My Life ... by Josh Manning

Twisted Ending

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 21:40:00 +0000

Like most humans, I frequently dream. Some of these dreams take place during my conscious hours, but most take place while I'm asleep. And, again - I think - like most humans, I tend not to remember probably 90% of my slumbering dreams. Typically, when I first wake, I will remember possibly 40% or so of what took place in my sub consciousness during the night. Within the first ten minutes or so, that's probably dropped to about 20% and it then falls exponentially through the day until absolutely nothing remains. Very seldom do I vividly remember dreams for any period of time, and then it is only when something spectacular happens. This has happened only a handful of times in my lifetime:

When I was in second grade (I deduce that I was in second grade, though I actually have no real memory of a specific date), I dreamt that I saw a red fox sneaking up on my second grade teacher. Not wanting her to be eaten, I picked up a rock and through it at the fox. The fox turned, ran over to me, then bit of my hands. Oddly, at the time, I really didn't like my teacher and my attitude was actually one of not caring whether a fox attacked her or not.
My most common re-occurring dream (which I no longer have, and haven't had since elementary school), took place in the first several years after my grandmothers died (they died approximately one year apart from each other). In these dreams, typically I would be doing normal kid stuff when one of my two grandmothers would just show up out of nowhere and begin to ask me questions. I knew they were dead, and was quite frightened, but yet didn't want the dream to end.
I once realized mid-dream that I was dreaming. At that moment, I could pretty much do whatever I wanted. I began flying and doing generally very cool things. It was an amazing/strange experience.
Between my freshman and sophomore years of college, probably my most frightening dream-experience took place. I dreamt that I was talking to my grandfather and, during our conversation, his face began contorting and he appeared to be demon-possessed. In the dream, I pointed at him and shouted, "Get out!" only to wake myself up by my own audible voice. This same general theme has happened two or three times sense then - none of them as vivid (I can't remember any one individual or any of the situations that were taking place), but with the same reaction of waking up to my own audible voice. None of them were as freaky as the first, which left me unable to sleep and in somewhat of a cold-sweat.

Last night, however, I had an entirely new dream experience that previously I would have thought completely impossible. Unfortunately, I remember none of the true details. It wasn't a very vivid dream, but more of a concept that seems unlikely. My dream had a twisted ending. Basically, all through the dream, a series of circumstances happened that seemed odd. Unfortunately, I've forgotten all but one, which was watching two guys shake hands. This event had significance in the dream itself, but I can't remember what.

As foggy as the details are, I distinctly remember getting to the end of the dream, seeing one of these again, and then he told me his true identity, which made many of the other events in the dream - including the hand shake - take on an entirely different significance than my subconscious initially told me that these events had.

The sensation was something similar to when you first discovered Haley Joel Osment only talked to Bruce Willis because he was dead or that Russell Crowe didn't actually work for the CIA. I find it strange and somewhat unsettling to think that my subconscious was actively trying to trick my consciousness.

It will be interesting to see if this theme becomes reoccurring. And, if so, will I become more paranoid?

Anyone else have weird dreams?

Late Night Ramblings

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 06:06:00 +0000

If you were my friend anytime between 1999 and 2005, and were unlucky enough to have given me your email address, you know that I used to be an avid writer. I won't necessarily go so far as saying I was an entertaining or informative writer, per say, but I do believe that avid sums it up quite nicely. I would regularly have an idea – either fictional or theoretical – and simply spend the time to write it down and quickly make it known to anyone who bothered to read.

Unfortunately for me, though maybe fortunately for anyone who was, again, unlucky enough to have given me your email address, sometime in the fall of 2005 a massive, five year long writer's block attacked me. This period was a very busy and stressful time in my life as I was in the middle of an intense internship that left very little time for creativity. The ideas I did have, I did not take the time to write down. I fell out of the habit of regularly transferring my thoughts to paper. Later, when free time and creative thinking time again became an option, I was completely dry. My head was void. I could think of nothing unique or worth writing down. I found my writings unfunny or un-provocative. I was easily distracted. Many times, I would ramble on about how much I lamented my writer's block and wished there would be something worth writing about.

