I Don't Want To Grow Up

Have you ever felt like you needed a laugh track for your life? Maybe it's just me, but I find that on an almost daily basis, someone says or does something that just calls for a guffaw or two. Of course, that someone is usually me. As I go though my routine at the office, I find more and more that I seem to have lost several marbles somewhere along the journey of my life. I mean, when was the last time you saw a 35 year old man skip down a hallway whistling the theme from The Smurfs? Yes, I actually caught myself doing that for a moment. What's worse is that several of my coworkers observed this curious behavior as well. I cannot tell you what caused me to bound through the office in such a manner. Or that choice of a song. As I sat back down at my desk, I started to think about the numerous things of this nature I had done today and I was astounded. Not an hour before, I had been sitting here lip sync-ing 'Dancing Queen', complete with a Sharpie for a microphone. I seem to have a pet name for everyone in the office....Aquanetta, Miss Girl, and Playboy, to name a few. I got to the office first this morning, and when my boss arrived he asked me if I was having 'Club Tim' because I had music blaring out of my computer and was playing with the lights. And yesterday the son of a coworker was here, and I damn near destroyed two copiers and a fax machine trying to teach him how to stand on his head.

Something is clearly wrong here. Or is it? Sure, at times it probably seems that I may be a candidate for a padded room and adult incontinence undergarments. And there are those that will argue that Pampers would be a better choice, since I am so in tune with my inner child. I say, don't knock it until you've tried it. The next time you are outside (or as the case may be, in a hallway), try a cartwheel. If you get through it without breaking any bones, it can be quite a spirit booster. And never underestimate the power of spontaneously bursting forth in song. Sure, you may alienate a few people (or a few hundred if you are in a mall). Add little shuffle-ball-change in there and you might even earn a few coins in the process. Now if I can just find my Big Wheel, I am going to see if I can jump the handicapped ramp in front of my building...

To Sleep...Perchance to Dream

I have never had a problem falling asleep. Usually, within minutes of hitting the pillow, I drift off to the wonderful land of Slumber. I sleep like a corpse, except of course when Jack decides it is playtime at 3:48 am. And I have never needed an alarm clock to wake up; you could set Eastern Standard time by my biological clock. I normally do not recall most of my dreams, though lately I have been awakened in the morning thinking 'what the sam hell was that all about?'. Those in the know will tell you that remembering your dreams depends on whether or not you wake up in the midst of one. Or that the context of your dreams is dependent on daily factors that influence your life. Have a stressful job, you will dream about work. I have even been told that your dreams can be effected by eating before you go to sleep. Now I realize that having that bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate sauce, pecans, and whipped cream is a sure fire way to get a less than perfect night of sleep. All that sugar at 10 pm is bound to keep you wired. But come on, I don't think it induced the dream I had a couple of nights ago (when said bowl of ice cream was devoured). It was all still a little fuzzy when I woke up, but in the dream I was being chased by a woman with a butcher knife who for some reason thought I was holding her cat ransom. And when she caught up with me and proceeded to get down on one knee and propose to me in the middle of this city square with all these people looking on. I woke up with this image, and I may have discerned it's origins. Before I went to bed the previous night (and after the ice cream), I started reading a book a friend gave me, 'Husband Hunting Made Easy' (a feeble attempt by a concerned friend to get me settled down, but I will go into that soap opera at a later date). And I was awakened the next morning by my kitten Jack, who so lovingly had decided to use my nose as a chew toy. No amount of psycho-babble in the world will convince me that is was anything other than those two factors that converged to form that dream....the book and my cat. And perhaps an overactive imagination..

Did I forget to mention that the deranged lunatic that was chasing me was driving a Carvel Ice Cream truck???

The Blind Leading The Blind

I have a friend. Well, really, just an acquaintance. Ok, so we have only actually met once. She is a woman at a law firm that I correspond with daily through email for work. But we have developed quite the e-friendship, and I do consider her a friend. She is very insightful, and usually manages to have me in tears at least once a day, either through some touching story from her life or through some completely inappropriate remark about my lack of a sex life because I am single and her lack of a sex life because she is married. Well, she has decided to set me up on a date. sort of. She has a friend who has a friend who is supposedly just fabulous, and the two of them are in cahoots to get he and I together. Nevermind that my friend has never actually seen this guy. And she knows nothing about him. Just that he is gay, which, evidently, is the only deciding factor in this whole matchmaking scheme. So she gave him my email and me his and said go for it.

