I Know, I Know…

Forgive me peeps, it’s been 13 days since my last blog post.

I was recently scolded by Anne, one of my peeps, that it’s been too long since my last blog post. She is currently addicted to my blog which may rivals her addiction the soft drink, TAB. 

I have nothing but excuses and here they are:

·         My computer contracted the “blue screen of death” and has gone on to the big CPU in the sky.

·         Subsequently, the computer I was using to write my blog was attacked by malware and has been wiped of all its programs. I’m thinking this isn’t a good omen.

·         Nothing worth noting, Bachelorette included, has happened to me. Shocking, I know.

·         Some things have happened, but no amount of “the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty” would disguise the circumstances. Not everybody can know. I know, elitist.

·         Since June 26^th, I have been homeless. I’ve been taken in by my kind friends, Tracy and Travis. Why this is an excuse? Well, it just is.

·         Not posting a blog for 13 days is my way of saying “Bueller? Bueller?”  Guess what? That worked. You like me. You really like me.

I pledge to thee, my peeps, that I will make a more concerted effort to put myself into more calamitous situations that would and could warrant more blog posts. Deal?

Epic Debacle of the Wizarding World Kind

Thursday night was the premiere of the final installment in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2. Allison, Kevin, Alex and I made plans to see the midnight showing. Now before I proceed any further with telling the tale of Thursday night’s events, I must say that the burden of this calamity lies squarely on the shoulders of Kevin.

The facts are these. I missed seeing the midnight showing of HP7, Part 1 because of a work thing, but the others charged on without me. They saw the movie at the swanky CineBistro which is a movie theater where you can pick your seat, have a fancy dinner and adult beverages. Kevin took issue with having to sit on the second row (probably because they waited until the last minute to purchase their tickets) and having to crane his neck back to see the screen.  It was because of this that Kevin was adamant about not returning to the CineBistro to see HP7, Part 2. Allison and I relented to Kevin which I hope he enjoyed because it will probably be the last time.

Instead, we made plans to see the movie at the Centro Ybor Muvico in Ybor City. We picked this location because, for the most part, no one ever goes to the movies there and the only people who frequent Ybor are people who live in the area or college types, especially hipsters. We figured hipsters may think they’re too cool for HP. We purchased our tickets online for the 12:02am showing and decided that we’d get a late dinner before the movie.

We arrived at Centro Ybor around 9:15pm and pull up to the valet. The valet attendant was the first to inform us that there was no electricity in the Muvico. A mild case of panic set in.

However, we decided that we’d wait it out because there was 3 hours to go before the movie and we were assured by a Muvico employee that Tampa Electric was already on the scene.

We ate dinner and then went back to the theater at 10:15pm to discover that the power was still out. We were reassured by Lisa, who had clearly drawn the short straw as she was the only employee out in front of the movie theater, that Tampa Electric was still working on it. It was then we made a poor choice. We left the theater and went downstairs for ice cream. Unbeknownst to us, there was a horde of people gathering above us where we could not see. From our spot inside the ice cream/coffee shop, it looked like a small peaceful mob was forming, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. At 10:45pm, we left the shop to discover the line in the movie wrapped around the courtyard of Centro Ybor, so to the back of the line we went and stood.  We tried our best to make light of our predicament.

At 11:45pm, the lights inside the Muvico finally came on which caused an eruption of cheers from the gathered crowd. It was 1:00am when we got into the theater and headed for our seats. Now what blows my mind is that people who had stood in line for as much as 4 hours went straight to the concession stand for popcorn and beverages, but not directly in a “Don’t pass GO. Don’t collect $200.” fashion to their seats. Didn’t they make the correlation that at this late hour the movie wouldn’t start before they were in their seats? Guess what? Didn’t. Meanwhile, it is getting later and later and people are getting more and more agitated.  

If you're putting 2 and 2 together, then you know what happens next. Those crackers lost their ever lovin’ minds. Allison and Kevin were the ones to get the best vantage point of the chaos. After sitting in our seats for a time, they went out to get some refreshments. They returned with tales of yelling and the imminent outbreak of fighting. Kevin commented that he wondered if this was anything like Katrina. I assured him that this was probably only like 1/32 of what Katrina was.

