Thursday, September 24, 2009

Ain't nothin' wrong with lovin' chunky


Madagascar 2 has been showing on television all week and I cannot get this song out of my head. Is that a bad thing? It's actually kinda catchy, don't you think? But when I walk around singing it all day at work, the guys kind of keep their distance. However, I have told some people that I think I'll try Moto Moto's pick-up line: "Girl, you HUGE!"


Guaranteed to fulfill Sarah's prophecy.


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Poor, poor Vanessa. I have no words of comfort or counsel, except that if you play tennis with Tonya Harding, you're kind of asking for it.


Ya know I almost, I mean for one split second, nay, nano-second, felt bad about making fun of you on here for all the world to see. But then I remembered how you harrass me about color-blindness and tobacco. The guilt passed rather quickly. :)


Are you sure it was really a tennis match? You didn't accidentally sneak some of your skybox party favors, did you?


Hope you feel better soon.


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So, on Saturday I will be voluntarily immersing myself in that most dreaded and foulest of all earthly stenches. Dolly-water.


Yes, dear readers, there is nothing in this sinful and fallen world that can compare to the nose-burning, stomach-churning smell of the putrid liquid that courses through the canals and misting machines at Dollywood. It starts early each summer morning splashing up on unsuspecting tourists, saturating the dirty socks and gym shorts of those poor, helpless Ohioans who sojourn each year to this fair land of ours simply for the pure elation of hearing "Life is Like a Butterfly" flow on waves of Bose-like sound from hidden flowerpots and restroom signs.


It is the baptism of the simple folk, symbolically washing away the evil nature of the cities from whence they come, and joining in true fellowship with, and becoming one with the mountains.


What would a trip to lovely, serene Pigeon Forge be without suffusing one's self with this holy nectar, allowing it to permeate each and every fiber of polyester adornment, and then...


shuckin' 'em off in the truck 'cause the smell is unbearable.


Can I get a amen?


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Okay, enough of that. One more quote from Robinson Crusoe (deal with it). I think this story is very valid for pondering on Spiritual things, that's why I share it with you. Here, as always, Crusoe is contemplating his situation, now twenty-four years on the island, and thanking God for unseen deliverance from the "savages" who frequent the shores.


This renewed a contemplation which often had come into my thoughts in former times, when first I began to see the merciful dispositions of Heaven in the dangers we run through in this life; how wonderfully we are delivered when we know nothing of it; how, when we are in a quandry, a doubt or hesitation whether to go this way or that way, a secret hint shall direct us this way when we intended to go that way; nay, when sense, our own inclination, and perhaps business, has called us to go the other way, yet a strange impression upon the mind, from we know not what springs, and by we know not what power, shall overrule us to go this way; and it shall afterwards appear that had we gone that way which we should have gone, and even to our imagination ought to have gone, we should have been ruined and lost.


But it is never too late to be wise; and I cannot but advise all considering men, whose lives are attended with such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even, though not so extraordinary, not to slight such secret intimations of Providence, let them come from what invisible intelligence the will.


Wow! Now that is acknowledging the Holy Spirit's gentle nudgings as eloquently as I can imagine. Personally, I am grateful, these days more than ever, for those "secret intimations of Providence" that have kept me from following the wrong path.


Love some chunky this weekend.