Welcome To This Groove You Can Move Right

Getting older is a hard thing to accept. Granted, 32 isn't exactly one foot in the grave but I'm doing my best to keep middle age at bay. Last week I went to a concert. Those of you who have the privilege to know me are aware that 311 is my favorite band. Most people have a band they follow and know everything about. Many choose established icons like the Beatles and Aerosmith and then you have the music snobs that follow obscure indie bands that normal people never have and never will (in most cases for good reason) hear about. I'm sorry, I just don't get the Arcade Fire. I tried. I take comfort in the fact that since they won a Grammy, they will most likely fade back into obscurity so that magnet school kids can like them again.

311 is a band that is kind of a leftover from the 90's that is still putting out new music but is more or less past their prime. They were part of what the mainstream refers to as the rap/rock phase of the 90's. I know they're much more than that but suffice it to say, its hard to listen to 40 year olds in 2011 rapping about "wearin my doc maartens cuz I'm always down for kickin." Actually, not its not because these guys spoke to me in 1995 and they speak to me now. Don't judge me. I have bootleg albums and bootleg videos of these guys. I even follow them on Twitter and try to come up with unique/witty things to tweet to them so that they will tweet back to @crnoland (I have been successful by the way).

311 was my first concert ever back in December '97. Incubus and Sugar Ray opened and then I had my mind blown by the aural assault of reggae skanking, heavy metal shredding, funkdifying slapping dancehall music. They set the bar pretty high that night at the Centroplex in Baton Rouge and I still haven't forgotten that feeling.

Cut to March 1, 2011. 311 is in Charleston and I have my ticket. I also had a lot of alcohol. Keep in mind this is a Tuesday night and I've just gotten off work and been released to downtown Charleston. I hit NO LESS than three bars, uncountable beers, one Jack and Diet Coke (my best friend Andy says I shouldn't do that because it's called a skinny bitch and the bartender will remember me and snicker but I don't care because those are un-needed and un-wanted calories and if I can cut them I'm going to cut them) and a kamikaze shot. Then it was on to the show. My seat was in the balcony which I was kind of bummed about until I got up there because I was right on top of the stage. These seats weren't far away at all. I got a spot along the rail and watched as they jammed out to Welcome for the opener. I was beside myself. Most of that is the fact that I was watching my favorite band but part of it was definitely the alcohol. I kept grabbing random people and pulling them to the rail to share this moment with me. That was probably a mistake because I think I heard the word Creepy thrown around several times. I probably needed to find a new spot

How fortuitous that I would receive a text from my friend Kim at that very moment who was at the show with a guy. She was down close to the front and told me to come down by them. I figured I'd get turned away but darn if the ushers just decided to call it a night early because I walked right up to the front. So there's me, Kim, this dude she's with and a bunch of strangers. You know what I'm doing? I'm headbanging. More on this later. During one of their rockers, the band starts jumping up and down on stage with the beat. Of course I need to be doing that as a sign of solidarity with these guys. In my inebriated state, I forgot this is a theater and therefore has a fairly steep grade. When I jumped, I did not land on my feet. I landed on what my dad refers to as my better half. Kim and the dude thought it was funny. I however thought it was awesome and immediately jumped up and grabbed the stranger on the other side of me and the following exchange took place: me- DID YOU SEE WHAT I JUST DID? WAS THAT NOT SO AWESOME HOW I JUMPED AND THEN FELL? IS THIS NOT THE MOST SWEETEST BAND OF ALL TIME? Apparently, this guy was in the same state as me because he responded thusly, "DUDE". Then he started laughing and he tried to jump. Almost the exact same thing occurred. I made a friend.

