Posted in Humor

Kanye’s onto Something Big!

Did you see this important announcement?

I love this idea. It’s brilliant! He’s brilliant! It’s healthy! It’s word dieting!

People with long names or names that are difficult for me to remember (90% of all names) should join Ye’s revolution.

For example, take that fellow who said we should all get into “The Flow” to be happy and successful. Remember him? Csikszentmihalyi?

(I just had to take a 15 minute break after simply typing his name. Ruined my blogging flow.)

So anyway, how can I be expected to FLOW when I’m b(l)ogged down with his 20-letter name? I wouldn’t have to be so befuddled if he would simply Ye his name to Yi. Problem solved!

Or take politics.

(Please take politics!)

All that ugly name calling and acrimony might just be taken down a few notches if Kanye, I mean Ye, would be taken seriously and given the respect he deserves.

Let’s start with the President. Well, the President according to a little over half of the nation. Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. Did you know his middle name is Robinette? Seriously? What were his folks thinking?!

Here’s want Ye and I suggest. “Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.” is Ye’d down to “Bi.” That way the buzz around the President would switch from infrastructure and debt ceiling fighting to Bi’s sexuality. Which is far more intriguing, especially in a fellow his age. (And we all know that Jill is outta the White House often to teach at that community college.)

And what about Donald John Trump, the current President to a little less than half the nation? I just got off the phone with Ye, and we agree the former/current President Trump should now go by …

“Rump.” It’s an easy one syllable (I think), and it sorta fits in a couple of ways.

If the shoe fits.

All that Ye-ing forced me to take a serious look at my own rather messy blog name and see if it could be Ye’d. So from now on, NealEnJoy will simply be “Oy!” Doesn’t that sound hip? It did until Ye looked it up in Merriam-Webster and explained what Oy means.

Oy, gotta rethink my blog name!

I’ll get back with you when Ye and I have a chance to come up with a new name. But I’m afraid it may take a while since Ye told me he’s running for President … again. Isn’t that great news?! Problem is he’s having to send back truckloads of campaign materials because of the name change.

Head’s up: The blog may have to go on hiatus since I’m hitting the campaign trail soon. And I came up with Team Ye’s slogan.

“Ye America Wee Again!”

Posted in Humor, Neal's Writing, New, Savannah Joy, The Joy and Wisdom of Children, Transition, Uncategorized, Where Happiness Finds You

The Bear and the Unicorn

For my recent suxteee-seckth birthday, I celebrated with my big ole’ modern family …

… at Savannah’s Tequila’s Town restaurant in Sandfly.

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(Seriously?  Can you believe they come hooting “Happy Bday” laden with tequila for the celebrant!  Even though I had my large head prepared for an oversized sombrero and some flan.)

Post-tequila I received some neat gifts, but perhaps my Favorites came from five-year-old grandtwins Madison (inappropriately pictured above next to the tequila) and Matthew. Their mom let them pick out their gifts for me.  Madison gave me a pink unicorn in a love mug …

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…while Matthew opted for a brown bear that actually smells like chocolate when you rub it vigorously!

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(Matthew is in an over-smiling-for-the-camera stage.)

Oh, they also each got me a large skein of yarn–yellow from Madison and green from Matthew.  Not that I knit (who has the patience for that?!), but because they like to unravel the yarn, make giant spiderwebs and throw it all over the furniture and each other.

Thus, inspired by the tequila, when I got home I opted for a quick photoshoot to document my suxteee-seckth.

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Moral of Story:  the strangest little gifts ofttimes make for the biggest shots of … Joy.

 

 

 

Posted in Humor

Sometimes I Get What I Deserve

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So today I ate lunch at Savannah’s hip Green Truck Neighborhood Pub on Habersham Street near Victory.

Here’s how the story went down.

As some of you know, I no longer bring meat into the house–it’s all vegetables, fruits, legumes, nuts and seeds there.  But I occasionally indulge while eating out.  And for some some reason, today I had an all-too-powerful-to-ignore-or-resist hankering for a hunk of grilled meat.  So I pulled up to the Green Truck, bellied up to the bar to avoid the table wait and ordered the  Green Truck Classic Burger, described in their menu as “plain and simple as an old truck: lettuce, tomato, onion and our soon-to-be-famous house-made pickle.”  (I added cheddar.)

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Yum.  No, double yum!

I kept furtively looking around to see if any of my vegetarian friends might have followed me inside.  I was nervously poised to slam my meaty plate in front of one of the folks on either side of me at the bar.

Anyhoo, I savored every moment, every bite.  (Do Not Tell Anyone About This!  It’s Just Between You And Me.)

Well, when I finished, (and be forewarned, the rest of the story is probably TMI, so stop right now, if you like, and you will still have my burger story), I went to the non-gender-specific bathroom–I’m so 2014– before waddling back to the car.

There was the coolest retro sink inside.

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And the typical cabinet.

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But for some reason I glanced at the cabinet again …

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… and thought, “I wonder what’s in that little cabinet?  And if the contents are also non-gender-specific?”

(P.S. When inviting me to birthday or Avon parties, put some of those plastic child resistant lock things on your cabinets.  I’ve never been able to figure them out.)

So, of course I reached up and opened the cabinet door.  Wouldn’t you?  No?!  (I also opened a door in a huge hallway in the Biltmore House in Asheville some years back, and a piercing alarm went off, terribly embarrassing my family and friends.  Me?  When things like that happen, I just try to go to my Happy Place inside and block out externals.  There might have been an “Alarm Will Sound” notice on the door, I can’t remember, but really, how often would the Biltmores have changed the batteries?)

Lo and behold, an alarm of sorts also went off when I opened the cabinet door inside the Green Truck’s non-gender-specific bathroom.  Here’s what was scrawled on the inside of the door:

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I walked out of the bathroom beet red.

(P.S. II:  I was so taken aback by the message that I completely forgot to see what was inside the cabinet.  If someone wouldn’t mind, would you rush over to the Green Truck, pretend to have to use the bathroom, and snap a pic or two of the inside of that cabinet so I can go to sleep tonight?  Thank you.)