Any Friday work day, that comes at the end of a long, tiring week is made better by stopping off and getting a pedicure. That’s my Friday quote of the day, and you can use it, if’n you want to.
Archive for June, 2006
Fresh from the email, Sir Quacky has sent the link to a live, on camera interview with Mr. Smiff and Crew that was done during Fan Fair. Let me rephrase that. Mr. Smiff stands in the background, chewing his gum, giving his bluegrass/country music nod in agreement with everything the others say.
The American public will think Mr. Smiff, Danny and Dave have speech impediments or are mute or something. They NEVER get on interviews.
I wish they’d ask them some new questions.
I’m overdue for a Graceland visit myself. I’ve been there a number of times and I absolutely LOVE it. I love anything Elvis. Even though Priscilla tried to trash him and make us hate him in her lame autobiography, even though he was a freak, I love Elvis.
The first time I went to Graceland was in about 1970. I don’t have photos, but, I do have home movies. The Biffer and Elvis made aquaintance back in about 1954 in Houston when Dad booked him on some shows there. This was before he was The King, but, was rather The Hillbilly Cat and hillbilly he was, sho nuff. Anyway, we went by and Uncle Vester took us up on the grounds and there is film documentation of me playing where Lisa Marie herself played.
The next time we went was after he died. These pictures were made either right before or after the first or second anniversary. (Note to Sister-you look way cuter in these pictures than I did. I look like a little boy whose mother wanted a girl so bad so she dressed her kid up in this ugly, blue frock. Mom was looking hot in her headgear. What’s with the headgear? Sister was not happy that day. Good land, I have the same, evil smile on my face here that my kids give each other when one is in a bad mood and the other is making fun of it. Heh) ANYWAY, this was before the house was opened, but, you could stand in line for hours, walk up the driveway and walk by his grave.
I went again in 1983, not long after they started letting people in the house. I remember being so surprised with how small the house is. I mean, small in Elvis, King of Rock ‘N Roll, American Icon terms. I went another time in about ’87 and saw Aunt Delta taking her poodle out to potty.
Mr. Smiff and I went to Graceland on our honeymoon in December of 1989. The house decorated, as the Kang had it done, at Christmas was cool but that trip, what I remember most about it was that was the first time Mr. Smiff ever heard me fart. We only dated 6 months before we married and I had this horrendous gas around wedding time because I thought I was obese (size 8 is SO fat!) and had been drinking Slim Fast like it was going out of style. (That stuff gives ya gas, in case ya didn’t know) and that morning we were going to Elvis’, I let one slip and I was MORTIFIED. We got over that pretty quick and now is a main source of entertainment.
Back to the Kang….one of the things I like best about the whole Graceland tour is the airplanes and that big room that has all his clothes and trophies and stuff. The thing that got me is they had some of his tennis shoes and they were those Tretorn shoes that tennis players used to wear. They were about a size 11 or so and I remember looking at those and the shoes making me realize Elvis was a real person. He always seemed bigger than life in his capes and sideburns and what not but his shoes…the way they wrinkled from wear looked like the shoes in my Dad’s closet. He was a real guy. And here all these people come traipsin’ through his house, looking at his shoes. Kinda crazy when you think about it.
I just about had to jerk a knot into a couple of kids last night. Surprisingly, it was not any of my own.
It was the last night of VBS/Crosstraining at the church. #2 participated in Basketball this week. They had a small group and he seemed to have a good time. One of his teenaged “coaches” (I use that term loosely) had absolutely no patience for #2. Beings I was the Picture Lady, I saw a lot and I saw this twit be short with #2 more than once. Because it was a church function and when I let loose on somebody, I tend to use language not becoming a Christian woman, I refrained from giving him a good cussing. He barely escaped a spew of obscenities about how he needed to be a little more patient with my kid. My kid sees nothing but good in people (except his sister). It was more than I could take. I know not everybody gets #2 though. Still. This teenaged shitwad had no business working with K-2nd graders if he had no more patience than that.
This other little boy was not as fortunate as the teenager. I watched the whole thing. Kids all over the gym floor, chaotic, last- night fun. A bigger kid walks up to #2, motions for him to come to him like he’s going to tell him a secret and then he yelled in his ear. #2 is highly sensitive to noises (goes with the ADHD) I grabbed hold of little shitmeister and frankly, don’t remember what I said to him about how it’s not polite to scream in smaller kids’ ears. He kept telling me he was sorry. “Tell him, not me”, I said, pointing to #2.
In defense of those who don’t “get” #2, he can be exhausting. He can be loud. But, he’s never mean to anybody. (Except his sister) Not a mean, hateful bone in that kid’s body. He doesn’t notice anybody’s skin color, shortcomings, whether they’re ugly or pretty….he thinks everybody is just plain swell.
I guess it’s time to get him in boxing or karate so he can defend himself against shitheeled kids like that.
It looks like there are some tickets left for next Thursday’s Bluegrass Night at the Ryman with The Grascals and that guy they hired to close for them, Vince Gill. They aren’t as expensive as a lot of shows there and I guaran-tee it’ll be an entertaining evening.
You can get your tickets right here.
Lunching with Busy Mom and CeeELCee, Rod Stewart, plus a guest appearance by Wonder Dawg and Mrs. Wonder Dawg, made for a most enjoyable lunchtime. Everytime I’ve been to the Mothership, it’s been good eatin’, but, today, it was extry good. That Dr. Funkenswine has a good scald on that barbecue, now. I partook in the ribs for the first time today and dang….make you want to slap yo mama.
Something extra, Dr. F didn’t even charge me for was the baptism by Diet Coke. My little take home souvenir.
I think Dr. Funkenswine needs him a little, midget straight man and his name should be Q-ferd. Kinda like Buford. That was random, wasn’t it?