I can’t stand curveballs…

….as most of you know who read my blog on a daily basis know that my brain is like this dysfunctional 20 lane highways that has a ton of twist and turns in it.  Even though it goes a mile a minute, it is like organized chaos.  Even throughout all the twist and turns, I seem to stay pretty focused until today.  I pride myself on keeping my composure at all times….again until today.

I had all intentions of writing the next installment of my blog from yesterday and also the typical Confessional Friday post…well I guess this can actually be a confession of some sort.  I was at my college’s bookstore today to pickup my books for the fall term.  Well all the lines were long as all get it.  A ton of people…and I did not really feel like being bothered.  I grabbed my books, all except for one.  I remembered that my sons mother took this communication class last term, so I called her to see if she still had the book….BINGO, I have action, she still had it….so that is one less book that I had to buy. Okay, after maneuvering through all these folks to the checkout line, man the lines seemed longer than those that be at an amusement park on a hot summer day.  I’m in the line right…..and out of the corner of my eye I see somebody I really didn’t want to see.  I’m saying to myself, “self…hide m’fer” (ahahaha, maybe I should have not thought that but it is what it is).  I really did not feel like being bothered and especially with this bug-a-boo.  So what do I do….hide like a mug.  My confession…I do it all the time…I just don’t want to be bothered.  I ignore people when they call my name…or I pretend like I don’t even see them.  People can get on my nerves sometimes…

Anywho, like I said this was supposed to be part two, but I had one of those highway traffic jam moments while I was in the line waiting.  I was looking at some of the school supplies and then all of a sudden I started to think about my wife.  Instantly I start to well up.  I’m trying to keep my composure because it is literally hundereds of folks in the place.  The more I tried to contain myself, the harder it became.  I started to think about the last days she was here on earth, her last words….her last breath.  All those emotions came running back.  I was thinking about when I left the hospital after she passed, I couldn’t take her belongings in the house.  They stayed in the car for quite some time.  I started to think about how many people called me and left messages in just a matter of hours.  I turned my phone and my voicemail was filled to capacity.  Even as I type now, I’m hit with emotions…but that word “move” just popped back into my head….I get to that in a second…that is crazy how that happens….my intent for this blog when I started to type 5 minutes ago was something totally different….back to my situation today.  I was trying to figure out for the life of me where was all this emotion is coming from…then it hit me…it is the 29th…since she passed March 29th….every 29th I get hit with emotions.  It is like her way of letting me know she is still with me…..

When I think of move in this situation….I think of passing through…overcome comes to mind.  The act of moving is not only physical it is mental as well.  See I’m in the midst of passing though a situation….pressing on towards an ultimate goal.  If we don’t move past our past…we will never pass through to our future.  Remember all….you have to go through so calamity in order to pass through an ordeal.  God has so much in store for us, we just need to move….okay…I don’t know where that came from, but be blessed all….so I guess this is part 2 of ???

Dew

Banana Splits Make Me Sick

When I was a young boy I used to do the damnest of things.  I mean I was your typical mischievous boy.  I used to fight, I would torture (will not like physically abuse) my younger brothers…man, I was just a boy.  Back in the day my favorite dessert was a banana split.   My chubby tail would do ANYTHING for a banana split.  Okay, I was about 9 years old…well somewhere in that 7-10 year old range and my parents and I went car shopping.  I will never forget, they wanted a Lincoln.  So we are at this Lincoln/Mercury dealership (I cannot disclose the location…you’ll see why).  Back in the day when you would go to finance a vehicle you would be there ALL day.  I really didn’t want to go with my parents this day, but as a parent how do you get a chubby kid to do something….either threaten their life or offer them a snack.  My mother did the second.

So against my better judgement I decided to go.  Well first off, it was hot as a damn oven on this day.  Maybe I was more impatient opposed to hot.  I mean you are 9 or so, at a dealership and there is nothing to do.  So we walk the lot for what seemed to be an eternity with this goofy looking car salesman.  He looked like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny.  Anywho, my parents pick the car and they go inside the dealership and start negotiations.  I’m sitting outside the office playing with papers and crap.  You know as a kid you can make up some of the craziest games.  A matter of fact, I was 7 years old now I come to think about it.  I remember this lady with a big ol booty coming to give me something to drink.  After forever it seemed like my parents had to go back on the lot with Joe pesci.  At this point I am heated.  All I can think of is my dang on banana split.  Now here is the confession…..