They finally finished the show and I was stoked. Ultimately I said bye to Kim and the dude and I made it home (I was sober by this time). It was fairly late and I didn't want to wake Kristen up so I went to the guest room. OD and I had a nice night spooning. I woke up feeling just a bit wretched and went to work. Throughout the day, I started feeling pretty stiff. That night, I was in agonizing pain. What on earth had I done? I couldn't turn my head at all. Then I was shocked to realize all of the headbanging I'd done caused this. Out of all of the concerts I've seen, I've never managed to do this to myself. I don't know if its the fact that I was so excited this time around or the fact that 32 year olds aren't meant to mercilessly nod their heads. Probably both. Regardless, this was indeed the best concert experience I've ever had. I know you'll think I'm crazy but this beat Counting Crows and U2 which were my two favorites prior to this. To each his own though right? Stay Positive and Love Your Life --Nick Hexum

Blades of Glory

In an ideal world, I would get my haircut by a man named Fred who wears a white coat and owns a barber shop with a bonafide barber's pole outside the door. I would sit in a real barber's chair with a big blue cushion and a chrome foot pedal that I can flip around with my feet. There would be a leather strop hanging off the back of the chair so Fred can polish his straight razor before he gives me a hot shave after giving me 'the usual.' I grew up in the south so there would most likely be several heads o'deer hanging on the walls above the row of chairs you wait your turn in while reading the latest Sports Illustrated or Outdoor. If you're like me, you probably migrate to the Highlights magazine. I checked and the hidden picture puzzle is still on page 19 even 25 years after the first time I found the broomstick hidden in the bannister. Fred would ask me how my wife is and how work was going. I'd mumble that they're doing fine while covertly listening to the conversations going on either side of me because they are much more interesting. Afterwards, I'd pay my ten bucks, tell Fred I'd see him next time and be on my way. However, my world isn't completely idealistic. Those places don't exist in too many places and the ones that do cost a lot more than ten bucks. Besides, as has been pointed out many times by many people, I have thin hair. If I had an extra mirror, I could cut my own hair with the clippers I share with Jeffrey the pomeranian. So instead of Fred, I recently paid a visit to Great Clips and had the opportunity to have my hair great clipped by Kayla.

Did you know that all 'stylists' at Great Clips are trained by the same crack team of corporate stylist consultants from the Great Clips headquarters. I had no idea. But you know what? Kayla was there to educate me on the finer points of a Great Clips haircut. I got a complete history of this corporal styling chain. Not only that, but Kayla would take notes about what they did to my hair and enter it into their computer so that I wouldn't have to remember what they did the next time I came in. Talk about your clever marketing ploy. I don't have to remember two on the sides and three on top ever again. Kayla hooked me up. You'd think that I was already hooked on this place. No, I needed a little something extra, a little lagniappe if you will. Kayla came through like the master follicle manipulator she is. She gave me a FREE promotional chap stick. DONE. I've already been back and can't wait to go for a third time. I don't need Fred and his archaic strops and blades. I've got corporate trained stylists and chap stick. Beat that with a stick.

Where to Begin

Well it seems that I took a less than brief hiatus since I last put any thoughts down. So much has happened since November that one entry cannot convey the gravitas of my eventful life. Ideally I'll have a few notes up this week to explain what I, Chris Noland, have been up to.

The proper place for me to jump into this, I think, is the old homestead. Like James Van Der Beek before me, it was time to leave the Creek. Unlike Van Der Beek, who had to say good bye to Katie Holmes, and Michelle Williams, and his hot mom, I only had to say so long to my landlords who never fixed our garage door and the lady with the cigarette breath and VERY large leg tattoo that cut my hair. I think her name was Dwayne.

Kristen and I bought a home in Mt. Pleasant. We moved in at the end of November and we couldn't be more pleased. Our neighborhood sits on a highway that goes straight to Monck's Corner where Kristen's vet practice is located and I'm just a short drive from downtown Charleston. After a year of living in limbo, it's nice to have a place to put roots down and call something ours. We bought a two story home and Jeffrey and OD both get a kick out of running up and down the stairs. At the top of the stairs, a balcony looks out over the living room. Every now and again, Kristen and I will be watching TV and we'll hear a whine. We look up and there's Jeffrey sticking his lion mane through the balcony looking down at us. Kristen usually freaks out and sprints up the stairs to grab him but I keep watching because if he falls, I'm pretty sure he could get at least six inches of air on the rebound. I don't want to miss that. Granted, I'd be inconsolable after the fact, but I'd be proudly inconsolable.

