“Cornell vs Bucknell… why?”

ROOFTOP – “Memory. All alone in the moonlight, I can smile at the old days,
I was—“ Oops, sorry about that. There’s not a moon out tonight and I’m not cat, but that just seems like a song for now.

I can sing louder, but it’ll wake up the dogs in the neighborhood. The least little thing. My voice isn’t all that bad, is it? I say my singing voice isn’t—Thank you. That seemed forced, but I’ll take it, Brenda.

I was asked to take choir in elementary school. Did you know that? Yes, Mrs. Page recognized that I could sing. She wanted me bad. But, I never took choir at any time in school. For one reason, I knew I’d have to learn to read music. I couldn’t do that. Makes no sense. You’ve got your flats and eighth notes and treble clefs. “Class, we’ll do this one in C sharp!” Give me a break.

The main reason I have an untrained voice is because I didn’t want to have to wear a sissy choir robe. The choir always sang at the Christmas assembly, and I hated the thought of standing out there in a robe. And, the teacher would make me do a solo ‘cause my voice is so great and – What? One of you keeps mumbling and it’s most irritating.

I would look like the poor sap on the left.

Anyway, it would’ve been embarrassing for the guys on the football team to see me. They would’ve made fun. If you ever watch “Glee” you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Isn’t it weird how just one thing… or one fear in life can keep you from taking a chance. If I could go back, I would join the choir and become the singing defensive safety. – “Coach, that defensive back over there keeps singing ‘Who’ll stop the rain?’ He’s freaking me out.” – “Oh, Number 11? He’s the singing safety. Next time you’re out there, see if he’ll sing some John Denver.”

I’ll probably dream something like that tonight. If it’s weird enough, I’ll dream it. Speaking of weird has nothing to do with Jill’s visit last weekend. My kid sister was a bit down. One of those, -- “Are you, okay, Sis?” – “Yeah, I’m just… I don’t know.” -- You ever get like that? Can’t explain why, but you’re seeing things through a fog of the blues.

Jill and I usually experience the same stuff. Except kidney stones. She’s never had ‘em. And, I’ve never had a child. But, I’ve been one. -- Beg pardon? More mumbling.

Anyway, Jill was feeling down, so it was my job to perk her up. It’s what I do. I should’ve dragged her buns up here, but didn’t think of it. No, I decided to use football to cheer her up. Saturdays during football season are the best, Jerry. Unfortunately, Jill hates to watch football, but that’s because she seldom watches it with me.

I tape all the games with my DVR and fast forward through the parts where no one is running. I can watch a three-hour game in 20 minutes. Yes, I know the game clock runs for about an hour, but a lot of that time is spent in the huddle or getting up off the ground. I don’t care to watch stuff like that.

Watching the games in fast-fast motion wasn’t doing it for Jill, so I tried something else. I thought I’d create some competition between us. Hayters love to compete. I hit the guide button on the remote and looked for games in progress. I was looking for teams that were unfamiliar to me. Found one right off the bat. Cornell was playing Bucknell. I don’t know why. But, more of a mystery was why did a network exec think that the game should be nationally televised?

I told Jill the school names and told her that we were both to guess the school colors of each team. Doesn’t that sound exciting? I said, doesn’t—Thanks, again, Brenda. Jill guessed that Cornell’s colors were blue and yellow. I was freaked, ‘cause I guessed the same thing. We’re not even twins.

Jill guessed that Bucknell’s colors were brown. When I told her that she only came up with one color, she said that’s all Bucknell has. She was really taking a gamble on this one. I guessed red and black. Had a vision.

So, I then turned to the game. You could’ve knocked me over with an I-beam. Cornell’s colors are red and white. We weren’t even close. Bucknell has more than one color and it sure isn’t brown. They’re navy blue and orange. All the good colors were taken.

I intended for us to also guess the mascots and the location of each college, but Jill just wasn’t into it. I can tell stuff like that. We watched the game for only a few minutes, because it wasn’t taped. The stadium was small and the crowd was no bigger than what you’d expect to turn out for a game between The Woodlands and Conroe. A decent crowd for a high school game, but surely not for college.

After a minute or two, I turned the TV off and we talked. I don’t think I cheered her up much at all. -- “I’m okay, Moke.” -- Jill calls me Moke. I asked her if it had anything to do with Lynda? Our big sister passed away with Alzheimer’s a few years ago almost to the day. Jill said it had nothing to do with that, but thanked me for bringing it to her attention. I ended up giving myself the glums. Jill helped, though.