I thought they had already settled on a car….needless to say that they were looking at other cars now.  This really pissed me off.  So we walked (with Joe P leading) from the back of the lot to the front.  I was holding my moms keys.  As we went thru each row of cars…hahahahha….this is so foul, I pulled out my mothers keys and walked next to car….needless to say maybe 50 cars or so had these long gashes in them…that was so ignorant…the morale to this story (and Bertha would appreciate this one)…..never mess with a chubby kid and his desserts.

I did not have sexual relations with that woman. – William Clinton

Chronicles of a Booty Bandit

From the author of “The Zebra Cake Caper” and the award winning “Confessions of a Pizza Thief”, Dew would like to bring you the next installment of Confessional Friday’s….Chronicles of a Booty Bandit.  Okay people, I might get blasted for this one, but everyone has done this before….man…woman, it doesn’t matter….

Let me put out the disclaimer out there first and foremost.  When I go to church, I go for the Word……but every now and then I somehow get sidetracked by booty.  I mean, I can use the excuse that I am a man and this is true…..see let me clarify myself…here me out first….

I go to a fairly nice size church.  Maybe a thousand members, but only 500 or 600 might be there on a given Sunday.  I’m not sure so don’t get me to lying.  Well I sit in the same section every service…..to the far right of the church and somewhere around the middle rows.  Saying that, there are alot of people that sit in front of me.  Okay, this is where it gets a little dicey.  I’m not a traditionalist by far….but I’m not a radical.  I won’t wear jeans or shorts to church…..but I don’t always wear a tie….feel me?  I really of the belief of “come as you are”…..it is just a matter of preference how I dress…..BUT, I do think it should be some sort of standard to what women wear to church.  I haven’t seen women wear something that they would wear going to a club or whatever…the problem I run into, I just think that women should wear things that are….how can I say this tastefully….wear something that is appropriate for their capabilities.  What I mean by that is…if you have a rotund tail….then please wear some looser clothes…..this is a big distraction to Dew sometimes…

My confession, I guess you figured it out.  Sometimes at church, I am guilty of looking at an occasional booty.  I don’t intentionally do it.  I PROMISE to you (not joking)….but if a woman that is sitting DIRECTLY in front of you stands up, you can’t help but to see it….I get so distracted…sometimes I instantly have to go into prayer…”Father, please forgive me….deliver me from these wayward eyes.”

Now if you haven’t looked at a man or woman in church please tell me…..but I am willing to bet you do too….Now it is your turn….I’m listening…

I  hate to see you go, but I LOVE to watch you leave. – Caster Troy (Face-off 1997)

Dew

Confessions of a Pizza Thief

When I was thinking about this next installment of Confessional Friday, my mind kind of wondered what I really wanted to confess about.  I mean, I have done my fair share of dirt.  Okay, I don’t mean like rob a bank dirt, but growing up I was your typical boy which became your typical teenager and then eventually you typical man until I had that thing they call an epiphany or my heart got hurt (I’m not sure which one).  I really don’t have this grand confession today, just a little goofy one that I did all the time….and I know I am not the only person that did this before….

Ya’ll remember when Domino’s Pizza used to have that deliver in 30 minutes or less, if not the pizza was free.  When I was in middle school we (my brothers and sister) used to call Domino’s when our parents weren’t home and order pizza’s to our next door neighbors house.  We would watch out the window for the delivery guy.  If it was after 30 minutes we would sit outside until they arrived and tell them that they were delivering to the wrong house…we were the one’s that ordered the pizza….hahahaha man that was so ignorant….

Okay your turn…..