We have a fireplace now and it's nice to have a fire burning every night. One of our favorite parts about the new house though, is the fact that we're out of town enough that when you walk out on the back porch and look up, you feel like you can see every star in the sky. We're both excited about spring and summer so we can spend hours out there looking up. Kristen probably says that because she wants to make out with me and be romantic. I say that because just once in my freaking life, I want to say I actually found the Little Dipper. I'm probably going to get in trouble for typing that.

Living in Mt. Pleasant brings with it a small amount of scorn. Apparently the town has a local aura of snobbery. The only rebuttal I have to that is thus: If living in a town with great restaurants, great schools (threw that in for mom so she'll think we're at least thinking of having kids and therefore won't ever bring it up), cultural events, great shopping, low crime, Raising Cane's, it's own Cupcake store, and extremely close proximity to the beach, then color me snobby. I'll wear that badge with pride as I drive the five minutes to the beach to go surfing.

We really feel like we made the right decision by moving out here last year. We struggled with that for a long time for the first few months we were here because we were having a hard time finding a happy place. Now, when I smell the salt on the breeze and hear the rustle of the palmettos or when I'm walking downtown on the warm cobblestones, I feel like I'm home.

That's Right, Cuz It's My Birthday, My Buh-Buh-Buh Birthday

On this night 32 years ago, I made the trip through the hoo-ha and graced this world with my presence. Today is/was my birthday and it was pretty freakin sweet. The day started off when Kristen walked into the guest room to wake me up. I slept in there last night because Jeffrey keeps wetting the damn bed and I don't like waking up to wet feet. So I kicked OD out of his bed and slept there instead. He was relegated to the love seat. Kristen made me bacon and biscuits which rocked my world. Normally I eat like a banana or something so this was completely and totally sweet. So I'm totally full but its cool because its my freaking birthday. Also, my birthday falls on Veteran's Day. You know what that means? Hell yes, no traffic on the commute. Rock on to federal employees for being off work.

So I drove into work in record time which is always most excellent. I walked into the office and what doth appear before my eyes in front of my office door? A bunch of freaking sweet balloons. One of which happened to be in the shape of a dinosaur. Seriously, who doesn't like dinosaurs? Well color me excited because we named him Rufus and he became my own personal secretary for the day. Chrisgina (from the last blog) got me the balloons and then she also got me a dozen donuts. I love donuts. I especially love donuts when the only reason I get them is because I turn 32. Could this day get any better? OF COURSE IT COULD. At approximately 8:35, one of my student workers who we'll call Cake walked in with a gigantic basket of absolute garbage. We had brownies and chocolate covered pretzels, and chocolate chip cookies, and M&M's. My lovely wife sent that along. EPIC. What else could possibly go right? I know, one of our senior fellows, Writtainy, brought me a Diet Coke and a king sized Twix bar. Sweet Jesus this is going to be a heck of a day.

I must point out that I found it necessary to have a South Park soundboard on my computer screen at all times so that I could immediately pull the following out whenever I told someone to do something and they asked me why they should: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25HYETWejlI I'm immature and a child of the 90's so just roll with it and love me for who I am.

At lunch, me and another friend who I'll call Mohendra, met for pizza at Andolinni's down the street from our office. She got me a fun writing utensil for my office which was awesome. More importantly, she got me two king sized Reese's Peanut Butter Cup candy bars. I had eight peanut butter cups to work with here. Let's recap my food intake to this point shall we? Two bacon biscuits, a donut and a half, four twix bars, a gigantor slice of pizza and a crap load of Reese's. I haven't had this much sugar since 1992. I didn't have the wherewithal to open the candy basket at this point. What did I have? The energy and mental capacity of one Cornholio from the old Beavis and Butthead days. So of course I found a Cornholio soundboard full of his quotable quotes and played them on full blast. I need tp for MY bunghole mother effer.

I came back from lunch to find my office completely decorated with Happy Birthday signs and ribbons and such. Apparently Rufus participated in my sugar coma and passed out on guard duty. It turns out that someone we'll name Lara was the culprit in this one. She came and admitted as much to me later. I thought it was fun and games until she asked to borrow a red Sharpie and then pretended to color in my bald spot while I was sitting at my computer. Well played Lara, well played.