Tonight, as I lay in my bed wide-awake from insomnia for the third night in a row, I've decided to give it another shot. Ultimately, I realized that I had nothing better to do (besides sleep, which wasn't happening anyway) in addition to a mildly, funny-at-the-time-anyway story. My ultimate goal in this instance is not necessarily to draw applause and laugher at this point (though I would accept both, even in the form of pity), but to hopefully jumpstart the creative juices once again.

As always, please try to keep in mind my web-rules for writing and understand my mind. If you are unfamiliar with these rules – which at one time were posted on my heavily trafficked website – feel free to inquire and they will be made available.

__________________________________________________________

My day started with a bang and ended with a fizzle.

Actually, that is probably not the most accurate, but that seemed like a very good line to start with. In actuality, the day, just like any other, started with a fizzle, which proceeded to a sizzle, then – remarkably – slowed to a simmer, then ended with a bang.

Again, that makes for a nice introduction, but is not necessarily truthful.

Remarkably unremarkable, my day actually began with breakfast. Molly, my beautiful bride of just over two years, woke me up to two tasty buttermilk biscuits and an deliciously fried egg. And a glass of sour orange juice. The orange juice, actually, was my fault. I had left it out on the counter overnight. It was a brand new bottle, and I guess Molly wanted to make a point. We'd recently been having arguments over her need to remind me to do certain tasks. I tried to explain to her that she has a profound attention to detail, and that – combined with her repetitive nature – could, by some, be seen as "nagging." However, with my infinite patience, I understood it as what it truly was.

Annoying.

I kindly, generously explained to my beautiful bride that I simply did not need to be reminded of things. I know what days the garbage runs, and will always have the can to the road on time. I understand that certain outlets don't work and will replace them soon. My teeth will always be brushed before we go into public. The dishes will be washed by the end of the day. And I PROMISE that I am not dumb enough to leave the orange juice out on the counter over night. The very idea is an insult to my intelligence!

"In fact," I said, "I will not even dignify that comment with a response."

"Fine, but you're the butt-hecker that left it on the counter. And when you forget to put it away, you'll be in the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"My dear Molly, this will never happen. I will place it in the refrigerator after I finish my glass."

"Fine, but if it is left on the counter over night, you will be the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"You just said that! I get it!"

"I just want to make sure I'm being clear."

"You are being more than clear. You are being repetitive. If you worked for a government agency, it would be the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office."

"Excuse me?"

"Molly Manning, the department head for the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office, whose job it is to ensure that the department stays repetitive and repeats the official duties of the department. Her job description, as written, is to oversee the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office – which in turn documents the repetitiveness of the official duties therein."

"What are you talking about?"

"I will pick the orange juice up."

"Fine, but if it is left on the counter over night, you will be the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"I love you, Sweetie."

"I'm going to bed now. I love you, too."

As Molly left the room, I took another sip of my orange juice and finished the last original episode of Battlestar Galactica. I had been having my own mini-marathon that day, which, ironically, gave me a strange craving for a glass of orange juice.

About twenty minutes into the episode, though, something strange began to happen. Though the series was fairly intriguing, my eyelids began to remind me that they had not been closed for nearly eighteen hours. They now requested that this fact be rectified.

As I stood and began to walk toward the kitchen, a strange and unfortunate series of events began to unfold.

First, my cat decided to bite me on the foot.

This happened for no real good reason other than the fact that my cat likes to randomly bite me on the foot.

Next, I shouted in pain and dropped my glass.

The glass fell to the floor, broke, and shattered.

My cat bit my other foot.

I shouted, jumped, and landed on a piece of glass.

Blood began to protrude from two cat bites and a shard of glass shoved up my tendon.

I hobbled to the sofa and ripped the shard out of my tendon. I then hobbled to the bathroom, threw the shard in the waste-basket, and bandage my feet. I sneaked quietly into my room, put on a pair of socks, went back to the kitchen and swept/mopped up the bloody, orangey, glassy mess I had created.

I then angrily logged onto Facebook and complained of my frustration with the cat.

After shutting down my computer, I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and then went directly to bed, thinking for hours of many curses and other non-humane disposal methods for cats that stupidly bite feet for no apparent reason.

Many of you, at this point, quickly realize what didn't take place.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize until my wife lovingly woke me up, served me a plate of tasty buttermilk biscuits, a deliciously fried egg, and a glass of sour orange juice.