To tell the truth, that’s really why I climbed up here tonight. Wanted to see if the night sky would perk me up. And, the first thing I do is start singing one of the saddest songs around. “Memory.” You know the part of the song I was coming to? It’s “I remember the time I knew what happiness was…”

And, I do. Thing is, we could never know happiness unless we experienced the down moments. Might say that the glums are a gift. I didn’t mention that to Jill, because I just now thought of it. That’s the beauty of coming to the rooftop.

On that note, I will now finish the “Memory” song for you. -- Hey, wait! No running on the roof! -- Well, that’s just rude.

“Touch me, it’s so easy to leave me, all alone with…“

END

To catch Mark and Brad’s Vietnamese restaurant review, go to YouTube and type in Mark Hayter Van Thong. - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcTTLtxPelI

“Venting at an oil change”

Doesn’t it feel good after you get your oil changed? There is a sense that your car feels better and is happy and is eager to go. I like my car to feel that way.

Of course, most of the sense of joy comes from the realization that I won’t have to do that again for a few months. I hate to take care of car stuff. Unfortunately, somebody’s got to do it. Car maintenance didn’t make it onto Kay’s job description. I got all the car stuff. She got ironing clothes and sewing on buttons. Fair tradeoff? I don’t think so.

I used to change the oil myself, but now I let the dealership do it. I’ve mentioned to you that one of my ex-students is a service rep at the dealership. One honest kid, that Troy. He’s even talked me out of doing stuff to the car. “It’s still got a couple years wear, Mr. Hayter.” If the guy told me I needed to change my dweetbottle gage, I’d do it. It’s so nice to trust your service department.

When I have the car serviced, I always bring a book along to read. This time I brought a book written by Robert Parker, one of my favorite Western writers. The book is about Wyatt Earp. I didn’t realize that when I picked it up at the used bookstore. I like Wyatt Earp. He’s like a friend of mine. But enough is enough. There are millions of characters in print I’ve yet to read about. I need to quit Earp.

So, I closed the book, picked up my assigned service beeper and went to look at the new cars in the showroom. If you carry a service beeper with you onto the showroom floor, most salesmen leave you alone. I held mine in front of my chest as I roamed the room.

While studying the window sticker of a Corolla I was a bit startled by a guy who crawled out of the front seat of one of those Toyota Jeep looking things. They call ‘em FJ Cruisers. Probably stands for something.

I was tempted to say something cute like, “That’s one quiet vehicle. I barely heard you drive up.” But the guy looked almost sophisticated. He was a little older than me and looked a whole lot wiser. Some people just carry themselves that way.

I ended up saying, “Looks like a formidable vehicle.” He smiled back. He knew someone who owned an FJ. The only thing bad he had to say about it was the gas mileage. Something to do with it being a heavy, four-wheel drive vehicle.

At this point I was ready to walk over and inspect the Camry, but the gentleman took the conversation up a notch. We were both killing time, so what the hey.

He started discussing fuel efficiency. He doesn’t think electric cars are the answer to the Country’s fuel problems. Not enough power. And, not enough electrical power plants to keep the things recharged.

No, we need to start taking advantage of natural gas. We’ve got more of the stuff in Alaska than we know what to do with. We keep pumping it out and then pumping it back in. I had no idea what that meant, but I smiled like I did.

And it’s safe, too. Not many people realize that when natural gas is liquefied it’s one of the safest of all fuels. You’ve gotta get it real cold to keep it liquid. Once you get it there, it’s safe as can be.

I was gonna let that go, but I just had to mention that most things are safe when they’re cold and contained. It’s when they have a leak that all heck breaks loose. The man didn’t argue or take a swing at me. He just nodded and said, “Yes, that’s true.” I like it when people don’t get mad when I question something.

After that he moved the conversation on to The Economy. The man recently sold a business that employed thousands of workers. He obviously knew about the workings of The Economy. Concerning the nation’s financial situation, he said that Ronald Reagan was our last great President.

When I’m standing in a car dealership in Conroe, I’m not stupid enough to question the greatness of Ronald Reagan. “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

Truth is, every president we ever had was responsible for some good stuff happening as well as some bad stuff. And, each had good stuff happen IN SPITE of his efforts as well as bad stuff.

I didn’t say any of that to the man. I just thought it. The man went on to say that the problem with this country is that there are no term limits. Nobody should serve more than two terms. And, we need to elect people who have no political experience. We don’t need politicians making our political decisions for us. He put it in smarter sounding words, but that’s what it meant.