So we get towards the end of the day and all I want to do is go out for a couple of drinks before I meet Kristen and some friends for dinner. Everyone sold me down the river except for the new Chris Noland drinking buddy core. Me, Chrisgina, Feather and Yimmy headed to Kingstreet Grill for beers. Yimmy and I had Guinness because we are manly men. Chrisgina had some bottle whose name I forget but I'm pretty sure she took a swing at my head with it at some point. Feather drank wine. Feather was lame (that's actually a lie, she's more or less one of the coolest people I know).

We had a great time until I realized that surely I would have heard from Kristen since it was after 6:30pm. I had no service on my phone so I went outside and rebooted the old Iphone. It came back up with six text messages, three voicemails and (I'm not kidding) 48 emails. AT&T really sucks out here in the holy city. Kristen was on her way and we were meeting friends at the Blind Tiger. I asked Feather if I could walk there or if I should drive since she was a bit more acquainted with the city. Feather said it would be no problem for me to walk. Feather was wrong. I was expecting to walk a couple of blocks. Turns out it was two miles (in drinking terms but in actuality about a quarter of a mile but whatever). I started booking it.

Kristen and I met up with our friends Maggie and Richard for dinner and drinks. I haven't seen Richard in a couple of months because he's trying to be all corporate and get an MBA. I was shocked because he's gone through a transformation in the last two months and somehow now looks exactly like Josh Groban. He should probably be on Glee. We had a blast at dinner and I'm glad we got to hang out with them. I was somewhat shmammered so I picked up the tab on my own birthday. It's how I roll which basically is another word for awesome (and by word I mean phrase or something). Richard and I agreed that it was time for another man date. We haven't had one since we went and saw The Expendables. I think we've cooled off enough since then to have another one. Maybe we'll drink a bunch of beer at his house and watch a MacGruber marathon. MACGRUBER!!!

After dinner, I walked Kristen back to her car because I'm chivalrous and it was on the way to mine. We drove back to our humble abode. The most important part of the day had yet to come. I HAD TO KNOW, how many people had wished me happy birthday on Facebook. I was overwhelmed at how many of my friends and pseudo friends thought of me when they saw my name pop up on their daily Facebook birthday list. Thanks guys. It actually was really cool to see and Deanne Arnold even said she wished I'd write these blogs more often. Hopefully I can handle up on that because these are so much fun to write, even if I don't edit nearly enough.

Alright, OD is back in his bed and Jeffrey has already been out to pee so let's keep our fingers crossed for tonight (I also have mention that just as I type this, OD just let a huge one rip and it is freaking foul). This was a great birthday start to finish. Look out for next year because it will be 11-11-11 and I'll be 33. Watch out world.

Socially Networked

My bad. I probably had it coming. The running joke at the office is that I watch Glee. I play it off and tell everyone that I watch it with Kristen so that I'm allowed to watch football on Saturdays (turns out that's crap by the way). The little joke was also fairly contained to the people that work in my office. Unfortunately (for me), some of the people in my office include student workers, grad assistants, and recent graduates. What do all of these people have in common? Facebook.

I admit it, I joined Facebook in 2005 or so while I was working at Louisiana Tech. At the time, it was still relatively new and you had to have a college email address to secure an account. For the most part, it was a tool for me to keep in touch with student recruiters and members of our staff. Along the way, it started getting bigger and more complex and I started getting in touch with old classmates and fraternity brothers and such. And then all hell broke loose. Facebook exploded. All of the sudden, I'm getting friend requests from random people I might have said hey to passing them on the street. Regardless of the fact that I don't know them, they wanted to be friends with me. After all, everyone knows that the more Facebook friends you have, the higher your social status. That sounds benign enough until some of these people that I didn't know started getting pregnant. Why do some girls find it completely appropriate to describe bodily fluids and functions on a WALL that everyone can see, even people they only know on a very cursory level?

Then you get the people starving for attention and update their "status" accordingly: Skippy CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!!!! Oh heavens Skippy. Whatever could have happened to you? I probably better respond so that you will tell me and we can have a wall-to-wall conversation. Those people make me mad.