I figured I would at least say hello since she had gone to so much trouble to sort of introduce us. We have exchanged a few pleasantries, and he seems like a nice person as far as I can tell. We even got past the obligatory 'So tell me about yourself..what do you look like?' phase. We've been emailing back and forth about a week now. And the other shoe finally dropped. Just when I was thinking about suggesting that the four of us (yes, he and I and the two friends who set us up) meet for a friendly cup of java or perhaps something stronger, he informs me that he lives in South Carolina! It seems this little fact was left out of the equation when those two gals decided to play Cupid. And my friend knew it and didn't tell me. She thought it wouldn't matter. I suppose it shouldn't really, but it nonetheless does. I am not trying to end up on an episode of Ricky Lake entitled "My Long-Distance Carrier Ruined My Love Life'. Sheesh...

It's A Boy?

So yesterday I spent the day with my family. One of my sister's has a three year old son and a 9 month old daughter, and the two of them were baptized yesterday morning. My mom came in town, as did my younger sister, and all the extended family (you know, all those people who were 'aunts and uncles' when you were growing up) were there as well. It was a beautiful service, albeit a bit long. I am glad to have just survived. I had a sneaky suspicion that the church was going to go up in flames and consume my entire family as soon as I set foot in it. But I get ahead of myself.

I rode with my mother from my sister's house to the church. She was very much in 'grandma' mode, and just babble incessantly about how the two little ones had grown since she last saw them a month and a half ago. And then she said the eight words that brought the conversation to a screeching halt..."It's time for you to have a child". I couldn't even respond. I just sat staring straight ahead, surely with a look on my face that could only be read as 'what the hell????'. I thought she was making a funny, surely she couldn't have been serious. But she was. And proceeded to tell me about how she and my sisters had discussed it the night before and all were in agreement that I am going to make a great father. Nevermind the fact that I don't feel emotionally, mentally, or financially responsible to play daddy (no comments from the peanut gallery, please). She just kept gushing about how good I am with my niece and nephew and how I have always been good with kids, etc. Her response when I told her that I was not ready to have a child was that no one is 'ready'. Which I suppose is true to some extent. But I am too selfish right now to have that kind of responsibility. I enjoy being able to come and go as I please. That's why I got a kitty, hehe. I have a hard enough time trying to remember to clean out his litter box every day. And to see me do it, you'd think I was handling toxic waste. So you can imagine how I am around poopy diapers. I don't know if they ever have caught on, but in all the times I have babysat in the past three years, I have only had to change one messy diaper. Of course, I think that is really more due to sheer luck than anything. Or perhaps the little ones just want their parents to be able to share in their movements. Whatever the case, parenthood is not in the near future for me. I'll just stick to being Uncle Tim. I can spoil them rotten and let them do anything they want, and at the end of the day I can give them back to mom and dad.

And, if I am so ready to be a parent, why was I not asked to be a God-parent? Hmm...

Gezundheit!

Who would have ever thought that a two syllable word could render a grown man helpless? One moment I am enjoying a wonderful spring afternoon; the next I am reduced to a snivelling, snot-nosed phlegm factory. That's right...Pollen! Every spring we get doused with the yellow stuff. Last weekend was absolutely beautiful. Except for the thin layer of dust from the devil that covered everything in sight. I even called upon some friends upstairs and did a little rain dance, but it was too little, too late. The yellow marauders of my nasal nightmare had already stormed the castle, and taken up residence. What should have been couple of days of itchy eyes and runny nose has developed into hay fever. So here it is a week later, and I have taken every type of sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy headed, fever, so you can rest medicine there is out there. I have had Sudaphed induced crack dreams and technicolor expectorations courtesy of Vicks 44. I have had more than my share of chicken soup for my soul and enough vitamin C to keep the Florida Citrus Growers in tanning oil and flip flops for years to come. All is not lost though. During my sinus-imposed incarceration today, I have watched my 6 month old kitten, Jack, turn over two plants, try to strangle himself in the blinds, accidentally flush the toilet, and talk to himself in the mirror in the bedroom. Now I know what he does all day while I am out. And I watched a REALLY bad Charles Bronson movie, that had but one redeeming quality. But that's another blog entirely....

Too Legit To Quit???

Ok, so Atlanta's professional sports teams haven't really been known as a serious contender in the past couple of years. Well, maybe the Falcons are an exception. They just need to learn how to carry the momentum and not fall through in the clutch. But I will leave them alone...for now. Let's talk about the Atlanta Hawks.

