Thursday, July 30, 2009

an open letter to 44.

Dear Mr. President,

I don't even know where to start this letter (or web log, it's whatever), because more than anything I don't want to start a political holy war or criticize everything you're doing because I started thinking about it and I'd really hate it if someone sat around and wrote something for the whole internetS to see about my job/work ethic/dog choice/other things that are escaping me right now. What I'm trying to say is-- I'm not looking to attack you or tell you that you're an idiot. Just so you know.

Anyway. Here's the deal: I didn't vote for you. There were a few reasons for this, but the main one being that I don't really agree with any of your policies and that's just the truth of it. After you were elected I vowed to give you a chance to prove me wrong and I promised to support you. But, dawg, you're starting to really frustrate me.

And when I say frustrate I kind of mean you're about to piss me off. Our country (this country that I love and cherish and would marry if I could) is in turmoil (Duress, Crisis, Shit city, Up a creek without a paddle). I realize that you inherited this sinking ship, but you also chose to captain it. I seriously doubt anybody forced you into running for President. So, you pretty much knew what you were getting into. I mean, regardless the current state of our country, it's the hardest job in the world and you totally knew that coming in.

All of that being said, I should get to the point of my spiel: I'm all about you shooting hoops with your boyz in the backyard. It's pretty chill that you have a picnic table, too. I like that you're taking your baby mama on dates, but I draw the line on a date-night that cost taxpayers upwards of $73,000. That's where you started to frustrate me. I mean, I know you're a 25% shareholder in GM and all, but was that really a good idea? Close to 10% of Americans are currently out of work, China owns my soul and probably the Washington Monument, too. The United States is in more trouble than a Southern Baptist caught dancing with a Catholic while holding a beer and preaching pre-destination at the Democratic National Convention. Yeah, it's that bad and I feel like you, Mr. President are standing by and watching this country deteriorate without even throwing a punch.

I'm all for you being "real" and "keeping it real" and everything that that means and doesn't mean. You are young, you have young children and you are attached to your Blackberry. Cool. That doesn't mean I need you tweeting Joe Biden during the day and drinking beers at night while the world watches. No, Mr. President, I need you to be the President. I need you to start acting a little more responsible and little less like a fraternity rush chair.

I need you to quit making grand speeches and do. I don't think that's asking too much. I'm tired of turning on the news and seeing you at a restaurant buying hamburgers and ice cream for your staff. I'm tired of hearing about the dates you're taking your wife on. And I'm really tired of you acting like you're another Joe Plumber (SHOUT OUT--bMayes) when you're actually not, you're the freakin' President of the United States of (FREAKIN') America.

Enjoy your little beer summit tonight, Mr. President and then please start doing some real work. That's all I'm asking.

Signed with much sincerity,
an informed and concerned citizen of these United States

I'm very well aware of the fact that Congress has a lot to do with things that are going on right now, but I thought I'd start at the top rather than writing a letter to 535 elected officials. But, I can if you want or if you want to just send this on yourself you can do that, too. It's whatever.

I'm not mad at you, just disappointed. In the beginning, I was starting to warm up to you and now I just don't know how I feel. I'm sorry, I hope we can still be friends after this.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

america: bless it.

I spent this past weekend in Philadelphia.

This blog has seen the phrase, "the happiest I've ever been" on several occasions, but I think honestly, standing in the room where the Declaration of Independence was signed was truly, the happiest I've ever been in my 25 years of life.

There were several moments where I found myself thinking about all the what-ifs. What if Thomas Paine didn't think it made sense to fight for rights as Americans and not as British colonists? What if Teej didn't hold any truths to be evident? What if John Hancock was a coward? What if John Adams didn't want to fight? The list could go on and on...What if Britain would've recognized what was actually taking place and sent troops sooner? I'll tell you what! Lots of important men would've been tried and hanged for treason. The dreams of a free America would've been put to rest and we would have to rely on the likes of Millard Fillmore to start this great nation (I'm beyond glad this wasn't the case).

Can you just imagine what America would be like without a peaceful transfer of power every four years? That's a place I don't want to live. I'm so very thankful that my boy Teej and his band of rebels had the fortitude to imagine a country I'm proud to call home.

Here's to living for a cause.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


What is normal? Everyone's favorite question, right?

I just looked it up and according to Mr. Webster, normal is, but not limited to the following: a) conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern b) occurring naturally c) perpendicular to a tangent at a point of tangency and my personal fave, d) free from mental disorder. That is my favorite because finally, after all these years, I have proof that I am normal. Becky D. McKee (SHOUT OUT) can no longer claim, in all her infinite wisdom, that I'm some sort of side show in the shit show of life.

I digress.

Growing up, everything that your family does is normal to you. It usually takes years and years of adulthood and being around lots of other people for you to find the indiscretions taking place in your family home. For instance, as a youngster, I thought everyone had a 32-gallon trash can in their kitchen. Turns out, that isn't the case, most kitchens have 13-gallon trash cans. Who knew that other families across the country weren't hoarding a small dumpster next to their respective fridges? Not me, I tell you, not me.

