The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘savannah’

Happy St. Patty’s! – And Remember, Not All Flirtations Are Equal

“Hey cutie. Call me in a few years when you’re old enough.”

This was said by a very large, very drunk woman on St. Patty’s to my 16 or 17 year old self.

Happy St. Patty’s Everyone!!

Weekly Wacko (64)

Ya’ll Ok, Sweety?

My family got in the car and left West Point, New York for Savannah, Georgia on January 1, 2000. The day all the computers were supposed to blow everything up.

When we arrived we made our home at the Hunter Army Airfield guest housing. Essentially, a hotel for Military families.

Sometime during that initial period in Georgia I had my first experience  with southern charm (that I could remember – I was born in North Carolina but don’t remember any of it).

Naturally, it occurred in a Waffle House.

To those of you who have never experienced a Waffle House, I’m sorry. They’re not the cleanest restaurants, or the most delicious, or the best-staffed but … you love them all the same.

The waitress came up to our booth and asked around the table to see what we wanted to eat.

One by one the orders were made.

Eventually, I believe I was last to order, she got to me.

“How bout you sweety?”

… Sweety … Really? … I … I mean my family’s here and you’re a lot older and clearly a heavy smoker but … I mean I guess I … Sure I try to be sweet but … I mean for you to realize that just by looking at me … All right, yeah we can go on a date sometime but … Well let’s not call it a date let’s just say we’re “hanging out” and we’ll see … Sweety? … Well, you’re sweet too and …

I was taken aback.

I had never been called a sweety before by a stranger. Possibly only my mom and some other friends of hers had called me a sweety.

But for this stranger to call me sweety! How nice!

There were a number of moments like this where I adjusted to the switch between New York and Georgia. It turns out, the North and South are different in a few ways.

***

At a diner near our home in New York the guy behind the counter would yell at you to see what you wanted. This my family loved – what’s not to love? Table-side manners are out, yelling is IN. But you know, I think I’m also ok with being called sweety.

Soapbox? Well, world, we’re all not so different, you know? Cultural differences and what-not, but what’s that? That’s something to appreciate! Take it in! Love it! It’s amazing how different we all are. If ever there was a reason to be impressed with mankind it is because of the amazing complexity of the human race. Between one person and the next. Seriously.

Weekly Wacko (63)

I saw this and it made me feel bad for not having gone to church in a LONG while … but I found this funny so here goes.

Born Again Comedy

(Let’s hope that in God’s infinite wisdom, he gets my humor, and gets that I’m a big dummy.)

My family was never consistent about going to Church.

I would wake up some Sunday mornings and hide out in my room, not wanting my parents to know I was already awake. I figured my mom might go to wake my brother, sister and I for Church then she’d say, “well … they’re such Angels when they’re sleeping … We’ll go next week.” (note how I used the word Angel – now that’s comedy!).

Despite my best efforts, we went sometimes. Sometimes meaning more than just Easter and Christmas, but we weren’t ‘religious’ about going (the jokes don’t stop, people).

The Churches we attended tended to be pretty conservative generic Protestant. You’d have your Bible and your Hymnal in front of you.

Turn to page 786 in the Hymnal and let us sing …

Then it’d be some boring drawn out song.

I had the impression that if Church wasn’t stuffy, and if you weren’t dressed stiffly – you weren’t respecting God.

***

In 2000 my family moved to Savannah, Georgia.

We attended Savannah Christian Church.

The pastor was fantastic (my favorite ever – though I have to admit I didn’t really start to pay attention to the sermon until around that time, too).

The music was … different.

There was some sort of ‘rock group’ on the stage.

Guitars in Church?

A DRUMMER?!

This was all new to me.

The people around me started singing these pop Christian songs.

“Jesus, you rock my socks off buuuuddddddy!” (I sincerely hope this is not a real pop Christian song – though I would not be surprised if it was.)

And … what’s this? That guy up there is … raising his arms?

Is he going to strangle someone?

Is he a zombie?

What’s happening?

Does God get bad reception in here? And your arms are rabbit ears?

(Note: If there is a Heaven and Hell, and people get to Heaven and they say, “Brad’s not here? He wasn’t that bad a guy I thought …” I’m in Hell because I thought of this joke today. While I was at Church.)

I couldn’t help but look down and grin – a huge, laughter suppressing grin.

Lucky for me my laugh tends to just be a smile (a ninja laugh, as I call it).

This was new to me.

People ‘feeling it’ or what have you. Raising their arms as they sing and closing their eyes. As though God was, through this poorly written pop song, hugging them.

Eventually the songs stopped and the lead singer began to pray.

Meanwhile, one of the guys on guitar kept going.

Does this prayer have a soundtrack?

Had I missed some part of the Bible where God said He loves a good musical prayer?

***

As this is about Church let me now preach and say: Christians, don’t look down on other Christian services. Christianity is all about love for others, so politely disagree, but focus on the love part.

Also, no offense Christian pop. You’re fine, really. I’m really just interested in the sermon anyway.

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