While I was smiling, I was thinking “Elect people with no knowledge of politics to run a political institution. And, get ‘em out of office quick so they don’t have time to really mess things up.” Ingenious? Or lunacy? There’s a fine line sometimes.

The man then said that—“Excuse me, sir, but we need to talk.” That’s what the service manager said to the guy before he could say what he was gonna say. Completely ended the discourse.

But, the man was polite as could be. He smiled and thanked me for the discussion (the listen) and then walked off with the manager.

During the visit, I heard no easy answers to anything. And, I shared few thoughts of my own. The only thing I accomplished was letting someone vent. I’ve found that if you can do that, you’ve pretty well done all you can do.

Everyone just needs to vent. It won’t change the economic, political or ecological landscape, but it’ll make you feel good. Make you think that at least one person has the answers. That’s a great feeling.

Me? All it takes is an oil change. Life is good when I get that thing behind me.


END

To view Brad and Mark’s latest restaurant review, click on the photo of the two goobers.

Love that fall

October 3, 2010

“How about a topic change?”

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I like fall. Oh, I don’t go around blabbing about it, but if you asked which season I liked best I’d hafta say that I’m a fan of the autumnal. I like to say it, too. “ Fan of the autumnal.” Cool.

If I felt better, I’d be sitting in my canvas lawn chair, atop the roof, looking down on the beginning of fall. Of course, the entire world isn’t experiencing fall right now. You understand that, don’t you? Down south they’re springing forward. I’m not crazy about spring. Especially spring in Papua New Guinea. That’s another one of those words that is fun to say. Papua. I don’t care to go there, but I like to say it.

Truth is, I don’t care to go anywhere right now. I don’t feel well. Did I not say that earlier? If you wanna know why, you’ll need to flip your hamster to the side and pull out last week’s article. Buckles won’t care. He only reads the headlines. Those face-up.

If you find the article, you will see that last week I mentioned kidney stones. That’s what’s keeping me down on the ground at the moment. I had the stones crushed last week, but I don’t think they were crushed enough. You could resurface a logging road with some of the stuff I’ve been passing. Puts me in a bad mood.

I didn’t feel real bad when I left the hospital. The nurse asked how much pain I was experiencing, from one to ten. I hate that question. Pain is so relative. Compared to a thumb under a sledgehammer, I was a one. I told her three. I thought it more of a five, but didn’t want her to think I was a wimp.

That’s the problem with giving a number for pain. If you were in the hospital waiting for a pain pill, you’d tell anybody who asked that you were a 10. But, nurses expect you to exaggerate pain, so it means little to them. That punishes the honest among us. -- “Oh, I’m in agony here, so I’d say I’m a eight.” If you say something like that to a nurse, you’re not getting a pill till two hours after the Jello crawls off. No, we’re conditioned to lie about pain.

Right now, I really am a three. I have nothing to lie about. I’m not in pain as much as I’m uncomfortable. Can’t sit still. One discomfort is the sense that I have to, uh… make water. That’s what Morgan Freeman called it in “Driving Miss Daisy.” For some reason kidney stones make you feel as if you always have to go to the restroom, only you don’t. Well, not a lot.

You wanna know what’s weird? I’m gonna tell you anyway. The doctor actually gave me a pill to make me feel less like I have to go to the restroom. Hey, I can’t make this stuff up! Some scientist somewhere – I’m thinking in Wisconsin – decided to spend his life finding a drug that would make people feel like they don’t need to go when they actually might.

Does the pill work? I don’t know. I’m too scared to find out. There’s just something wrong about tricking your body into thinking it doesn’t have to go to the restroom. Just is.

Right now I need somebody to change the subject. In fact, I wish you had done it a couple of minutes ago. I never wanted to talk about kidney stones, but you kept dragging me back in. So, stop it. I started out talking about fall, and that’s where we’re returning. Oh, yes we are.

Fall. Autumn. Autumnal time. I like it. Why you ask? Well for one thing, I like the feel of it. It can be hot as everything, but you can tell there’s some weird sensation lurking around, making you less miserable. Maybe even making you a tad hopeful.

For me, part of the hope comes from the realization that football is here, basketball is gone and baseball will eventually end. It just has to.