Needless to say, I spent a fair amount of time this morning at the local grocery store buying, not just orange juice, but many other items to make up for it – including several bouquets of flowers, a big chocolate bar, and a large "I'm Stupid" sticker that I then wore for the remainder of the day.

Now, adios. Thank you for your patronage. I must now return to bed.

Right after I pick up the milk.

Nicholls New Mascot

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 15:51:00 +0000

Obama Wants the US to Have High-Speed Rail Service

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 15:49:00 +0000

Last week, President Obama meet with U.S. Department of Tranportation officials for a photo-op for the 2,oooth highway project becoming funded for ARRA (stimulus) funds. While there, he gave a speech concerning high-speed rail and gave the following quote:

We also have to build a new foundation for our future growth. Today, our aging system of highways and byways, air routes, and rail lines is hindering that growth .... What we’re talking about is a vision for highspeed rail in America. Imagine boarding a train in the center of a city. No racing to an airport and across a terminal, no delays, no sitting on the tarmac, no lost luggage, no taking off your shoes. Imagine whisking through towns at speeds over 100 miles an hour, walking only a few steps to public transportation,and ending up just blocks from your destination. Imagine what a great project that would be to rebuild America.

Generally, I'd be all for high-speed rail. I think it's a great, convenient way to travel. I do think having centrally located rail stations in the middle of big cities would be helpful. However, I am concerned about safety and security. Am I reading too much into his line about "no taking off your shoes", or can I assume there is a lack of security preparations being made for these imagined high-speed rail stations?

The Wedding Banquet

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 15:57:00 +0000

I read this passage of scripture in Matthew 22 this morning:

1 Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: 2 "The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. 3 He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.

4 "Then he sent some more servants and said, 'Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.'

5 "But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business. 6 The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them. 7 The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

8 "Then he said to his servants, 'The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. 9 Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' 10 So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.

11 "But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. 12 'Friend,' he asked, 'how did you get in here without wedding clothes?' The man was speechless.

13 "Then the king told the attendants, 'Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'

14 "For many are invited, but few are chosen."

This is a passage I've read numerous times, but I'm always surprised when I get to vs. 13. I'm always expecting it to read, "Then the king told the attendants, 'Get this man some nice clothing. Buy him a suit and give him a nice tie.'"

It seems many people focus on the "loving" and "merciful" aspect of God, and say the God of the Old Testament is different in personality than the one in the New Testament. It's interesting to think, though, that there will be many people who "show up to the banquet" in heaven, before God, only to be cast out of His presence because they aren't prepared.

I think there is an important distinction to draw - it is through the mercy of the king that the man was invited to the wedding in the first place. God's mercy and grace give man an opportunity to approach Him, to seek forgiveness of sin. However, it is still the man's responsibility to be "dressed appropriately" once the party starts. I think so many people today coast by thinking, "God is loving and merciful. He'll let me into heaven because I'm a nice guy" when the truth is that we need to be a little more prepared than that.

Thoughts?

The Man Garden

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 21:05:00 +0000

Believe it or not, the J-Mann has started a garden. And this ain't one of those namby-pamby "grow-it-in-a-bucket" gardens, but it's a real life, big sized, Man Garden.

Gardening was something I had the misfortune of participating a lot in as a kid. Many, many weekends were spent over at Peepa's house digging holes, watering, and hoeing. It wasn't something I enjoyed doing so much back then. I preferred fishing, shooting things, playing sports, or tormenting the neighbor kid. "Work" was not something I looked forward to, and I quite often looked for ways to get out of it.

As I age, though, strange things are happening. As I go to work and return home every day, I tire of the routine. I look for something more to do besides watching a seemingly endless stream of crime/medical dramas. I've read some good books recently, but even that has its drawbacks as I'm only able to sit still for so long sometimes.

Back to the garden, though. Molly and I are growing potatoes, tomatoes, onions, green beans, cucumbers, and peppers. Lots and lots of peppers. We also put some seeds in the ground for lettuce and spinach, but nothing has come up so far. My goal is to make my own salsa and hot sauce. If I'm able to accomplish this goal, and if it is any good, I'll share some of it with those who are interested.

Want to know more about the traffic going on in Houma?

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 14:53:00 +0000

If you do, then get a twitter account and start following Houma_Traffic!

Worthless Cat

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 18:28:00 +0000

If you are viewing this via facebook, go to my website and view the video there.