I think I've treaded, albeit lightly (BEN FRANKLIN-- SHOUT OUT), on this subject before, but I seriously had no idea that other families didn't get up at 3am to begin road trips. Turns out, in other families, 630 or 7am is pretty early. But, if you told my family, "we're leaving pretty early...about 630..." I think we'd all laugh in your face and tell you that you might as well not come at all.

More digression.

It seems to me, that lately, more and more people are under the disillusionment that their role in society is something different than just being their normal self. Everyone is desperately trying to fit into some weird mold that wasn't made for them. Ie; Jon Gosselin wearing Ed Hardy (or anyone wearing Ed Hardy, really), Spencer and Heidi seeking out fame without accomplishing anything that would actually make them worthy of fame...Middle-aged men in rural Pennsylvania with eight children do not naturally progress to wearing Ed Hardy and typically people don't become famous without accomplishing something.

If being normal is letting things occur naturally, why don't we do more of that? I mean, I've been trying to be famous since birth, but I'm letting it occur naturally. Meaning, I'm absolutely convinced that I will be discovered, some day, for my dancing skills or my biting sarcasm. Either way, I'm not forcing it.

I say, let's just all move to a more normal way of life-- let things occur naturally and quit trying to fit yourself into an undersized Ed Hardy tiger-laden-shirt with bedazzled teeth.

Monday, July 20, 2009

just saying.

I'm just saying, when you glorify teenage pregnancy by putting a show about it on MTV bad things happen.

I'm just saying, when you only communicate with people via technology relationships tend to sour.

I'm just saying, red and orange Sour Patch Kids taste 10-15 times better than the green and yellow ones.

I'm just saying, there is a Hell, it's very real, and America is standing right next to the handbasket.

I'm just saying, Beyonce may be the greatest thing to happen to America since the 19th Amendment.

I'm just saying, I really respect people who work outside during the summer in Texas.

I'm just saying, it's only natural to want to punch someone who annoys you.

I'm just saying, days are better when you're nice to people and there's chocolate in the kitchen.

I'm just saying, I like free stuff more than I don't.

But, I'm not saying, I'm just saying.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


This post about my dearest of dear friends, Bekah DeNasty "Becky" Davis McKee, is long overdue and completely unnecessary, but I figured since I spent the weekend moving into her and her preshie pot husband, Murseph's backhouse (or room above their garage, whatever you want to call it) that today should be the day I dedicate a web log to her.

Becky and me at her bridesmaid luncheon. She is one of the few people who trust me and love me enough to actually let me stand on the stage during a wedding ceremony.

Our friendship started off rocky, just about seven years ago. When I left Russellville to head north for college I had three rules: go to class, don't tell the parents too many details about what I was doing in college and look for a girl named Bekah Davis and DO NOT befriend her. The first two rules were obvi from the parental units and the third was from a friend in high school who didn't necessarily love Becky because they dated the same boy. Melodrama. Anyway, I looked for her, found her and tried with every ounce of my being to not like her or be her friend, but it didn't work, as I was hooked on her ridiculously thick accent and complete inappropriateness.

I would like to share with you an acrostic poem, written by me, for Becky as a web log dedication on this day, July 14, 2009.

Bold. She has a knack for always telling me what I need to hear, when it's usually not what I want to hear. Sometimes this translates into texts or emails that say, "you really pissed me off," but that's only if we're talking about a Facebook wall post or fashion choices.
She is truly one of the most exciting people to attend events with, including: birthday parties, Britney Spears concerts, bars and Chuy's happy hour. She makes everything exciting and fun.
Crazy. Certifiable.
Kamp friend. In addition to attending the U of A together, we were at Kanakuk together for three summers. We had a signal for the phrase, "hell yeah!"
Yahweh. She is a follower.

De-cent. She is DE-CENT. She gon' take you to the baby swang, take your car for a test drive and pick her nose until it bleeds. She de-cent.
Adventurous. She's not afraid to get in the car and go, but does have trouble actually committing.
Vivacious. She's outgoing, fun and lively. She is the life of the party everywhere she goes.
Inappropriate. She's just inappropriate. For example: she is the only person I know that would yell at a homeless person, "HOMELESS!" Just because.
Sincere. She may shade out a bit when it comes to answering the phone or emails, but when it counts she's all there and she's incredibly sincere about being shady. I appreciate that.

Money in the bank. She's just cool. She can pull off just about any hairstyle, any outfit, any phrase and make it look good.
Cool. See above.
Kind. But, usually only to animals.
Electric. Her personality can light up any room.
E. I don't want to do another "E" so I'll just say this: Bekah is one of my favorite people of all-time to sit in a room with and just talk. She's hilarious and honest. I can walk into a room and instantly know if she agrees with my clothing choices. In two seconds flat she can decide if I'm in a bad mood and three seconds later decide if it's justified or if I'm sulking. She's a former child beauty queen who's let it get to her head. She's smart and can sing with her mouth closed. She didn't let her poor public education in southern rural Arkansas stop her from achieving her goal of having six jobs four years out of college. She loves her family and trashy reality television. She never made it to the WNBA or Channel 1 News, but she does have a cat and she can drop it like it's hot on command. She can't throw a softball or tell you where the Statue of Liberty came from, but she'll make you laugh until you cry and if you pester her enough, she'll eventually become your best friend and ask you to be in her wedding.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

summer playlist.