Okay, who mentioned lawn mowing? I thought I heard one of you. Well, mowing is another reason to favor fall. My yard has about two more mows in it before I put the mower into hibernation. The contraption has been anticipating hibernation since late July. That’s when it started making a whining sound after the first couple of pulls. Maybe it was me.

Oh, and don’t forget the leaves. They’ll all be turning brown and letting loose some time in late January. Up north the trees actually turn colors before they drop. A few of you may remember that Kay and I took a trip to New England last year about this time to see the fall foliage. Well, one of you remembers. Kay and I visited New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine.

And, you wanna know something? All three of those states want us back. Mostly New Hampshire -- pronounced New Hampshuh. We get about three e-mails a day from businesses in the Granite State. I get five from Dardon Ann, but she just sends stupid stuff. These New Hampshire people are sending neat pretty stuff meant to encourage us to retrip.

That’s not happening. Been my experience return trips are disappointments. Kay and I went to Epcot a bunch of years back. Had a great time. We returned 10 years later, and were really disappointed. The shock and awe was gone. There’s something to say for shock and awe. The good kind. Hard to win back that first time feeling.

Of course, right now, it’d be hard to win any kind of good feeling back for me. Just don’t feel well. I’m beginning to feel like a four. Yep, there it is. I’m now a four. I’ve got the discomfort working for me with a hint of pain. Maybe a 4.2. – Tell you what, next time let’s talk about something else. In fact, if I bring up kidney stones, one of you has to change the subject. I don’t care who. Whom. Just do it. Do it! – I’m sorry, I get a little testy when I’m a four.

END
To watch Brad and Mark’s latest restaurant review go to YouTube and type in Mark Hayter Grotto. You can contact Mark at mark@fromtherooftop.net

I'm so much better now

“The Incredible Hunk”

By the time you read this, three things are going to be true that aren’t true now… assuming I don’t eat one of those poisonous porcupine fish or swim in a lava lake or fall backwards off the jungle gym. I like to allow for the implausible. Too few people do that.

The first of the three things has to do with teeth. Not yours. I only marginally care about your teeth. – Oops. Change “only marginally” to “don’t.” – Hey, I’m funnin’ with you. I love what you’ve done with your teeth. But, let’s get back to mine.

I’m gonna get a bridge replaced and a cracked molar fixed. Oh, and I’m getting my teeth cleaned. I’m not sure all of that has been done in one day. The dentist and Mark are gonna be really close for the first half of the day. I’ll probably hafta take him out to lunch. Some soup place.

I’ve got the best dentist in the world. I’d tell you Dr. English’s name, but I’d just as soon he not get any more business. The guy needs time for me. You can’t overestimate the importance of your teeth. Well, I suppose you could. If you were a science fiction writer or something, you might.

The reason I’m having a rebridge and cracked tooth fixed is because I grind my teeth. Mostly at night. I don’t notice it all that much during the day. I wiggle my foot a lot during the day, but I don’t think my teeth are doing anything extra.

My dentist made me a mouth guard to prevent me from ruining my teeth at night. I guess it helps. If I forget to wear it, I’ll occasionally bite my tongue in the middle of the night. If you think waking up to an alarm clock is disturbing, try biting your tongue. Well, that’s improbable isn’t it? If you’re trying to bite your tongue, you’re likely not asleep, so why wake yourself? No, your teeth have got to covertly lure your tongue into a sense of calm before they can bite it. My teeth are real tricksters. My tongue? Just as gullible as it can be.

An early picture of me grinding my teeth.

My new bridge is supposed to be metal. My last one wasn’t. I chewed the daylights out of it. This metal bridge will take a hit. Or a grind. I doubt I’ll go back to eating corn nuts, but it’s enough to know that I could.

The day after my teeth job, I’m having my kidney stones crushed. I’ve got two of ‘em. The one in my right kidney is the size of a small pony. The one in my left is more like a golf ball. A prickly golf ball. They use ‘em in Australia.

This is a photo of the stone in my right kidney.

I’ve had the two stones for over a year. My stone doc has been keeping an eye on ‘em. His left one. They haven’t been hurting me till recently. I suppose it’s because they’re too big to try to escape. It’s the escape that’ll get you every time.

The stone in the left kidney.

I really don’t know what the stones are up to, but they’ve definitely changed their routine. The pony stone keeps kicking my side and messing with my lower back. The golf ball just gives me a quick punch.

The only good thing good about ‘em is the exercise. I can’t. If I start stooping, squatting, raising up and laying back down, those stones are gonna try to make a run for it. I can’t let ‘em try. There’s no room. Are you reading me here? They can’t get out!