Hill dogs Bill

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 17:31:00 +0000

24 is back!!!

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 19:46:00 +0000

I'm very excited about the return of 24. I've got to thank Lance Dunn for getting me hooked on it.

The first season I watched was Day 4. I travelled to Lafayette one weekend with the intention of surprising Molly. When I arrived in town, I went to Lance's first (as I usually did) to place my stuff in his dorm room before heading to Molly's apartment. While putting my stuff down, though, plans quickly changed. Lance had just began playing episode one of season four.

I quickly decided that since Molly was not aware that I was in town, it would not disappoint her if I just stayed in Lance's room for the next 24 hours or so watching this season. Thankfully, I arrived on a Friday at about 3pm. When I emerged from the dorm room at approximately the same time on Saturday, she was never the wiser.

Actually, it didn't happen like that. In fact, what actually happened is probably more ridiculous and funny. So much so that no one would ever believe me if I tried to explain it - so I won't. The simple point of the blog, though, is that Season 7 officially started last night, and the premier continues tonight. I am thus herefore and from henceforth thankful from my new TV and my surround sound system. This is the purpose they were created for, and therefore, I must use them to that end!

Lunch with Mike

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 14:03:00 +0000

One movie that I enjoy and that has been a "semi-favorite" for a few years now is Planes, Trains, and Automobiles starring Steve Martin and John Candy. If you haven't seen it before – or if it has been several years since your last viewing – then a brief summary is in order.

The premise of the movie is about two complete strangers – again, Steve Martin and John Candy – on the way home for Thanksgiving. They meet on an airplane and, through a very strange series of event, end up getting stuck traveling together on – you guessed it – various trains and automobiles in an effort to get home. These guys are complete opposites. Steve Martin plays the more obnoxious and uptight businessman while John Candy is a sloppy, greasy shower-ring salesman who talks too much and tells very boring stories. When Martin's character first meets Candy's character, he obviously cannot stand him. He realizes Candy caused him to miss several taxis on the way to the airport and cannot believe the ineptitude of Candy's story telling abilities. Throughout the movie, however, Martin begins to appreciate who Candy is in spite of Candy's vastly annoying habits and personality traits.

For all intents and purposes, Candy's character reminds me of my friend Mike Cobb. Mike also is a sloppy, greasy person. He tells boring stories and has a strange personality. I can't understand about 45% of the things he does. The longer I know him, though, and the more time I spend with him, the less those strange personality quirks annoy me. In a strange phenomenon, which can be explained only by the existence and strange sense of humor of God Himself, I've reached the point in my life where I actually enjoy spending time with Mike Cobb. So much so that I sometimes go against my better judgment and invite him to eat lunch with me.

It was a late night sometime in the fall of 2001 when I decided I would never eat another meal with Mike Cobb again. We were both sophomores at Nicholls. I was living on campus and trying to avoid the cafeteria. Mike was a commuter who stayed on campus late for meetings of the various organizations he was involved in. I was hungry. So was Mike. We both have a preference for Chinese buffets. I go for the imperial chicken. Mike goes for the gumbo. Thus went the evening. Several plates full.

On the way back to campus, I told Mike a joke. Now, I cannot remember the joke at this time in my life. Again, it was many years ago and, if my current attempts at jokes are any indicator, was probably not very funny. Mike, however, began to laugh. Only, he did not cease laughing when the appropriate time would have been, but continued laughing for several minutes. As I drove mile after mile, laugh after strange, annoying laugh came out. It was never a rib-splitting laugh, just a continuous, fifteen minute long chuckle. And then – it – happened. Laughs were not the only thing coming out of Mike's mouth. My brand new (to me) truck was no longer filled with bad jokes and foolish laugher, but was filled with half-way digested gumbo and, quickly following, chunks of imperial chicken. My joke caused Mike to throw-up in my truck. Mike's throw-up, splattering off my windshield and onto my shirt, caused me to throw-up. My puke cause Mike to puke some more. And on, and on until we both regretted obeying the "All-You-Can-Eat" mantra.