Another hour later, the lights in the theater finally dimmed and the previews started. Guess what? No sound. We held out hope that no sound would be limited to the previews, but again, we couldn’t have been more wrong. The movie started and there was still no sound. It was now 2:15am, so we decided to cut our losses and left the theater. Harry Potter was not getting in my brain that night. We were going to try to get refunds, but thought we’d be there for a while since everyone trying to get a refund felt the need to cuss a blue streak at the manager before taking the refund.

So, at 2:15am, we left Centro Ybor with no enjoyment of Harry Potter. Moral of the story kiddos, always overthrow the thoughts and opinions of Kevin.

25 Things about Me: #23

23. I have fallen asleep in my car a red light.

Fact: I have pulled what has been dubbed a David Boston.

David Boston was a player for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. During his tenure in Tampa, he was arrested for being found passed out in his Range Rover at a red light in St. Petersburg. The vehicle was running and in drive. Wow, right!

Upon hearing the story, Allison, Kevin, and I ran with it. Now when we’re at a red light and the person in front of us takes a little while to move, we yell, “Go David Boston!” It’s quite fun.

Now to how I actually pulled a David Boston: I’m not sure how I became asleep or how long I was out, but it happened. I was on my way home from work and I was out like a light. No one honked or yelled,  “Move it, David Boston!” Somehow, I came to and moved along. Crisis averted. No need to post a bond.

25 Things about Me: #12

12. I had my right hand ripped open by my cousin’s pit bull, Bud.

The events were these: My family was visiting my grandparents in Montgomery, Alabama for some random occasion. My two older cousins, Becky and Keli, were there and they had a pit bull named Bud that stayed at my grandparent’s house.

Becky, Keli, and Joe were out on the back porch playing with Bud and I was making myself useful by sweeping the dirt from the porch, when I notice Bud nipping at Becky’s hand. Well, I gave Bud a gentle swat on his hind in with the broom hoping that would make him stop. It did not, so I hit him a little harder. I know what you’re thinking, “Not a good idea, Grimes!” and you’re so right. The next thing I know that dog had his teeth clamped down on my right hand and we were playing tug of war with it. He was going one way and I was trying to pull my hand out of his mouth. I screamed bloody murder and Mother came running out after me. Bud finally let go of my hand and she scooped me up, put me in our van and we were headed with Daddy to the ER. 

Once there, they took me right in and put me on a table. The doctor proceeded to check out my hand to see that, even though the top of my hand was ripped open, everything inside was intact.  It was fine, but I was obviously going to need a few stitches. Getting stitches was going to require some novocain injected directly into my open wound and that’s exactly what they did. Yeah, it hurt, but it was hurt on top of hurt at that point. I got three stitches for my trouble and eventually a very nice scar.

When we got back to my grandparent’s house, I showed off my battle wound and Mother beat that dog. Now you dog people who maybe reading this, don’t get it twisted.  The dog lived to bite another day, just not anyone in my family. Papa ended up giving Bud away and I’m sure Mother had something to do with it.

It was my own fault, but sadly the injury ended my future as a hand model.

The Miss-ion

The nature of this blog will be purely anecdotal. It will be the stories of my life: from everyday happenings (only when something is worth noting) and those that have colored my past. These stories will be mainly ones that will most likely evoke belly laughter, but there will also be a sprinkle of sad. Thus spawns the title of my blog: The Miss-Adventures of a Southern Belle. In the double-entendre of it all, Miss, in the scope of this blog, can mean the either: Miss – meaning a young women, i.e.: Me and the fun things I do, or miss – meaning a failure to hit or meet, i.e.: the calamity that can ensue. (Side note: another possible blog title I was considering was Chronicles of Calamity. I thought better of it). In either case, these stories, whether funny or sad, will fulfill the definition.

NOW: Be warned grammar geniuses. If you plan on partaking of this blog, you will be asked to set aside your MLA fine-tooth comb, for critiquing this blog is ill-advised. If you cannot, my suggestion is to move on. I thank you for taking the time to get to this point, if you’ve even made it this far. As I’m typing now, I don’t see any red or green squiggles under anything, so I can only assume I’ve made it here without a grammar faux pas. If you can enjoy my stories in the possible fragmented sentences and mangled English that is my accent and way of speaking, then by all means, enjoy. I do promise to do my due diligence when it comes to matters of grammar and spelling.

With that said: Welcome to the blog of my life. Try not to wet yourself.