This is my next confession…

Going along with the new tradition of Confessional Friday  I must make another confession.  First off, I think that I actually might come clean on two offenses today.  I dunno though.  I might have to play it by ear.  It just depends, because one of them might taint the image of Dew.  That might be a case of TMI.  Okay, the first one.  It was about 1990 or 91…anywho I was a freshman it high school.  It was the beginning of the year, so it had to be ’90.  I was sitting around at the lunch table with Bertha (he helped me pull off the Great Zebra Cake Caper a few years prior to this) and my dude Goldie (I miss you man).  We are sitting down eating lunch and we came up with hustle….I mean we wanted to make a few dollars.  I’m not sure who came up with the idea (I believe it was Bertha) to forge some lunch forms so we can be approved for free breakfast and lunches.  So we all do it…hahahaha.  We put down some bogus information, then a few days later we all had a book of lunch tickets for the entire school year.  Lunch was about $2 so we would sale the tickets for like a $1.50 or 5( a weeks worth) for $8.  That was so crooked.

 

My second confession might be a little raunchier.  I’ll change the names to protect the innocent.  This was back in ’93.  I’m a junior now.  I guess you could say that I was a pretty popular dude.  I was an athlete, so you know how it is.  I was out with my partner James, his girl Monica and at the time my girl Destiny.  We decided to go get some pizza at a local establishment.  I think it was a Pizza Hut or something.  Well Destiny had to go use the restroom.  She was in there for a second, so I thought that she might be having some difficulties or boo booing…who knows.  I knock on the door to see if she is okay.  She tells me that everything is cool.  I told her to let me in because I needed to wash my hands (or something like that) it was someone in the men’s restroom.  For arguments sake…lets just say that Pizza Hut was defiled on that night….hahahahaha. What is your confession.  I won’t tell……

 

This is my Confession…

This is my confession

….okay before I start with my confession, I want to introduce you to my new spot.  Fridays will be called Confessional Friday.  You know my blog is versatile.  I have my heavy days and then I some lighter ones sprinkled in.  The genesis of this spot was one of my random thoughts in Algebra class (speaking of Algebra, I got a 90 on the test the other day).  Here are the rules:

1. You have to either make confession about something you did as a child that nobody knows about or

2. You have to make a confession about something you have done during the course of the current week.

                             3.  You can not judge anyone for their confession.  It can be light-hearted or serious.

With that being said, I have my first confession.  As a kid, I believe I was in 6th or 7th grade.  Actually it was 7th because I was coming home from basketball practice.  My friend (Bertha) and I got off the Activity Bus to go home.  The Activity Bus was a school bus that took students home after extra-curricular activities during the course of the school year.  We stopped at my house first, I didn’t see any of our cars there so I fumbled around looking for my key and couldn’t find it….so we walked up the street to Bertha’s house….same thing, nobody there either.  Now here is the dilemma, we are boys in 7th grade…GROWING boys and we just got out of basketball practice, so you know we are starving.  We wait at his house for a tad bit longer…still no parents.  Now desperation is setting in.  Not that we are worried about our parents….be we are super hungry.  We walk back down to my house…still no cars.  As the hours passed (okay not hours, but it seemed that long) and our stomachs are growling we decided to go to the corner store.  We both looked in our pockets…all that was there was lint.  You know where this is going.  Bertha and I devise a plan that we are going to go in and pilfer some Little Debbie Zebra Cakes from the store.

This is the plan, the cakes are at the back of the store, next to the cooler where the malt liquor is.  I was to go in and attempt to find something like brown sugar or sardines.  Bertha would wait about 30-45 sec behind me and start up a conversation with the clerk.  This was gonna be full proof.  Starting up the conversation would be easy.  We go into the store about 5 times a week, so they know us.  We start to execute the plan.  I walk-in and walk towards the canned goods….Bertha follows and does his job.  I pickup a few snacks and say something to the effect, “Dang, man ya’ll don’t have no sugar!”  I walk out of the store and jog up the alley behind the store.  Bertha follows shortly after.  We laugh and giggle about it and bash the cakes.  Now this story takes another turn.  Bertha was not satisfied, so we decided to do it all over, reversing the roles.  This time it was Bertha that will pilfer the goods and I would be the interference.  Like clockwork, it goes down again.  It is executed to perfection…hahahaha….sorry Bertha….

Now it is your turn……