I know I need to get back on point here and I shouldn't point out every single Facebook cliche there is. There are plenty of email forwards for that. Let me just mention one more and thats the whole parent invasion of Facebook. God Bless my father for staying the hell away from this thing because he sees it for what it is: horse shit. My mother on the other hand is all over it. And I appreciate it because even when nobody else does, she thinks I'm witty. And she makes comments about that. Incessantly. If she moves to Farmville though, I just might have to cut ties.

So again, I've made the comment a couple of times around the office that I watch Glee. After one episode in particular, I had a Facebook chat with one of our counselors whom we'll call Frant in which I extolled the virtues of such a wonderful show. I don't think anything at all about this innocuous, two-lined conversation until I get an email informing me that I'd been tagged in a photo by someone that we'll refer to as Chrisgina. Seems that Frant took a screenshot of said conversation (I seriously had no idea that this was even remotely possible yet if I bring this up in the office, I'm told how old and bald I am and to shut my mouth) and posted it on yet another counselor's wall whom we'll name Kevan. Chrisgina saw it and tagged my name because, apparently it's a moral imperative that my forced enjoyment of musical tv should be shared by everyone on my "friends" list. Touche' Chrisgina, touche' indeed.

By the time I get to a computer and make my little discovery, I have no less than 85 comments about my sweet pic. Seventy of those are from my sister who's taking dictation from my dad (seriously, he refuses to touch the book). He just wanted me to know that Kimberly doesn't watch Glee and look at what a stellar athlete/student/career woman she turned out to be. I watch musical television and I live with a pomeranian and three legged cat. Unfortunately, I really didn't have a leg to stand on (no offense to the cat) and I couldn't argue with them. Then she called me a bitch. I asked her if dad told her to say that and she said nope, that was from her. Touche' to her as well.

I immediately removed the tag from the picture so I wouldn't be showing up on anyone else's updates. No more torture for me. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Frant, Chrisgina, and Kevan. I truly am looking forward to the days when they are back in the office. You see, I've had weeks to sit and stew and come up with creative ways to get my revenge. Should I be aggressive or passive aggressive? Why not both? This is going to be so much fun.

The time is getting close. I might have to delete the old Facebook account. Much like ICQ and AIM before it, it's run its course. I'm outgrowing it. Actually I outgrew it before I ever signed up but its time to let it go. And I have Glee to thank.

FU FB

Futility and Humility

I was SO PUMPED this weekend. Kristen was all like, yes sir you can watch football. I like to think it's because I was so excited since there were so many great games on. In reality I paid my dues by watching 17 episodes of Say Yes To The Dress with nine episodes coming from Kleinfeld's in New York and eight coming from the Atlanta store that employs the greatest fashion director EVER...Monte. Whatevs.

Anyway, I wanted to watch the Georgia-USC game at noon. Fellas I live in South Carolina now where USC means the University of South Carolina. Everywhere else in the world it means Southern Cal. However I'm not really into the whole brevity thing so I figured I'd indulge you and explain. Anywho, I had a dillema because I also had an appointment to take my car into the Honda place at noon. Whatever would I do? Never fear dudes because Honda has a big screen and it turns out that the overweight salesmen in short sleeves and ties AND customer service reps were really excited about the game also. They made sure the game was on instead of taking care of my car. In fact it took an hour and a half for them to tell me there was absolutely nothing wrong with my car. But I didn't care because I was being manly and watching football. Could this day get any better? ABSOLUTELY. They also had free hamburgers and hot dogs and unlimited fountain drinks.

Cut to two weeks later because I got lazy and stopped writing. Check it out though yo, I'm still excited about this weekend because there's so much football. I don't have to take my car into any lame ass car dealership though. I'm probably going to sit on the couch and watch the games with my new pomeranian puppy named Jeffrey. Kristen pretty much HAS to let me. Why? Duhh because I'm a full blown Gleek. Hell yes I watched that show. Not cuz I wanted to though. Again I was paying my dues. Unfortunately for me though, that show has an unwanted side-effect. Oh Lady Gaga, why do you haunt my inner monologues so? I've been singing Telephone to myself for three days. (Check this segue) But that's okay Lady G because this weekend I'm going to watch Boise State phone it in and unexpectedly get crushed by Oregon State. Talk about a Bad Romance. Word.

