Thursday, December 31, 2015

Cousin Jody and the Wheel of Misfortune

I have this cousin named, Jody. When he was a baby, his momma dropped him on his head—more than once. Somehow he got accepted for Wheel of Fortune, so he goes out there last July, while I was in D.C. He wanted me to go with him, but I couldn’t get done in D.C. in time. So he goes out to California by himself.

He said he couldn’t sleep for days cause he was so-o-o excited. He shows up at the studio one Monday for the shooting. They take you through the game, sort of a dress rehearsal, first. They let you spin the wheel and stuff. I think he said they played a whole dummy game for practice. So him and the other contestants were real keyed up and ready to play for real.

Finally the real game begins, Jody wins the Toss-up puzzle and gets to spin first. He guesses a ‘T’ (good one!). There are 2 ‘T’s, so he spins again. He guesses an ‘S’ (another good one!) and sure enough, there are 2 of ‘em. Next he buys an ‘O’. And there are a couple of them. Spins again, and asks for an ‘R’.  There’s two ‘R’s.

Then he says, “Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle.” The host nods, and Jody says, “Anterian Pushonizer.”

So Pat Sajak does a double take and says, “What did you say?”

“Anterian Pushonizer.” Old Jody says it again, only with real conviction this time.

“I’m sorry, Jody. That is NOT correct. It’s Mary’s turn.”

Mary still has a very baffled stare all over her face. “Uh, I’ll spin, Pat,” she says. And she does. She lands on $550 and asks for a ‘D’. Bad idea, Mary!

So next it goes to Andrew and he spins the wheel and lands on “BANKRUPT.”

Then, you guessed it—it’s Jody’s turn again. He says, “Pat, I’d like to make another guess.”

So Pat looks worried, but what can he say? “Sure, Jody. Go ahead.”

“Anterian Pushonizer,” Jody guesses.

Pat and Vanna exchange looks of concern and bewilderment. They’re thinking, ‘Thank God this isn’t LIVE!’

“I’m sorry, Jody. That is incorrect.”

Mary blankly reaches over, spins the wheel and lands on $900. “I’ll take an ‘L’, Pat.”  Guess what? There are 5 ‘L’s.  As soon as Vanna reveals the ‘L’s and moves out of the way, Mary says, “I’d like to guess, Pat.” He looks relieved. With great deliberation, Mary announces, “Full-Color Illustrations.”

“Mary, that is correct.” The remaining puzzle letters are turned over and the audience starts applauding.

As soon as the whole puzzle is revealed, Jody shouts, “Hey, Pat, I thought you said the answer was not “Anterian Pushonizer.”

“It wasn’t, Jody. Mary’s guess was correct. The answer to the puzzle is, ‘Full-Color Illustrations.’”

So Jody runs over to the puzzle board (Vanna warily moves backward). He throws his hands up at the puzzle and says, “What do you call this? Anterian Pushonizer!

Pat’s had enough, so he motions for the stage hands to escort Jody from the studio, but first they have to catch him. He runs around and around the puzzle board, shouting, “Anterian Pushionizer, Anterian Pushonizer! See, I told you!”

He was finally caught and escorted off the studio lot. Needless to say, that particular show never aired.

Copyright© 2002 – Carolyn L. Sorrell – All Rights Reserved

SENSIBLE SHOES: A TALE OF TWO CORNS

Ever found yourself anyplace where you’ll be required to do quite a bit of walking—up, down; in, out; back and forth—and lo and behold! You’re wearing some truly torturous shoe wear?

Women are the ones who most often find themselves in this predicament. Why? It’s our vanity that drives us. All the other ladies are wearing cute sandals with toe rings. Or elegant platform heels with pointy toes (undoubtedly designed by a man, the incarnate seed of Satan himself!)

What do we do in response to this footwear challenge? Go to the nearest shoe store and purchase the very latest in fashion trends available to us. Hang the cost! Our feet will look adorable, the most excellent at the party, or else!

While we’re at it, we’ll get a pedicure. And the cutest toe ring we can find. And we’ll show up at this party/convention/family get-together/trip to Six Flags/day at the beach with the most wonderful feet possible. Our feet will be deliciously attractive. They will lure all the men (even the ones who are not available) and make ALL the women insanely jealous.

Our goal here is simple:  we are driven to best every woman within ten miles! And make it look effortless. This is one of the games we ladies play. And most of us not only enjoy playing it, but we’re good at it. That’s what makes it so much fun; we’re just so damn good at it!

So here’s the current predicament in my own life: I’m in Michigan. Staying at a classy hotel. All these bitches have the look of gold; born to luxury and privilege. My challenge (if I choose to except it) is to find and wear cuter shoes.

But here’s the problem:  there’s a lot of walking. The meeting room is on one end of the hallway; the coke machine on another; the rest room on still another. There’s no close-up parking because the hotel is packed. 150 inspectors from all over the US are here attending all the same briefings and shit that you are.

So you reluctantly park a block away and walk carrying a laptop, a 1-inch thick manual, a notebook, your purse, which is stuffed with all your regular junk plus bottled water and a soft drink. You walk…and walk….and walk…all day, every day for three long days. Result:  hellacious corns!

Will we women ever learn? Probably not. In fact, the Vegas bookies have it 3 to 1 against. We are victims of Wall Street, genetic engineering, age-old rivalry.


Whatever you blame it on, know this: there are foot remedies at your local Walmart. Take advantage of them. And take comfort knowing this: you do not walk alone!

