My Prerogative

My prerogative.  Those two words evoke such a strong response in me.  It takes me back to 1988 when times were simpler and the movie Rain Man was number one.  It is also the title of a song that has a strange effect on me.
I can’t explain it.
For whatever reason, when Bobby Brown invites everyone to “get busy” at the song’s start, it is like a green light for me to start dancing.  I don’t know if it is the steady beat of the synth drums or the dynamic lyrics where Mr. Brown made a hit whilst using the word “prerogative” in an R&B song — it makes me want to move.
The movements I am inclined to perform are similar to a bird without wings that is trying to fly.  Other moves include gravity-defying slides on one foot to the left, then to the right and then of course back again.  There is also lots of fist pumping and biting of my bottom lip.  Though I have never been able to pull those moves together collectively in public, I fear that if I ever do, I may explode into a fiery dance-bird or be signed as a stage dancer for an 80’s tribute tour.
One thing I can assure you — you will never see this dance of mine performed.  Unless of course you are hiding in my storage building early in the morning where I like to work out and listen to music — and sometimes dance.

The Trouble with Beards: 3

The following is an interview with fellow Beardy, Walter Howard.

After having just filled our bellies with food from Zesto’s Grill (your typical Italian/Greek/American restaurant), Walter opened up and shared his heart regarding the highs and the lows of having a beard.

Me: Walter, you and I have known each other for how long now?

Walter: About two years.

Me: I don’t think that’s right, but for the sake of the interview we’re going to press forward.  You are sporting a pretty nice beard, is this something you do every year?

Walter: I usually try it for a little bit — usually about once or twice a year.

Me: Why do you give up?

Walter: (While gently petting a horse)  I usually can’t persevere through the itchy phase.

Me: When did you first realize you could actually grow a beard?

Walter: I think when I was seven.

Me: Seven?  That is pretty early.

Walter: (Approving nod)

Me: Now I am going to go out on a limb here and say that I think that you are a Connector.  By Connector I mean that you can grow a beard all the way down to your chest.  Is that true?

Walter: (Puts saddle on horse)  Unfortunately yes, yes it is.

Me: How do you know where to top shaving?

Walter: (Climbs onto horse and settles into the saddle)  I think it comes down to personal choice.  I mean, everybody decides how far they want the beard to go down.  It’s really about accenting the chin.  You want to draw the chin into it.  When I say, “That’s enough chin”, then usually I shave from there down.

Me: What do you find most troubling about having a beard?

Walter: It’s not as easy as I thought it would be.  I am pretty symmetrical — pretty detailed , so just keeping all those guys under control probably.

Me: So the fact that your beard is not symmetrical, that’s the most troubling part?

Walter: (Visibly irritated)  When it’s not, I mean, the effort of keeping it symmetrical — yes.

Me: Thank you for your time.

Walter: You’re welcome, thank you (Rides into sunset).

For the full interview, click below for your listening pleasure.

Nasty Little Submission 4

This nasty little doll photo was submitted by my Virginia pal, Dana Washburn.

The Nasty Little Challenge Rating (1 = disturbing, 5 = disturbing and may cause nightmares, 10 = disturbing, nightmare-causing and most likely to induce vomiting):
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I think based upon this photographic evidence, we all now know what happened to Elvis.  Because of the potential of that doll tracking me down and turning me into its own plastic plaything, I have given this one a 5 on the Nasty Little Challenge Rating.  Also, please note that the doll kept a momento — a full colour magazine on the “death” of Elvis.  Nice one nasty doll.

The Trouble with Beards:2

The following is an interview with fellow Beardy, Cole Harden

I sat down with Cole at a crowded little coffee joint on the campus of Gardner Webb University.  I have known Cole to sport a pretty fat beard in the past, but this time, his beard was “neatly” trimmed because apparently Cole “needs a job”.

Me: Hi, Kevin here from Broad River Coffee Company right across the street from Gardner Webb University in… are we in North Carolina?

Cole: Yes.

Me: Okay, in North Carolina.  Could you please, for official reasons, state your name — your full name?

Cole: Brian Nicholas Harden, otherwise known as Cole.

Me: Could you please spell that for me?

Cole: (Begins to trouble me by spelling his name)

Me: That’s, that’s good enough.  Could you please describe for me when you realized you had potential to grow a beard?

Cole: Well, I guess I was…15?

Me: 15…that is kind’ve early.  Did you start with the Thinstache or go right for the beard?

Cole: I went all out.  I’m kind’ve lazy so I just kinda went with it to see what would grow.

Me: Now, with your beard, is it a full wrap-around beard that connects from the front to the back or is it mostly confined to the front portion of your body?

Cole: (Offers a humourously puzzled look)

Me: Does it connect with your chest hair?

Cole: No, I wish.  I’m not quite that lucky.