I’m sorry. Stones really alter my mood. I don’t know why that is. Your kidneys do something with your brain. Take my word. Just wish I could get the stones near my new metal bridge… when I get it.

I guess, there’s no need, ‘cause the stones should be shattered in a couple of days. That’s when they get lithotripsied. Lithotripsy involves shooting sound waves at your kidney stones. You’re lying on a waterbed kind of contraption while sound waves hammer at you. They don’t mess up anything but the stones. The sound waves can crush stone, but they won’t mess with body tissue.

Do you believe that? I’m about as gullible as my tongue, but I’m having trouble swallowing that. For one thing, I don’t believe it is sound waves that they’re shooting at your kidneys. You scratch this thing and you’re gonna uncover gamma rays. Undiluted, massively amplified gamma rays. The kind that are liable to make me grow out of my shirt, but not my pants, and turn me into the Incredible Hunk. Of course, I’ll hafta get mad before the change hits. Or excited. Maybe both. I don’t remember the last time I got excited. Mad, not so hard for me.

Finally, after the teeth are fixed and the stones shattered I have my yearly physical. All three of these appointments just fell in the same week. Dr. Strickland, my family doctor, is another super nice guy and just as smart as can be. He knows all about me, and still doesn’t mind fixing me up.

I suppose my kidney stone doc is nice too, but I just have trouble feeling an affinity for a guy who has done to me what he has. If anyone even snaps a rubber band around me I immediately cry and assume the fetal position.

While I dread the yearly physical, it shouldn’t be all that bad. I just hate the weighing part. Last year Doc S told me to exercise and lose some weight. I told him “Sure thing!” Hey, I wasn’t gonna see him for another year. Figured I might eat porcupine fish between then and now. If not I’d diet and exercise a couple of weeks before the physical.

The last few weeks I have been cutting down on my food intake. I would exercise, but— Do you remember why I can’t exercise? Just seeing if you were paying attention. No, Dr. S is gonna see the same ol’ Mark. A bit over weight and very much unfit.

He doesn’t try to shame me, though, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes. I almost wish the stone in my right kidney was as big as it feels. If, after the lithotripsy I lose the weight of a small pony, I’ll get a great report. – “Mark, you’ve got to get some nourishment. Chocolate! More, chocolate! And, no more exercise. It’s killin’ you!”

That’s always been a dream of mine. Probably why I bite my tongue while I’m sleeping.

end

To see Brad and Mark’s review of The Toasted Yolk, click below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi9J8P0GhdM

Clooney and Rizolli vents

September 21, 2010 “A couple of vents”

I seldom get upset about anything. Have you noticed that? Well you need to notice. But, don’t notice now, because I recently got ticked off at a movie and a TV show. Not ticked off enough to boycott anything. Just enough to vent.

Kay’s already heard my ventage and it didn’t faze her. She didn’t even care. But, you care. Well, you can pretend, can’t you? Cool.

The first vent has to do with the movie Kay and I went to see on Labor Day. It was a packed theatre so there’s a good chance some of you were there. The movie had love, violence and George Clooney. Oh, and popcorn.

But, George was what really got Kay to agree to go with me. Had I suggested a movie about a hitman, she would’ve balked. Kay is a great balker. If the preview has killing, slapping or biting, she doesn’t care to see the movie. She prefers not to watch people get hurt… even when they’re just acting hurt. I’ve watched a lot of good movies by myself.

But, like I say, Clooney was the big draw for Kay. She loves George Clooney. I have no big love interest, but I do like him. He’s a good actor with a great personality, a benevolent spirit and great looks. He’s the antithesis of, uh… somebody who’s the opposite of all that.

If George Clooney just looked at Kay and smiled, she’d dump me in a minute. She’ll probably tell you different, but don’t believe her. I’m a Clooney-smile away from being tossed. I can deal with that, ‘cause I can’t see her ever meeting the guy. Won’t let it happen.

From all this, you’ve likely gathered that Kay and I went to see “The American.” I could’ve said at the beginning, but I wanted to lay down some groundwork to show that we were both expecting good stuff.

The popcorn sure didn’t let me down. Fortunately for me, Kay is really cutting down on her popcorn consumption. She’s going from “just a little bit” to “not much at all.” I’m slimming down from a “whole lot” to “a lot.” To demonstrate my resolve I only bought the medium popcorn.