All that to set the stage for eight years later. Eight years of avoiding eating lunch, dinner, breakfast, brunch, or even snack-time with Mike Cobb. Eight years of trying to ensure I would tell him no jokes. Eight years of avoiding direct eye-contact. I even once considered a name change and moving to a new state. On January 3, 2009, however, I decided the wait was long enough. I figured redemption had come. Surely, in eight years, Michael Cobb had changed. Surely, he could not be the same person who puked in my car. Surely, everyone changes.

Surely, I was wrong.

Unfortunately, I was also hungry. Molly was out of town visiting her sisters and I was not about to learn how to cook, nor was I going to lower myself and eat a sandwich or some other trivial piece of garbage. I was in the mood for Chinese food. And, for some strange, odd reason, I felt the necessity to call Mike Cobb.

Now, better judgment did at this point try to talk me out of it. Various arguments from "save your money" to "watch what you eat" all played themselves out in my head. I even had Antione stick his head out of the closet mumbling something about refusing to get me a clean shirt or a towel, but it was too late. The number had already been dialed and the other line ringing.

Ring.

Eight years have gone by …

Ring.

I'm very hungry …

Ring.

I mean, what's the worse that could happen …

"Hello?"

Oh crap … can I hang up before it's too late?

"Hello, is this Josh?"

Shoot! He still has my number in his caller ID!!!

"Josh, buddy you there?"

"Hi, Mike."

"Josh! How are you, buddy? It's been forever since I've spoken to you! Happy New Year!"

"Hi, Mike. I'm doing well. Happy New Year to you, too."

"Wow! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, I … uh …"

"Don't do it!" shouted Antione.

"Mike," I gulped, "would you care to eat lunch with me today?"

I heard the closet door close and turned to see Antione had vanished as quickly as he appeared.

"I'd be honored! Where would you care to dine? Chinese?"

A cold sweat began dripping down my forehead.

"Yes, I was thinking Chinese."

"Dynasty buffet, Panda Panda, Mr. Kim's, Bo Bo's, or Dragon Garden?"

"Er … how about China Gardens?"

"Wow seriously? I thought you swore we could never eat there again?

"Well, I did … but I figured this time, I would let you drive and I'd be the passenger!"

"Ha! Sure. I'll be there to pick you up in say, twenty minutes?"

"That would be wonderful."

Well, that was that. I was in for the long haul now. There was no turning back. It would be me, and Mike, and an unsuspecting buffet of various meats, carbohydrates, sauces, and gumbo. And me. And Mike.

The mixed feelings were beginning to sink in, but I did my best to shake them off. I was going to have a good time with an old friend. We were going to catch up on our post-college lives. And, this time, there was absolutely no chance of puke in my truck. If Mike was going to let it fly, then it would be in his own car. His 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster. The 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster which soon pulled into my driveway and then, ten minutes later, into China Gardens.

And the same 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster that I watched in disbelief pull out of the Chinese buffet about five minutes after that.

It happened fairly quickly. We were seated, ordered our drinks, and stood up to begin piling on the food. As I grabbed my plate and walked away from the table, I heard Mike answer his cell phone and saw a face of strange disbelief as I watched from the meat-bar. As I put fried rice on my plate, I saw Mike stand up and walk towards the entrance. As I sat back down at the table and began to chew my food, I saw him sit in the car. As I pulled the second plate of food to my mouth, smoke began to drift out of the exhaust pipe. And as I took a sip of my artificially sweetened, non-brew tea, the car pulled out of the driveway and into traffic.

Confused, I leaned back and observed my surroundings. Besides a gooey-eyed couple at the corner booth, and the 400lb. man eating by himself two tables over, I was the only patron in the restaurant. There were four servers, a host, and what looked to be two bus-boys on duty. Mike's cherry-cola and specialty ordered seven dollar gumbo sat in front of me. Next to that was a hand-written note scribbled on a piece of crumbled up napkin reading, "Family emergency. Be back soon."

I forked a shrimp and brought it to my mouth. I tried to ponder the set of circumstances I was in, but couldn't quite get my mind wrapped around it. Mike had left the restaurant. He would surely return, I assumed. He probably wouldn't be long at all. I ate another shrimp and glanced at the guy sitting two tables over. The poor sap had two plates of food in front of him. He was putting down some artificial crab in cheese sauce and fried rice. I watched him eat for a few minutes until it must have been obvious I was staring at him. I then looked up at the gooey-eyed couple at the back of the room. They weren't eating much and would just wink at each other every now and then. Their smiles were about the goofiest thing I had witnessed all day. And that included the fourteen hundred dollar sound system Mike Cobb had in his car to play his Super Nintendo music soundtrack. The fourteen hundred dollar sound system in the 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster. The 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster that pulled out of the Chinese restaurant's parking lot about ten minutes earlier. I looked back at my plate of greasy meat and rice. I slowly mixed them together and then took another bite.

