Progressive Reunion.

I wrote about half of nice, long entry here at terminal B75 in IAH. A lady across the room has a Very noisy, squeeky sounding dog. After 30 minutes, the dog had gotten on my nerves. So I set my phone on the chair beside me to get some headphones from my bag, as I then reached to unzip my notebook case, my phone slid off it's resting place and hit the floor without too much sound. As it hit, the battery cover shot off along with the battery. And that was the end of that entry. So now, I begin at square one, but this time with a new opening paragraph.

The ladies will be happy to know that the woman next to me is reading 'The Wedding.' The guys will be happy to know that I don't remember if that's the sequal or the prequal to 'The Notebook.' The lady on the other side of me is reading a magazine featuring scantly clad Hispanuc people. Neither of these ladies were next to me when I began my original entry. Let's get back to that.

I'm waiting patiently to board my flight to Midland. I'll be spending a couple of nights there, doing business in Seminole. I've never visited either of these citis, but with the affection I have for West Texas, my expectations are fairly low.

So that's where I'm going. Now where have I been? A couple of weeks ago, after spending a couple of days in Laredo, I determined that it was a terrible city to visit (right up there with Kerrville). Krispy Kreme and a pretty decent authentic Mexican food place called Palenque Grill are among its very limited redeeming features. Last week I spent a night in Waco, got to visit the new Taco Bueno, and ate my Chiladas with my bare hands (they forgot to give me silverware). I hope the towel washer at the Fairfield Inn was able to get the Chilada stains out of the towels that night. The next day I made stops in Coryell County and Eastland. Eastland County Courthouse has an interesting display at the entrance. They have an embalmed hornytoad encased in a coffin on display. Old Rip is a local hero and his annual parade is coming up in February. Clinton, hit me up with a link to Rip's story in the comments. While in Eastland, I ate at the Texas Cattle Exchange. A tasty restaurant that offers an excellent all you can eat buffet. The restaurant portion of the building is fairly small with about 15 tables of 4. Also in the building is a section with offices. Most notably, a 3rd door takes you to the cattle showcase area. In this cold room, you'll find a strong cattle smell coming from the outside barns and arenas. There is seating in this area and a small section below where cows can be brought in. Here, in the mud/hay the cows are bid on. But my favorite part of the story: in this cold, smelly barn, Eastland residents have church services every Sunday. The only comment I had was, 'I bet they have really good nativity scenes.'

That night I returned to Conroe through Dublin (picked me up some Dublin Dr. Pepper) and CS. The higlight of my week occurred after we beat OU in basketball. That night, Penny and I travled to Dallas to see Sister Hazel in concert. We were met there by a few of her friends and Nick and Vanessa. SH rocked. Pretty good live show. Afterwards, I got the guys to sign my ticket. My A&M Basketball ticket. We didn't have a ticket to the show because Penny won some all acess passes, which were in the form of stickers. With no real alternative, I handed them my basketball ticket and they were happy to autograph it. I spent that night at Nick's place. It's definitely nicer than mine. We had some late night Denny's after the show where we were entertained (annoyed) by a group of children singing (yelling) such hits as The Hokey Pokey and Barbie Girl. No idea why these children were out past midnight, but they should have definitely been elsewhere.

Now, I'm flying to Midland where I'll see Clinton. The progressive Ranch Reunion is nearly complete. The trip takes me all the way across Texas. But I'm excited. Honestly, I much preferred having Ranch get-togethers in the hall between the kitchen and the bathroom of Apartment 19 on Balcones Drive... But this is quite enjoyable too.

Iced In

The ice has made its way to Conroe now, so I get an ice day! The funny thing is that by simply moving a space in "an ice day," you get "a nice day." Let's see you kids in Dallas and Midland do something that clever with your snow day...

A&M remains closed. I hope Penny has been enjoying her 6 day weekend, because I assure you those don't come around too often. I only got a couple of days off total in my 4 years at A&M, never 2 in a row. I'm sure all the students are enjoying it. It's not as hard of a freeze as we had last year in CS. Ice Days aren't nearly as fun without someone to share icecicle breaking and bush kicking with...