Me: Nor am I.  What have you noticed about having a beard that proves to be troublesome?

Cole: It’s not so much having the beard that’s troublesome.  It’s shaving.

Me: Mhmm.

Cole: That is the troubling part.

Me: So the trouble with your beard is that it interrupts your laziness?

Cole: It does.  It just keeps growing and I can’t do anything about it.

Me: Thanks a lot.

For the full interview, click below for your listening pleasure.

The Trouble with Beards: 1

One thing I have noticed about having a beard:  things don’t fall away from your face.  They tend to cling.  And when you finally discover that fact — it is too late.  Everyone saw the crap dangling from your face.

The Trouble with Beards

People think that it is easy having a beard.  They think that life is a walk in the park.  They think that things come easy to bearded folk just because we have hair on our faces.  The general public thinks that people with beards possess magic and have pet dragons.  I beg to differ.
In the coming weeks, I plan to discuss the trouble with beards — the highs and the lows of being a man with an abundance of hair on his face.
I would also like to give you a chance to contribute.  If you are dude (or a brave girl) and you have a beard and a story, please send proof of both.
It is time for us to speak.

Bottom of the Barrel Bin 7

The thing I find most intriguing about this product is the sales pitch — The Shirtpocket Underwater Camcorder.  Apparently, there have been one too many instances where people have been diving with their family or friends, and they have reached to their shirtpocket only to find it empty.  To their disappointment, there was no underwater camcorder in existence that would fit in their shirtpocket to record memories whilst diving.  If only there were such an invention.  Well, rest easy now my diving-in-a-shirt-with-a-pocket friends — it is available for the low, low price of $199.95.  Maybe soon someone will invent sunglasses that you wear while you sleep, or better yet, a holster for your cell phone for when you are walking through fire.

Bottom of the Barrel Bin 6

Here is an ad for Casio, the same people that have been providing up and coming pianists with the demo button for years.  And apparently, according to this ad, Casio can also add a new dimension to your life — making you a big hit with the ladies or making you an upstanding member of a polygomist society.  Maybe it’s both, I mean, everyone is obviously having a super time.

Nasty Little Submission 3

This nasty little doll was submitted by my multi-talented pal, Page Phelps.

The Nasty Little Challenge Rating (1 = disturbing, 5 = disturbing and may cause nightmares, 10 = disturbing, nightmare-causing and most likely to induce vomiting):
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This submission perplexes me — my initial response to the photo is of course absolute dread.  I mean look at it.  There is a nasty little doll that lost its eye in some sort of horrific tussle and now he has his good eye on me.  The doll even went so far as to look up my blog and point to me and say, “Kevin (wipes blood from corner of mouth), I have found your pathetic blog.  I am tracking you down through your IP address.  I use the computer at night when your buddy Page is sleeping.  Relax for now Kevin — I am coming for you.  One little nasty pitter pat of my nasty little feet at a time.”
But then I also feel another way — the quality of the photo of the nasty little doll is amazing, dare I say…exquisite.  So as you can see, my perplexed brain was forced to give this one a 3 — the sheer awesomeness of the photo outweighs the terror.

Nasty Little Submission 2

This nasty little doll was submitted by my dear friend Leanne Boone.

The Nasty Little Challenge Rating
(1 = disturbing, 5 = disturbing and may cause nightmares, 10 = disturbing, nightmare-causing and most likely to induce vomiting):
1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9 10

This submission gets a 9.  I almost gave it a 10 because I had direct interaction with this nasty little doll several times.  The first encounter came when my dearest Framily member Stin (Austin Wickstrum), decided it would be a good gift for me.  Not only was the doll horrific, but it was the manner in which Stin presented it to me that adds to its horrendous rating.
It was early, about 5:55 AM, and I was headed outside for my morning run.  It was still dark, and my senses were still climbing out of bed several feet behind me.  I made my way through the crisp morning air.  I casually approached the door of my 1999 green Tahoe and grabbed the handle to gain access.  The door swung open and the dome light came on shedding light upon the vision of terror set before me.  Stin had taken that nasty little doll and placed it in the driver’s seat — both nasty arms were straight out as if reaching for my throat, while its nasty little head was slightly turned as if it had been watching my witless approach to my unknown destruction.  Stin had also tenderly buckled that nasty little doll in the seat.  That “safety measure” was the only thing preventing that nasty little doll from flying out of that cold seat like a winged demon to drag me to the very depths of hell.
This doll then ended up in the trusted hands of my co-workers (namely members of the Boone family) where blood was added to her mouth and an appendage or two were removed.  After undergoing several heart-stopping transformations,  the doll made several appearances in my office.  My “favourite” time was when I found it hanging by its neck with my name written on a tag attached to its nasty little chest.
Thanks everyone!  Keep them coming!  Thank you for participating and adding to the scars that refuse to heal!