I'm probably going to be allowed watch another game or two because I ALSO took Kristen to see Jason Mraz last night. Don't ask, it went exactly as you would probably expect it to. The dude stood on stage and would make his band play while he ate cantaloupe and then talk about why he loves cantaloupe and how we shouldn't drink from plastic water bottles but should actually carry our own metal canteens of water like he does. Jason Mraz, you can take your wienered out fedora and punch yourself in your melon eating face. But you're a pretty sweet guitar player...and you can dance.

Question: What is sadder, the fact that my wife just spent $30 on Glee soundtrack music or the fact that I just put it on my ipod?

Hangin with Ursher and Luda

Kristen had her national AVMA conference in Atlanta a few weeks ago. We decided to turn it into a little mini vacation since we won't have the opportunity for a real trip this year. I was excited for three reasons (in addition to the fact that I got to spend three uninterrupted days with my wife): 1) I was born in Atlanta and haven't been back there since 1980. I don't know why that's exciting. 2) We got to see a Braves game which I've never gotten to do before. 3) I got to tell people that I was headed to the A-T-L. I'm a big fan of initials, acronyms, and shortcuts....almost as big a fan as using my area code for where I am. For example, I don't live in Charleston, South Carolina. I stay in the 843....but I come from the 318. But I digress. I digress a lot.

Kristen flew down on Friday morning and I'd drive down on Saturday. We both had Monday off so it would be a nice three-day weekend. Saturday night, the AVMA paid the band Train to be the evening's entertainment. They're popular because they have that omnipresent song "Hey Soul Sister." I didn't know they sang that. I thought it was some chick. Imagine my surprise when they busted that little ditty out. I'm all like hey its that effing song that I hate because it's on every third commercial that comes on TV. The concert actually wasn't bad. The lead singer has some serious pipes and probably could have sang in an 80's hair band. He also took his shirt off which made my wife really happy for some reason. I don't know why because I'm firing heavy artillery rounds every time I take mine off. YESSSSSS. The guitar player is also the spitting image of Howie Mandel which is weird for me. Seriously look him up.

Sunday we were really excited because we were going to Six Flags. I grew up going to Six Flags over Texas but I haven't been since I was a senior in high school. We couldn't wait to get on these roller coasters. Until some gimpy wooden thing called the Georgia Cyclone. That bitch took us to OZ man. That thing shook us so incredibly hard and we just wanted it to end. To make matters worse there were two little ten year olds riding in front of us that kept screaming like girls and laughing. Kristen wanted to skull drag them down the exit ramp but I told her not to because that's rude.

We needed a break so we rode the cable cars. While riding across the park, we spotted the Ninja and I forgot all about Oz. Why? Because ninja's are awesome and it had like six loops. I became the ten year old that was screaming like a girl and laughing. What I didn't count on was the seat in front of me being broken. On every turn, the back of the seat would pound into my knee making me say the f word like 45 times. That might seem like an inordinate amount of f words but that's just how many crazy turns and loops were on this ride. That's because it's a ninja. And ninja's are awesome.

We also rode Superman which kind of supersucked. I mean hey, I guess it's a novel idea to make a roller coaster that you ride on your stomach because it makes you feel like you're flying like Superman. Except you don't feel like that. You spend the ride sucking in your stomach because it keeps falling towards the ground while your head and your legs are strapped in and can't move. Then you twist and turn and get sick as hell but you can't throw up because you're wife is riding next to you and called you a puss seven different times throughout the course of the ride because you accidentally screamed like a girl and then farted on the first drop.

I say all this to illustrate that something happens to a man in the 10+ years between high school and his thirties. Rollercoasters become an exercise in demasculinization. Amusement parks cease being fun and you realize why your parents always looked so pissed off when they were walking you around as a kid. They can't ride the rides anymore, admission is $50, and ICEE's are $10. Crazy stuff.

We went to a Braves game Monday night and had a good time. We ate hot dogs and I had Dippin Dots for the first time which was odd/cool. The Mets aren't any good so the Braves won. We went back to the hotel and packed for the drive back to the 843 the next day. Overall it was a nice little get away but I think we're ready for a beach trip again. We're thinking Bermuda with some friends. B-E-R? I don't know, it doesn't really roll off the tongue. We'll figure something out though.