We were fortunate to find a couple of seats in the high-up section just before the lights dimmed. I hate to feel around on the people in the aisle seats when the lights go out. You’d think they’d expect it. They always seem so surprised.

The movie lasted for a little over a couple of hours. Seemed much longer. When the screen finally went to black and the credits started rolling, the theatre was quiet as a golf cart. I didn’t notice anyone even get up. We were all waiting for someone to say it.

I sure didn’t want to be the one, but someone had to step forward. After about eight seconds of stillness, a guy to my right said the words that allowed us all to leave. He said, “You’ve gotta be kiddin’!” After that, practically the entire audience laughed and left.

I don’t wanna say the movie was slow, but during the two or three naked scenes I didn’t even care. Barely noticed. (Well, that part’s a lie.) There was so little action in that movie, that I couldn’t even find a good time to eat my popcorn. When the movie started there was no sound coming from the speakers to muffle the sound of my hand in the popcorn bag and all the chomping. Oh, there was the occasional sound of a car engine, a guy walking, maybe a little wind in the distance. But nothing else. Through that entire movie I could’ve pointed in the direction of anyone in that theatre that had any popcorn left.

Let me just say this and I’ll move on to my other gripe. The thing about “The American” that was so bizarre to me was how anyone could take a lousy story set in a really boring town in Italy; come up with a character you know nothing about and learn even less about; give him absolutely no personality; come up with a really bad ending, and decide to make a movie out it. On top of that, get a great actor with a charming personality to play the boring lead. Was Jude Law unavailable?

That vent felt good. (Apologies to Jude Law. He was collateral damage.) Since I have little time for my second vent, let’s get to it. Kay and I watched a taped “Rizzoli and Isles” episode last night. I didn’t care for the series at first, but I’m beginning to like Rizzoli. Even her voice.

At the beginning of last night’s episode, a guy gets in his car at night and drives off. He hasn’t gone far when someone hiding in the backseat, raises up, stabs him in the neck with an ice pick, and then exits the car. In the next scene, it’s daylight and the car with the dead guy in it is blocking traffic for blocks. Maybe miles. The police are just standing around the car waiting to get a search warrant before they can examine the dead guy and move the car.

That one scene ruined the whole show for me. I kept griping about it to Kay, but she was no help. “Let it go, Sweetie,” she said. Let it go? There’s a car with it’s door open; a guy with an ice pick in his neck in the driver’s seat; traffic is blocked from Boston to Halifax and the police can’t touch anything without a warrant!

Was there no one in the film crew, no actor in the episode, no writer, director or producer who didn’t realize that police don’t need a warrant to inspect a guy with an ice pick in his neck if he’s in the road, in a box, in a stagecoach, on a motor scooter, on horseback, in the back of a truck or a locked car… and especially in a car with an open door?

In Texas the guy wouldn’t even need to be dead. If he’s blocking traffic, they’ll drag him out through the broken window, haul his cuffed keester to jail and impound the car. Warrant my foot! Just ruined the whole episode for me.

But, I’m much better now. With your help, I think I’ve healed myself. Next time you hear from me, I’ll be singing a happy tune. Kay will see to that. She draws that George Clooney like a gun.

END

To see BradMeyer and Mark’s review of Landry’s click here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bB254jh7AR8

September 9, 2010

"Ask me something else"

I’d like to you to stand up if you’re able… oh, and if you’re in a place that allows you to stand. What? No, by all means, Malcolm, stay seated. Okay, forget it, everybody stay seated. I didn’t think that out well at all.

Tell you what, try this. Just sit back and go to the best thinking part of your brain. Mine’s in a thin area between the parietal and occipital lobes. Let’s not all go there. Barely enough room for me.

Okay, now close your eyes. Wait! Wsheeew, that was close. Only shut one of your eyes. I’d like you to close both of ‘em, but then you wouldn’t be able to read what you’re supposed to do next. You’d be walking around the rest of the week upset at me for making you blind. So, just shut one eye, please. Those of you with only one functional eye just sit there. Hey, I’d start this article over in a second, but I’ve already invested too much time.

All right, so, you’re all seated with one or none eyes closed, and you’re in a pretty smart part of your brain. Okay, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to pretend that you’re on stage and a few thousand people are waiting for your answer. Oh, and you’re on TV with a few million people watching... just not all on the same TV. About eight of you are wondering what that meant. You picked the wrong brain place.