"Where is other guy?" I heard a voice say.

I looked up and saw the same Asian waitress who had taken our drink orders seventeen minutes earlier.

"Oh … he's in the restroom," I said.

"We no have public restroom."

"Um, then you may want to check out by the dumpster. All I know is he said he had to …"

"He order this special lobster. Gus bring it out now?"

"Uh … sure. He should only be a few minutes."

"Okay, Gus bring lobster now."

The woman wondered off and a short Hispanic guy brought a lobster out about two minutes later. It was still steaming.

"I didn't know you guys had lobster on the menu here," I said to the guy.

"Typically we don't, he replied. "Mr. Cobb comes here regular. He called it in."

"Interesting. It looks good."

"Tastes like stale garbage."

"I don't think I want to even try to imagine that flavor."

"Have you eaten the fried rice?"

"Yes…"

"Then it shouldn't be too hard," he said, then walked away.

It had now been about twenty-five minutes since Mike had left. I still had only taken a few bites of food. The guy two tables down was working on plate six. The kids in the back were now holding hands.

"I check by dumpster. He no there. You lie?" The woman was back.

"No, I … I'm not sure where he is."

"I get manager."

"No, please. He will be back shortly."

She stormed off. My plate was about half eaten. Mike's gumbo was cold and his lobster was also beginning to cool. Big boy started plate seven. Gooey-eyes were whispering and giggling. Another group walked into the place. It was five kids and their grandparents. I cleared my plate and then took a few bites of Mike's gumbo. By now I was starting to get hungry, and I didn't want it to completely go to waste.

Forty-five minutes. Certainly, Mike would be back soon. I looked up from the bowl of gumbo and saw the woman returning.

"You want fortune cookie?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Where friend?"

"I'm not sure."

"Manager said you need stop lie. Or leave."

"But, I don't know. He should be back soon."

"He gone one hour. You pay for gumbo."

"Sure, I ate it."

"You pay lobster."

"But I didn't order lobster."

"You owe $57.63."

I sighed and handed her my debit card. She walked off towards the cash register. I grabbed the lobster and began to pick it apart. I had never eaten lobster before, so I wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. Unfortunately, this particular lobster did indeed taste very much like stale trash.

Several minutes later the woman was back.

"Credit card rejected."

It was then I remember that I had only gotten a new debit card the day before. I had not yet activated it, but had already taken the old one out of my wallet. To activate the card, I needed to either call an 1800 number or make an ATM transaction with it.

"Any chance I can run to an ATM?"

"Friend disappear. Now you want leave? No! You pay $57.63."

The restaurant closed at 10pm. About fifteen minutes prior to closing, Mike Cobb walked back in and profusely apologized to me. I had spent the last several hours at my "new job" washing dishes and cleaning out stale trash in the back. He asked the manager if he could pay for his meal, but the manager said it had already been taken care of. The manager did, however, feel bad that Mike didn't get to eat any of his meal after hearing about the family emergency, so he had another lobster boiled up and a pot of gumbo made for Mike to bring home – no charge since he was such a frequent customer.

"Josh, I really am sorry," Mike said when we got back to the 1979 beige Buick Roadmaster. "My mom's favorite plant was starting to wilt. It was given to her by our gardener who passed away six years ago. There is a garden shop in Alexandria that specializes in the type of soil needed to keep the plant fresh and vibrant. Needless to say, Mom called me soon after I arrived and asked me to run and pick some up."

"Alexandria is five hours away from here."

"I know! I made great time, didn't I?"

"You said you would be right back."

"No!" snorted Mike, "I said I would be back soon! I'd say it was very soon considering all I had to go through."

At the very end of Plane, Trains, and Automobiles, the viewer discovers that all the while, though it appeared John Candy was renting a car and buying train tickets to get Steve Marin home, he was, in fact, using Steve Martin's credit card the entire time. Martin, however, feels for Candy and, as he understands Candy's situation, forgives him and invites him to his home for Thanksgiving.