Picture it...Atlanta, Georgia, 1996 (said in my best Sophia Patrillo voice...hehe). The Autumn air is crisp, the leaves have all turned, and it's basketball season once again. I was hired to perform as a member of the Atlanta Hawks Dance Team. It was truly groundbreaking. We were the first dance team in the NBA to have male dancers, and we were out to make a name for ourselves. Yeah sure, there were a few odd looks and jeers at the first couple of games, but once people got used to the idea we were well accepted. As a child (back in the days of Spud Webb and Dominic), my father used to take my sisters and I to a couple of games each season. But this was my first up close and personal experience with the NBA. I mean, there I was, sitting on the sidelines, rooting on my team. Having players jump over me trying to get a rebound, mugging for the camera (which usually meant getting cheesy with one of the female dance team members because all the photographers just wanted T & A shots!), and even walking out of the old Omni Arena next to Michael Jordan. The basketball team faired decently that season, and made it to the second round of the play-offs. The next couple of seasons the team did so-so, and there was a big transition as the team played at the Georgia World Congress Center and at the GA Tech auditorium during the construction of their current home, Phillips Arena. The 1998-1999 season was the last that I danced for them, but I have managed to keep up with the team.

Now, take a BIG step forward, and picture April 2005. The Hawks have faired less than notably for a couple of seasons. And attendance at home games is down. Once again, tomorrow night it's time for that sure-fire way to pack the house...Fan Appreciation Night!! Special ticket packages, lots of hotdogs, pretzels and Chik Fil-A to be had, and the Hawks are playing the Bulls. Not that the game would have the same draw as back in the days of Air Jordan, but surely there will be some warm bodies in the seats. And just to be sure, the powers-that-be have planned an after game concert.

The one....the only...MC Hammer! Need I say anything more? At a normal game, once the clock gets down to about 5 minutes left in the game, people start filing out, trying to beat the traffic rush. And I can't blame them. It's not very often that a game nowadays is a nail-biter and the outcome determined in those final moments. I don't know which will cause them to leave sooner tomorrow night, the failing play of the basketball team, or the thought of seeing Mr Hammer jumping around like he's stomping an ant hill. I know that 80's and early 90's music are trying to make a comeback, but come on. The man was on that MTV show 'The Surreal Life'. That's pretty much an admission that your career has hit rock bottom. If it weren't for that show, half the people at tomorrow night's Hawks game probably will probably be too young to even be able to tell you what he sang. This trip down Nostalgia Lane is sure to include such hits as 'U Can't Touch This', 'Turn This Mutha Out', and 'Too Legit To Quit'. Do we really need to see multi-color balloon striped pants, gold chains, and someone dancing so fast that the paramedics mistake it for a grande mal seizure?

Please, Hammer...Don't Hurt 'Em!!!

It's All Rigged!!!!

That's it!!! I am officially done with American Idol. I know, I know, there are much more important things in life to reflect on. Hey, it's my blog, so deal with it! Not that I watch it diligently and call in and vote for people (I like to at least PRETEND that I have a life). But I have caught it enough to know who the better performers are. And there is no way on God's green earth that Scott 'future serial killer' Savol and Bo 'I wanna be a hair model' Bice should have beaten Nadia Turner out last night. Granted, Nadia probably made some poor song choices in singing some songs that middle America isn't that familiar with. But that shouldn't matter. It's a TALENT competition folks, not a popularity contest. Of course, I don't know why I act shocked. It's not as if the best contestant won on any of the previous seasons of the show. And most likely, Miss Turner (the younger) will be able to go ahead and get started on her career, rather than being trapped in a contract by the heathens that run American Idol. Hey wait!!! This is a good thing. Good job, America. Thanks for setting Nadia free...

Say cheese!!!!

I am ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille! This is me. A headshot I had taken about a year ago.

In The Beginning...

Oh dear me, what have I done? This is truly going to be what best can be desribed as an experiment in sheer terror for some, utter confusion for others, and most likely, comic relief for most of you. I am sure the early stages of this will be quite the bore for those of you that know me, but perhaps a little background is neccesary for the masses. I will try to add an entry every day or so, but the way my crazy life goes, that may not always happen!

So what to say, what to say...

As I sit in here in front of my laptop, a little later in the afternoon, it dawns on me that I should be working on something for class for tonight. Yes I have started teaching again, this time at the Atlanta Ballet; teaching an adult advanced jazz class. It's only been a couple of weeks, but I think this will be a good place for me to be. Teaching new students, I can't get away with my old tricks; got to be a little more prepared. This will be a good thing....