when the doctor, nurse, receptionist and pretty much every other employee asked how this had happened. I know they're REALLY asking, "Did you slam your kids' head against a doorjamb?", but I had to keep explaining what had happened and every time I told the story, I'd say, "I forgot to give Ty a hug and kiss so he was running-" then Ty would cut me off with a correction for the Instacare staff, "Hug, kiss, touch, scratch." They'd look at me with a baffled expression and I'd explain the "touch, scratch" portion of the farewell.

The rest of the doctor visit was great. Tyton never cried. Not once. He even laughed a couple of times. At one point, while the doctor was holding the cut closed after applying the glue Tyton asked, "Why don't you blow on it?" The doctor replied, "Because I don't want to blow my germs all over your cut." Tyton thought that was hilarious for some reason.

Correctional Contretemps

A few months ago I was at work and it was a Friday, which meant my "team" was in charge of sitting in the check-in area of our building. All day long, probationers and parolees reported to our building and my team checked them in, paged their respective agents, ran them for warrants, and on occasion we took certain individuals into custody and had them sit in our "waiting room", handcuffed to the bench, while we wait for someone to be have enough free time to transport said individual to jail.

So I'm sitting there and I get this whiff of serious flatulence. I overhear a couple other agents joking about how someone at the front desk must have gas. I was pretty sure it wasn't me, but I've been known to fluff without noticing so I realized it was possible the air had escaped from me.

The odor became significantly stronger. Much, much stronger. The jokes about "who farted?" became much less entertaining and I actually checked the bottom of my shoes. The smell was almost overpowering.

Then one of my coworkers came up behind me. I said to him, "Dude, do you smell that? Was that you?" (I guess the joke wasn't THAT old). He says to me, "No. Someone just crapped their pants."

I laughed and said, "That wouldn't surprise me."

He gagged audibly (which was funny in and of itself) and said, "No seriously. An offender just *gag* shit his pants while he was getting *gag* handcuffed!" Then my coworker walked briskly... almost ran... out of the check-in area toward the bathroom. I'm not sure if he threw up or not, but he easily could have.

Curiosity overcame me and I wandered out to the hallway where we typically arrest people and I see several more of my coworkers cleaning up a puddle of poo that was spreading across the tile (seems like we should have hired specific people to do that for us).

I've never been arrested before, so I don't know what goes through someone's mind when the idea settles in that they're being returned to jail or prison for an extended period of time... but if I knew it was a possibility, I'd definitely empty my bowels first... unless I wanted to "stick it" to my P.O. one final time. That would be funny.

PS Febreeze doesn't work for serious odor problems such as this.

You're HOT!

I've been trying to figure out the best way to write this post without making it too complicated. I think I've figured out the best way to do it and it involves some visual aids.

Over the last several months, my blog has morphed into a redundant discussion about homosexuals, being gay, and what makes a person (specifically me) gay. That's fine. I don't think my "sensitive side" is any more overt than other dudes', but what makes me stand out is my willingness to admit it, discuss it, dissect it, and laugh about it. That probably makes me seem more gay than I really am.

Backstory: Did you read about Pizzagate? The story about the pizza delivery girl who took pizza to Senator Brambles house and stood idly by while Bramble exhibited many ass-like qualities for several minutes? Well I read it, and I thought it was hilarious. I even made a comment on her blog, but so did about 125 other people so I figured my comment would disappear into the background. Which it did... for the most part.

The next day I received a comment from a complete stranger on my blog. The comment was about Spongebob Squarepants. It was an innocent comment, but I don't get comments from strangers very often. I went out of my way to figure out who had left it. I went to the author's blog (who goes by Ridor). His blog was really busy and chaotic, but I skimmed through it quickly in an attempt to figure out who he was and how he found my blog. I read a sentence in his blog about how he is deaf. I thought, "Cool. A deaf guy is commenting on my blog." For the record, I think deaf people are pretty cool. I wish I knew a deaf person personally. This comment is just as good.

Then, just as I was about ready to click away from his blog, I read another sentence about how this Ridor character is gay. He's out of the closet and openly discussing his gayness and deafness in his blog. "Ok," I think, "that's pretty cool... I guess. A gay deaf guy found my blog and made a comment on it."

At this point I'm still kind of confused as to how this dude from the east coast found my blog. Then I remembered my comment about Senator Bramble. I thought, "I wonder if Ridor read my comment on that pizza girls blog and then clicked on my blog cause he liked my comment."

When I made my comment, I clicked the box that said I wanted all future comments emailed to me. This comment from Ridor was forwarded to me as I'd requested. It was made about 15 or 20 comments after my own.

Ridor's comment was pertinent and straight forward... until the last sentence. Ridor is deaf. Ridor is gay. Ridor thinks I'm hot. Cameron can hear. Cameron is straight. Cameron is flattered. Some guys would be offended at a comment like this. I wasn't, even though hundreds of other readers have undoubtedly read this comment and now know that Ridor thinks Cameron is HOT!!!

I don't know if Ridor still reads my blog or if it was just a one time thing. But Ridor can read my blog and lust after me all he wants. I'm straight and I have no romantic interest in dudes with very few exceptions. But I think everybody has a deep down desire to be found attractive. I want all the girls in the world to think I'm smokin' hot. I know I'm only about a 6 (if a 1 is a RMC), but I still want to be found attractive. And I honestly don't mind if the occasional dude finds me attractive, as well.

I've also found that the people who are most offended at stuff like this, usually like to make out with members of the same gender and are scared of being found out.

Thanks, Ridor. You've boosted my self-esteem. Lust away, my friend. Lust away.

Homework

I don't know why I thought this was so funny. This is Tyton's first packet of homework. He sat at the table this afternoon and did about 10 pages since he decided not to do it during the week and it's due tomorrow (I wonder who he takes after).

The instructions are to circle all of the letter S's on the page. I had to read Tyton the instructions, but he took them VERY seriously even though he missed a couple of them.

He did it in pencil so it's hard to make out all the circles. You may need to click on the photo to blow it up big enough to see.

Tee Hee

When I was growing up, my dad had a lot of funny sayings that he thought were intelligent and original... but to his children, well... they were just ridiculous. Whenever we'd make fun of him for the things he'd say, he always say the same thing in rebuttal (which ended up turning into another avenue for mockery). While all of his offspring were laughing and making fun of him, he'd shake his head, sigh and say to himself "So easily entertained."

Those words popped into my head when I logged into my blog the other night and saw this:



I giggled silently to myself when I saw the Hit Counter number.

Hee Hee. "Boob". It really doesn't take much to entertain me.