It will be another eight years and then some before I even consider inviting Mike Cobb into my home for Thanksgiving. I've always thought Plane, Trains, and Automobiles was a very foolish movie, anyhow. I much rather The Godfather with Al Pacino. Now there is a man who knows how to handle the things that are bothering him.

Bring on 2009

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 16:57:00 +0000

Well, it looks as if 2008 is officially over. I can say that I've definitely enjoyed it. As far as years go, it was a pretty good one for me.

For those of you who don't know, I got married in 2008. That was something that I really don't have anything to complain about. I've had some pretty good meals and a clean house since then. During that time, my job has stabilized into something full-time with pretty good benefits. And, it's actually something I don't mind doing when I wake up in the morning. I get to see a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff in government as far as transportation and other things goes. And I've got some real cool, top of the line technology to use when it comes to getting my job done.

My recommendations to all my readers is to: 1) get married to someone worthwhile getting married to, 2) get a job and become someone worthwhile getting married to, 3) work hard at enjoying what you are doing.

I guess I could use a few goals for 2009. I hadn't really thought about it much, but if I had to pick some, they could be:

1.) Read a few more good books. I received some good ones for Christmas that I'm looking forward to getting through. My brother-in-law Zeke gave me some Lord of the Rings Middle Earth History books. Molly gave me a few true-life crime books, including a biography of Ted Kaczynski. I've also started reading the James Bond books, and I've got so say I've enjoyed them thus far.

2.) Build some stuff. I guess another goal of mine is to become more proficient in home repair / maintenance. Molly and I have been doing some remodeling and sprucing up our home, and I find I'm enjoying it more than I thought. I got a few power tools for Christmas, and I fully plan on making the most of them over the year to come.

3.) Get a bird feeder. Oddly enough, I like watching birds eat. I think I'm getting old.

4.) Develop a better spiritual life. I've noticed a trend to be satisfied with was I've already learned about God, and lack a desire to grow in that relationship. I need to have more of a hunger for spiritual things, and not just to for granted where I've been and my past "accomplishments."

5.) Eat healthier and exercise. Yeah … sure ….

Well, goodbye, 2008! Bring it on, 2009!

My New Blog

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 22:19:00 +0000

Well, the new blog seems to be working well thus far. I can type my ideas from OneNote - which is pretty much the standard word processor/idea hasher-outer I use at work - and then simply click a button and have them post to the blog. This way, I really don't need to sign in and use the silly web-editor blogger gives. I've got the JoshManning.com URL pointing directly here. Now, all I need to do is find some way to upload the old blog posts and stories somewhere. I'd be a shame to loose all that … unless, of course, I spend some time polishing, editing, and publishing it … hrmm ……..

In the mean time, being constrained to a simple blog vs. having my very own web space does present some issues. Mainly, not being able to host as much stuff as I'd like to. It drastically changes my web presence. The website was more of a catch all for any random idea that popped into my head. I could literally host any picture, video, short story, or idea I had. The web has, I think, advanced greatly so that I now no longer need my own website, though. What was once special and unique to JoshManning.com has become standard via social networking sites such as facebook and myspace. And, of course, with youtube, all the things I used the website for can pretty much be done with free applications floating around. It looks like blogger has the capability, though, to let me bring all these things together….

In other news, I sprang for cable and had it installed today. The 24 season is coming up soon, and if you think I'm going to miss that, then you must have never seen it.

Blog This!

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 22:06:00 +0000

I'm currently testing Microsoft Office OneNote's blogging feature. Supposedly, I can write and arrange ideas here, and then - with the click of a button - publish them to a blog. Is it working??

JoshManning.com to move to blogger!

noreply@blogger.com (The J-Mann) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 20:18:00 +0000

I've just been informed by my technical staff that the www.JoshManning.com website will need a new web host. While depressing, this is not an unexpected turn of events. At this point, I have two options:

1.) Invest in new web hosting for a blog/website I hardly keep up with anymore

2.) Retreat here, to blogger

The fact that I'm here should answer your question. Within the next few days, I will download all JoshManning.com files from the web and will point the url here. I may look around for places to store all of the files, but I'm not willing to pay to have any of it hosted somewhere. At least not at this point in my life.