You’ve got two minutes to answer the question. Are you ready? Here goes: "What is one big mistake you’ve made in your life, and what did you do to make it right." The clock is ticking. People are waiting. Don’t make a fool of yourself, but answer the question. Did I mention the clock is ticking?

Okay, that’s the end of the exercise. No, I don’t want to hear your answers. I just wanted to try to simulate the situation Miss Philippines found herself in at the Miss Universe Pageant a few weeks back. From what I’ve read she was the favorite going into the question/answer part of the pageant. Her answer supposedly gave the title to Miss Mexico. Miss Mexico got an easy sappy question.

I didn’t watch the pageant, but I read about it. Miss Philippines came off looking a bit smug, according to one article and a short news segment I saw. She said that she had made no major mistakes in her life that she regretted. Then she mentioned the love and confidence she receives from her family. I understand that somewhere in the distance a lone bugle could be heard playing Taps. Like I say, I didn’t watch it.

I think the question a very cruel thing to ask. I mean, one of the other contestants was asked what she thinks about airport scanners that can see through your clothes. Was it a good thing to do? Hey, I can dance all over and around that question. – But "What one big mistake have you made?" Uh, can I think awhile and get back to you? Maybe mail in my answer?

When I asked you the question, what did you immediately think of? Wait! No, again, don’t tell me. But, I will tell you what I thought of. I thought of one or two big mistakes I made in my life. Stuff I’d just like to keep between me and the few who know. And, as soon as those two big mistakes came into my head, I couldn’t think of anything else. Not while I’m pretending to be on stage with a bunch of people watching and waiting for me to say something sweet and noble.

In my simulation, I eventually told the pageant judge that I had made a bunch of mistakes, none of which I cared to share with him and all the other Nosy Nellies out there. Of course, I had nothing to lose, seeing as how I had scored so poorly in bathing suit portion of the contest. Tore ‘em up, though, in the talent part with my impersonation of Janis Joplin.

By the way, William Baldwin (One of Alec’s kid brothers) was the judge who asked the question. I like William Baldwin. Can I call him Bill? Bill is a good guy, he just has no business judging a Miss Universe contest. Who the Sam Hill picked him? I can hear the committee now, -- Catherine Deneuve? -- Nah. -- Halle Berry? -- Nah. --How ‘bout William Baldwin? -- That’s it! Get his agent on the phone!

It’s similar to me judging a contest for the best design of a lady’s shoe, or me refereeing a soccer game, or keeping score in a bowling tournament. Hey, I can go on and on here if I need to. Bottom line, William Baldwin? No pageant judge. -- By the way, William, (I know you’re reading this) there’s a chance someone just handed you the question, in which case I apologize. You only did what you had to do.)

While I feel badly for Miss Philippines, I’m pretty sure I’ll get over it. -- Wait a second. I’m over it. – Regardless, I think she got a pretty raw deal. The only hope I see for her is the possibility of her entering another contest. There are several. Along with the Miss Universe, she could try out for Miss World, Miss International and Miss Earth. I would think that Miss Universe would be the best, but Miss Earth is nothing to sneeze at. If you were a woman, wouldn’t be great to be able to say, "Hey, I’m the prettiest, the most talented and the best answerer of a nosy question on Earth."

That’d be cool. It’d even be cool for some guy to be able to date such a person. "Hey, I dated Miss Earth. She’s thinking of running for Miss Galaxy and then on to Universe."

Any guy who lives in the US has a pretty good chance of dating a pageant winner. We’ve got pageants for Miss Distinguished Young Woman, Miss Outstanding Teen, Miss Teen USA, Miss USA, Miss United States, Miss US of A, Miss United States Teen, Miss America, Mrs. America… and a bunch more.

In fact, I may have married a pageant winner and don’t know it. I’ll have to ask Kay when she gets home. I’d really like to know what question she got. – "What is the worst thing about you, and why haven’t you corrected it? – Williaaaaaam! I would’ve thrown my shoe at the guy. Thrown something.

END

To see the video of Brad and Mark’s Pie in the Sky restaurant review, click on photo.

Some homely Brits and first day of school horror story

MARK’S ARTICLE – September 6, 2010 “Subject changes”

Dennis called yesterday to ask me something. I’ve got three brothers, and not one of ‘em ever calls without a reason. “Just to check on me” is no reason. I’d be real upset about that, but I’m the same way. Women check on each other all the time, but not men. At least not Hayter men.