Onto the reason I'm posting. Aside from my trip to Lenny's and to pick up the Yukon for my trip to Laredo tomorrow, I've spent most of the day in front of the tv. Cold Pizza, Price Is Right, Home Improvement, Family Feud. I can't wait until I'm retired. But why is it that daytime commercials are so terrible? Are old people such eager consumers that you don't need to hire professional actors to sell them a product? Some of these commercials look like they were filmed in someone's front yard. "Hi I'm Jim. I bought auto insurance. It's for my car. Call now." You know, something like that. That's not going to sell me anything, but apparently the old people eat it up. And Head On? I don't know what it is, but you apply it directly to your forehead.

One hypothesis you might have is, "Maybe all the great minds are too busy playing game shows during the day to make commercials." Well that is false. This is apparent by watching any game show that airs during the day. Skipping over the doozies that were on The Price Is Right, allow me to share with you a phrase that is never said on Family Feud. "That is a terrible answer." Why is this never said. This should be the catch phrase of Family Feud along with every other daytime game show.

Host: "100 people polled, answers are on the board. What is the main thing the women who are feeling fat want to avoid?"
Response: "Umm..oh! Giraffe Riding! Yeah!"
Family: "Good anwser! Oh yeah! Good answer!"

If you can't be honest with your family, who can you be honest with? That's a terrible answer. Say "Food" dummy. Wishful thinking and denial that your family is an idiot is not worth any points.

And now Family Feud has ended, Maury has begun. This episode: "Did My Man Cheat Because I Only Have One Leg?" There is surely no redeeming quality in this ridiculous show.

As I began to wind this blog down, I understood why there are no good commercials on during the day. I wouldn't want any of my work associated with the stupidity displayed on daytime television either. Way to go good commercial makers.

Still Here

It's been a tough week here at the office, but we're surviving. Haven't got a whole lot to say other than that.

Shout out to Karen for housing me when I was in CS, Nick's gone for good, so I was nearly homeless. Props to Nick for his first day on the job. Talked too him at lunch and all was good.

Clinton and I solved a tough case this week in regard to some suspicious activity we saw. We really should open up a Detective Office.

Last topic to address is the number of people that read my blog through facebook. Just to let you know, this is done through Blogspot, facebook imports info from here automatically. I'm surprised at how many people told me they read it. I don't know if they ever comment on it though as I dont check facebook very often. http://chriswilson06.blogspot.com/ is the best way to have me read any comments you make. Word to all my readers, I'm looking at you Ched.

Alright, longer, more thought provoking post coming in the future, I promise. Until then, let me share with you a blog that Karen sent to me asking "Is It True?":

Look…

I’m about to shed some light on the bizarre brains of men.

This impending enlightenment is the fruit of 30 years of male observation.

So go get your cute little journals girls...oh...and your colored pens.

I wish what I was about to tell you was something incredibly fantastic, but you see, that’s one of the illusions called man.

When you are single, you think that men are mysteries waiting to be solved.

You think they are deep because they’re silent.

You think they are strong because they are solemn.

No. Not hardly.

Men are very easy to read.

They are quiet because they either don’t know what to say, they aren't aware they are supposed to be saying something, or they weren't even sure you were talking to them in the first place.

They can be calm, grounded and solemn because they don't know they should be trying to impress you, even though you’re practically hula hooping with your hair on fire to get their attention.

Here’s a little known tidbit about men that should alarm you.

Got your purple pen?

They all play this game in their minds called, "The What If Game."

For the first half of my life I lived with a brother who would randomly say, "What if we had to walk backwards everywhere we went?" "What if we had to chew our food 50 times, spit it out and then eat it again?" "What if dogs could talk, but only in French, so we still couldn’t understand them?" "What if I had to sleep with my legs sticking straight up in the air?" "What if this roll of wall paper was stuck in my forehead? I would be like a unicorn. How would I put on my shirts?"

That was my life with Jason.

I thought I would be saying goodbye to this WASTE OF TIME thought process once I finally got my new double consonant name (I would have married a man with the last name of Hoogleberry to obtain this).

