Real horse.
Steel horse.
Squeal hors d’oeuvres.
Author Archives: Driftwood
Back to Square One
What is it about square one that keeps bringing me back? I’m there so often I should be paying rent. The moral of this story: dance. Make the best of it because chances are you’ll move on soon enough. Oh, and also, leave the disco lights on because someone else is bound to be there soon.
A Metaphor for Girls Returning to Their Ex-Boyfriends
I saw you with your Kia and I know you really loved that car. It was a good car. It got you from point A to point B. But over time, it started costing you money and time. It took so much work just to keep it running. And as much as you put into it, all it really did was get you from point A to point B. If you’re honest, the seats were uncomfortable, the gas mileage was not that good, the speakers were cheap and so were the thrills. Now you’re back in the car lot and it’s full of luxury vehicles. Nice ones that have leather interior, strong frames, and reliable engines. They not only get you from point A to point B, but they seem to care what you want and what makes you happy. You leave point A and almost don’t even care about getting to point B because the journey is so unforgettably awesome. Will your friends still like you if you walk back to the Kia in the scrap yard? Sure. Will they respect you? Of course. But a Kia with a new paint job is still a Kia. Tinted windows don’t make it a Mercedes. New tires don’t make it a BMW. It will always be a Kia.
You deserve luxury. Not this:
The Bachelorette Emily Maynard Episode 1
I have come so close to boycotting the show. Well, by “boycotting,” I mean sending in an application but let’s move on. I’m in a fantasy league at work, and that makes watching the show completely bearable. Do I care which guy wins? No. 
Am I concerned if the relationship will last? No. Do I want to win the 2012 Fantasy Bachelorette League? Heck yes. The Bachelorette this go round is Emily Maynard. She was a likable contestant on Brad Womack’s season of The Bachelor. She lost (or won depending on how you look at it) when Brad chose her to be his wife, which obviously never happened. We were all cheering for her to win. Is that like cheering for someone to get selected for the Hunger Games? “Yay! Go get’em!! Oh, wait, what happens to them out there? Oh. Hmm.”
To reach that shore you have to leave this one.
I applaud Emily for setting sail once again with the hope of finding true love. She seems to be a genuinely cool person. But what a dumb show. Will any of the 25 guys show signs they’re interested? Here are a few that should be obvious to Emily…
If you wanna keep up with the Fantasy League this season, 1.) Subscribe to this blog site and 2.) you must be super bored!
Ten More Signs You’re Ready for a Beach Vacation
Your spray on tan looks more like an orange juice stain.
For the third day in a row, you arrive at work with no shirt because that’s what Matthew McConaughey would do.
You read articles about the tanorexic moms with envy.
You wrote an email to the folks at Groupon asking for 90% off an all-inclusive trip to Hilton Head.
You wrote an email to Groupon.
You click on every Socialcam video that has the words “beach,” sand,” “ocean,” “coast,” or “surfer attacks shark.” Sadly, none of the videos are anything like the title.
You start believing that a lake is just as good.
You show your friends pictures of the beach and say you were born with salt water in your veins. That definitely might justify why your friends call you a son of a beach.
You’re name is Chris Bosh. If you hurry, Chris, you can beat the rest of the Heat to South Beach.
You just got trendy new tattoo on your rib cage that everyone needs to see. No that’s not a typo… you literally got “trendy new tattoo” tattooed on your rib cage.
For the original list, click here:
10 Signs You’re Ready for a Beach Vacation
Mother’s Day 2012
No mothers live in my house. Just me and my two girls. They won’t ever know how it feels to be a mom, and neither will I. So we can agree that Mother’s Day will never be special for us. We may turn on Hitch and just let the rainy day pass like any other. But as the minutes and hours go by, I’ll remind them that somewhere there’s a beagle wondering if her little girl grew up to fit her big ears. There’s a blue heeler wondering if her pup still has crazy blue eyes. And I’m reminded that there’s a mom in Florida wondering if her baby in Tennessee is alright today. Yes, mama beagle, she grew up to fit her big ears. Mrs. Blue Heeler, she’s still got her icy blue eyes. And Mom, I’m doing alright. Thanks for loving me so well for 33 years.
Happy Mother’s Day.
The Adventures of Flat Stanley at the Country Music Marathon
Click the image for a larger view… enjoy!
10 Signs You’re Ready for a Beach Vacation
Hawaiian shirt Friday is preceded by Hawaiian shirt Monday through Thursday.
You take naps in a hammock. In your neighbor’s yard.
When you hold a piece of paper, you can’t tell where your hand ends and the paper begins. Yes, you’re that pale.
It’s still colder outside your house than inside your refrigerator.
You refer to June as “…the month I’m hittin’ PC Beach! Holllllaaa!”
North Korea’s gonna blow the world up anyway, might as well get some sun first.
Your tramp stamp hasn’t seen the light of day since Labor Day 2011.
The state of Florida said a good place to “stand your ground” is at the beach. Holllllaaa!
You just watched Titanic 3D and thought the door Rose floated on looked like a righteous surfboard.
As much as you’ve heard about Trayvon Martin, Lindsay Lohan, politics, or NFL scandals… you literally wish you had your head buried in the sand.
Click here for more:
10 More Signs You’re Ready for a Beach Vacation
The Adventures of Flat Stanley
Stanley Lambchop is visiting from sunny Florida. He’s been having a great time as my guest, traveling all over Nashville! To find out more, click here for the Flat Stanley story.
Stanley in Nashville.
...at the Hard Rock Cafe.
Stanley at the Ryman Auditorium.
...driving around town.
Stanley at the Parthenon in Nashville.
...playing pick-up basketball.
...at the Nashville Zoo.