Pretty Flowers--Vince Gill and Dolly Parton, with Steve Martin
Slip Away-- Clarence Carter
You Rock My World-- Michael Jackson
You're the Good Things-- Modest Mouse
Ego-- Beyonce
If I Had a Boat-- Lyle Lovett
Get You In-- Better than Ezra
Shout out Loud-- Amos Lee
Midnight Train to Georgia-- Gladys Knight and the Pips

With special appearances by Neil Diamond, Usher, Stevie Wonder, Fiest, Steven Curtis Chapman and on really special occasions, Cat Stevens, Kings of Leon and Simply Red.

Monday, July 6, 2009

re: awesome.

Dear Beyonce,

You are on a short list. That list is a list of people who I am currently in awe of or have ever been in awe of: Jose Canseco in 1988, Ace Clement, a women's basketball player at the University of Tennessee (1998-2002), my grandmother Bonnie, Lily Riemer, for not using drugs during her labor, Jill Williams and you. That list gets even shorter when you consider the fact that Jose Canseco has been off it for years and although I would still love to go to dinner with Ace, she too is a fallen hero (not because of steroids, just because I grew up).

When I bought tickets to your concert months ago I knew it was one of the smartest decisions I had ever made. I had to join your fan club to get them early and at first I was embarrassed, but now I couldn't be more proud. I might even put a bumper sticker on my car. Or not. I haven't really decided.

Beyonce, I think you're the greatest performer I've ever seen and remember, I've been to a Nelly concert. I won't lie though: your dancers were much more risque than Nelly's. You never did anything to make me doubt that you love Jesus, but when your dancers did the "alley cat" during your last costume change I did have to turn my head.

I thought your concert was entertaining from beginning to end and I'm even counting the part where you put the picture of Michael Jackson on the screen, gave a little speech, started singing "Halo" and changed the lyrics to, Michael, I can see your halo. That part was so cheesy it had me doubled over in laughter. I pulled it together before offending the people behind me, but Beyonce...GET SERIOUS.

Beyonce, I can't believe that you can do the dance moves you do in heels. I can't believe the dance moves you do period, actually.

Beyonce, you should be president. I know a lot about presidents and I think you'd be a pretty good one. Just get a good cabinet in place to support you and you'll be golden.

Thanks for sharing your talent with the world.

your biggest fan of all-time, but I swear I'm not creepy,

Thursday, July 2, 2009

happy 233rd.

Ahhhh, smells like democracy.

I mean, is there a greater a country in the world? Aside from our outlandish deficit, poor health care system, reliance on the internets and immediate gratification, and our pompous celebration of celebrities and criminals over actual people doing good things, I can't imagine a better place to spend life on Earth. Unless you enjoy naps and lots of vacation time, then maybe you should head to Europe, otherwise, seriously, America is where it's at.

Sometimes I wonder if Teej and the boyz really knew what they were creating when they got together and started talking about starting a revolution. I mean, I doubt that they loved tea that much (I am of course, speaking of the Boston Tea Party). I really wonder if Teej, Benji and the Adams fellas really sat around talking about starting a country and daydreamed that someday it'd be a world superpower with an army going around the globe freeing others from tyranny. Like, do you think Sam Adams looked at John and said, "Yeah, this Revolution is a good idea...but, let's think long-term...what do we want this place to look like 233 years from now?I really hope that this nation turns into a place where athletes are paid millions and millions of dollars, where everyone is up in arms over boys marrying boys, where musical artists get more coverage upon their deaths than foreign countries trying to vote freely without millions dying and where elected officials disappear for days at a time only to come home and say they've been doing the dirty with someone other than their wifey. Yeah, that sounds like a place I want to live...OH...and I really hope we can somehow figure out transportation from one place to another other than a horse and maybe the government can own two-thirds of whatever companies figure that out. Now, that would be cool!"

For some reason, call it a gut-feeling, I just don't think that that conversation happened. I can't imagine that this, America version 233, is at all what our founders had in mind. I mean, Teej would definitely not be a fan of the government today. He was more into small government.

Nonetheless, no matter the vision Teej and the boyz had, this is a great place to live and be free. A great place to speak openly about government, to worship my God without fear, to pick out my own toilet paper (and doctor, for now) and to enjoy a cold beverage on a hot day. This is America and despite it's flaws and countless inconsistencies it is, without hesitation, the greatest country on Earth.

"The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not." --John Adams, in a letter to his wifey, Abigail (he was off by two days, but seriously-- he predicted fireworks?! come on!)

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