Wrong.

After I said, "I do," I quickly said, "This cannot be happening." I got married and found out that Aaron plays the same insane little game. I don’t know why, but "The What If Game" makes me want to hit him in the face with a cookie sheet.

He and Jason were both so serious about their "What Ifs." That's the most unsettling part. They really and truly expect you to begin problem solving over these made up scenarios. Really. I'm not joking. They see nothing wrong with logically trying to solve an illogical problem.

Aaron will pick the most inopportune times to amuse himself with the what ifs. We'll be getting ready for a birthday party or for company to come over and it will hit him..."What if I were a goat?" I'm trying to hurry, and he's chewing on napkins.

How are we still married?

Moments before I catapulted myself out of the bed to type this man betrayal, I was lying there next to my husband. He looks at me and says with his jaws clenched together, "What if I couldn’t open my mouth ever again."

Unfortunately I don’t keep cookie sheets in our bed. I will from now on.

I made a loud, "UGGGGH."

I then told him I had to know what is wrong with men. Why do they do this? It must be all men, because I’m no mathematician (actually, I can’t even tell time properly) but what are the chances that my brother and husband BOTH play the dumb "What if Game?"

Aaron informed me that he and Mike have already discussed this and they both do it and think all men do. I had him immediately call Allen. Allen was my only hope. I thought for sure Allen would not partake in this pitiful past time. Even Allen does it. Allen.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why waste brain time thinking about what ifs…and not what ifs that matter. They aren’t trying to save the world in case a meteor strikes. They are not endeavoring to solve global warming. They aren't trying to lower our gas prices.

They aren’t even trying to get ready for this "what if"… "What if the electricity goes out?" I don’t think we have one flashlight that works around here.

Oh no.

They spend their time thinking about if their legs could only fold backwards, or their skin was inside out or if everyone had to keep their wallets in their cheeks.

Aaron informed me that one time when he was taking a bath (I can’t believe I’m even saying that since I hate that everyone knows this sad fact about my darling husband) he took a whole bath not using his arms because on the way into the bathtub, this thought unfortunately crossed his mind..."What if I didn’t have arms."

Why?

Why?

Why?

He even came to the conclusion that he would have to invent a faux arm that stuck out of the bathroom wall so that after he squeezed the shampoo onto his head, using his feet, he could rub his soapy head up against the prosthetic fingers. The phony fingers would aid in the lathering process so his hair could be nice and undandruffy.

What?

So, ladies…if you have ever thought that men are a mystery, now you know that they in fact are…just not an exciting mystery…more like a disturbing, what the heck is wrong with them mystery.

Fess up boys, you know you do this.

I’m so on to you.

So on to you.
posted by Hendrick Family @ 5:45 PM

I did not know this was a huge mystery ladies. I thought it was widely known... My response to Karen was:

Unfortunately Karen, this is true. Here's a question for you. Do you think Nick and I would have dropped out of Accounting if we spent more time studying and less time asking, "Hey, what if I was sitting here across the table from you and all of the sudden a guy broke that window and pulled you through it? Would I keep studying? I think I would."

This What If game also affects camping preperation. "What if we need toilet paper, what if we run out of food. What if we need a shopping cart on the 4 mile hike??" Thus, extra toilet paper, extra food, and a shopping cart were taken to Lake Somerville.

How do you think we keep ourselves entertained? We don't sing Kelly Clarkson songs in our head or play matchmaker. If you know Nick and me, you should know that this game is constantly played and eternally fun. It is the basis for many in depth conversations as well as arguments. I never knew this was a mystery to you, I thought it was the way things were... Maybe it's the Boy Scouts' fault. "While ya'll are baking brownies, we're taught to "Always Be Prepared." "What if I need to skin a rabbit?" goes hand and hand with "What if I couldn't walk, but could only hop around like a rabbit?" And remember, there's only one way to skin a rabbit, but there are lots of preperations to make if you wake up as a rabbit. What would you eat? What kind of clothes would you wear? Would you move into a hole? (The rent is cheaper...)

Alright, later on peeps.