Coincidentally, what Dennis had to ask was in reference to women. (I haven’t used the word “coincidentally” in about eight years. It felt good. Coincidentally.) Where was I? Oh, women.

Dennis asked me about British women, to be exact. He had watched the “Inspector Lewis Mystery “on Masterpiece Theatre the night before and noticed something about the women on the program. You didn’t ask, but Inspector Lewis is my least favorite British detective. He’s just below Miss Marple. Miss Marple is smart, but weak as rain. Lewis is dumb and weak. He’s the least smart detective on Masterpiece. I still like to watch him, though. British mysteries are the best.

Where was— oh yeah, women. Dennis wanted to know why women on British TV are so ugly. He thought I ought to know. Dennis is loony sometimes. He said that all the women on Masterpiece theater either have bad teeth, a bad nose, protruding chin or no chin. Keep in mind these are Dennis’ words. His phone number is 555-261-6789.

I knew right off that Dennis was way off on his assumption. Only 85 percent of the women on Masterpiece are homely. And, they’re not representative of all British women. Probably. Of course, 90 percent of all British men are scary ugly. (Why is it easier for me to say bad things about men than women? It’s just not fair.) By the way, ME making fun of someone’s looks is beyond hypocritical. It’s hypocriolossical. I’ve used that word in Scrabble. It’s most convincing.

Personally, I think it’s good that Masterpiece Theater casts ugly actors. We seldom do that in the US of A. After an audition, if I don’t get a callback, I assume I didn’t look good enough for the part. You can’t assume that in Britain. The British gravitate toward the “plain.” Apparently they’re the best actors. (Don’t forget Dennis’ phone number.)

I told Dennis all of that. Even chastised him for being so mean to British women. I about had him in tears. Upset him so much that he changed the subject on me. The switch came so fast that it about twisted my neck.

Dennis said that his grandkids were real excited about the start of school. He said that J Bear and Maxie were all grins when they left the house. No transition, he just skipped right to school. All the brothers do that. Well, they don’t skip to school that often, but they do change the subject a lot. Fortunately, I’m more disciplined.

Dennis sounded proud of The Bear and Maxie. Me? Not so much. I think they’re weird. At no time in my entire life was I ever happy about the start of school. I started every school year kicking and screaming. Particularly when I was teaching. Ba dump dump.

There is something about the beginning of school that is scary as all get out. If you’re not scared, you don’t have a full grasp of the situation. My first day in the first grade was terrible. I’d never been to kindergarten or day care. I was an outsider when it came to organized education.

I remember being so relieved when I came home from school after my first day, that I sang the “Have Gun Will Travel” song. It was over! The next morning Mom woke me up and told me to get ready for school. I thought she’d lost her mind. “Mother, I went to school yesterday, remember?” I actually thought school was over for me after that one day. How stupid is that?

Me in the first grade

Mom didn’t have to spank me to get me to cry, ‘cause I was already crying. I wasn’t going. Turns out, I did. Unfortunately, since I figured I wouldn’t be returning to school for Day 2, I had paid no attention to where my classroom was. Dennis was in the fourth grade line, but he wouldn’t and couldn’t help me, so I just walked the halls until I found a classroom that looked okay.

After roll call, the teacher asked if there was anyone whose name she didn’t call. I didn’t raise my hand. It took her awhile to figure out I was the additional student. She took me straight to the principal’s office. Didn’t trust me to find the place on my own.

I’ve told that story more than a few times, ‘cause it really burned a hole in the confidence part of my brain. At the start of each school year, that moment resurfaces and I get that sick feeling about being out of step with the rest of the world.

That’s what always scared me about school. I just knew that the kids and teachers could tell that I was acting my rear off trying to appear normal. And, that behind my mask of mild assurance was the real me… a citizen of Loserland. Population: Mark.

I told Dennis that story right after he told me about his grandkids. Oh, I didn’t tell him about the “mask of mild assurance” thing. That’s too weird for brother-talk. No, I just reminded him about how I thought school was over after the first day. And, about how he couldn’t get out of line to help me find my classroom that second day.

Dennis didn’t remember any of that. I must’ve been a pretty good actor to get my big brother… my best friend to think I had it all together. It’s hard when you’re young.

So Dennis’ grandkids were all excited about the start of school. Sheesh. Was sorry that Dennis let me in on that little gem. As bad as the ugly British women topic was, I was sorry he changed the subject. The brothers do that a lot.

END
To see the latest Brad and Mark restaurant review click here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn_l4Bjb1S4.