Thursday, August 6, 2015

PUERTO RICO DE MIS SUENOS

If a country could steal your heart, it would be this one. I know it won’t appeal to everyone, but my personality is such that we fit well together. 

The lack of caution and care in everyday life; the haphazard way the town is thrown together. It’s as if it hasn’t occurred, even to city planners, that erecting a building only a few feet away from a street that is already too narrow, is a bad idea.

The highways are littered with strays of every kind—cats, dogs, chickens and even cows and horses. I’ve seen horses walking down city streets or eating grass out of a neighbor’s yard. Perhaps that’s the number one thing that draws me most—I am a stray, of a different sort, to be sure. But still a stray.


No home, no family, no place where I belong. There’s no reason for me to ever go home.

When I get home from work tonight, I will undress, step into the shower, stand under the warm water (hopefully it will be warm, but you never know in Puerto Rico), and I will weep for half an hour. Then I will get out, dry off and be fine again for awhile.

 

The tears flow when I remember that I’ve been out on the road for many long months and that this is the last big disaster of the season. I’ll go home soon. Life on the road suits me. Places where you never know what will happen when you get up each morning or where a day will take you.


These mountains, they take your breath away. The ocean at Old San Juan is the bluest you’ve ever seen; no description captures it. The Caribbean, just an hour south of here is vast and remarkable. Many of the people are so poor that they live in little huts they built out of scrap lumber and cardboard. 

These houses often have no doors or windows. Though they’re the shabbiest little huts you ever saw, they’re often built on the side of the most spectacular mountain away from all the noise of the big city. The only sounds are the wind, the birds, the rustling of tree branches.


How could one not come here and lose their heart to this rare and extraordinary place? It’s an exotic country where strays like me fit in just fine.

I will eventually go home. There won’t be another hurricane in the 2004 season. I’ll go back to my normal life and friends will throw a big party to welcome me home to the states. We’ll drink all night and I’ll tell them a few of the dicey stories of what really happens out on the streets of a big city that’s just been destroyed by a natural disaster. Then I’ll go home and toss and turn all night, longing to be back on the streets of Ai Bonito for one more terrifying ride around the big mountain the city is built on.

 

I’ll remember every hairpin curve and all those 200 foot drop-offs and wonder how I could possibly have survived. I’ll remember the many lunches with various interpreters and how they were so intrigued to hear all the stories about America, as if it were some kind of magical place.

 

I’ll get so restless that I finally crawl into my car around midnight, put in my favorite jazz CD and then hit the highway. I’ll drive and drive. Finally, I’ll see a Best Western, pull in and check in for the night. For a long time after coming home from a long disaster season, you just feel more at home in a hotel than your own bed. 

The next morning, I’ll sleep in and then put on some shorts and go down to the dining room. They’ll have fresh squeezed OJ, muffins and coffee. I’ll sit down, fix my coffee and stare around the room trying to recall where I am.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I simply dreamed that the 2004 season finally ended and I returned home? Wouldn’t it be funny if someone across the room dropped a cup and it woke me up and I found myself in my hotel room in Ai Bonito? 

I stayed there for a month at the end of the 2004 season after hurricane Jeanne hit the Island nation. I’ve longed to go back there so many times in the 10 years that have followed. I often daydream that I’ll wake up one morning and find that I’m still deployed and still living there in Paradise.

 

Somewhere there’s home and a God who loves me. Somehow, all this works together for some greater plan. Trouble is, I’m just not smart enough to figure out what it is. Some mysteries can be solved and some are meant to remain mysteries.


Carolyn L. Sorrell – Copyright November 2004 – All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 5, 2015

The Big Blue Blog

Being a Freak of Nature in an Unnatural World...

The world has gone mad and there's no coming back from this madness. Nowadays, you must accept their political correctness agenda or be an outcast, but wait a minute ... I've always been an outcast. No one has ever understood me or even wanted to really get to know me.

A few times, I have tried to share about who I really am, but it makes people nervous. You see, I have a few God-given gifts that frighten people and make them stand-offish. But those gifts are part of who I am.

After an entire lifetime of trying to look and act normal so I could be accepted and loved, I've discovered some important things. All those people I was trying to impress with how "Normal" I am, are no longer around. So why did I just spend my entire lifetime trying to please them and behave in a way that would make me acceptable in their world?

I guess I never did really change. I just pretended to be like everyone else. You can get pretty good at pretending and convince even the best of them. That's what us freaks of nature do ... We get very good at blending into the background, like a Chameleon. But we lose our own soul when we do that. We stop being unique.

We give up our uniqueness in exchange for the dream of being accepted and normal. I think what we need to give up is the dream of being normal. Instead, we should just be ourselves and let people react how ever they're going to. Maybe they won't like us - But maybe we'll like ourselves better.

The moment you give up trying to pretend to be like "Them", that's the moment when you become more real and more acceptable than you've ever been before.

All those years of the Masquerade, they stole me, my identity, my joy of life. Trying to be someone else will crush your spirit. They crushed me into the dust of the earth and I melded into earth and lay there staring up at a star-filled sky.

I was lost! At the end of all my striving to be perfect and acceptable, I lost myself. What irony!

Well, that's all I have to say today. This blog is dedicated to all who are largely misunderstood by friends and family--whatever the reason! Those are my Peeps! We share a gene.

We never asked to be the way we are. It was life or God or the devil or just happenstance. Whatever the cause, we just want the world to know that we're sick of hiding in the background, trying to act normal, to blend in, so we don't upset anyone.

Get over yourselves and just deal with us! The whole world can't be filled with upper middle class soccer moms, Yuppies and Millennials. How boring would that be?