While the stated goals of both bills are good, I agree that these bills, in their current form, are poor legislation and I’m encouraged to see The CATO Institute, The Heritage Foundation, The Drudge Report, Senator Marco Rubio, Representative Paul Ryan, and other conservative leaders come out in opposition to these bills.

But here’s my thing: Both congress and the state legislature address issues that are just as consequential as SOPA/PIPA, if not more so, on a regular basis. We shouldn’t require that an issue become a trending topic on Twitter, receive a celebrity spokesperson, or lead a major website to go offline in order for us to become engaged in this process.

I remember when I was an intern at the state capitol. The Senator I worked for that year sponsored what I believed was a very important bill, which would have allowed individuals who were victims of rape or abuse the opportunity to break a lease agreement and relocate to a safe place without having to face financial ruin. We issued a press release before the bill came up for a vote in committee, made information about the bill available on Facebook and the Senator’s website, etc., but we really weren’t ever able to drum up a lot of support or excitement for that legislation. There wasn’t much of an appetite for it in the media. Because people were not aware of what was going on, the lobbyists for the Tennessee Apartment Association came in and killed the bill. The day the bill came up for a vote in committee, you could hear crickets across the halls of our office building and the committee room- which is open to the public- was empty. The bill died and that was that.

Weeks later, the ‘Guns in Bars’ bill came up for a vote and it was chaos. Phones were ringing off the hook. Our office was inundated with emails. Supporters of the bill flooded the balcony of the Senate chamber. Constituents called telling me that if the Senator I worked for did not vote a certain way on this one bill, they would see to it that she was not reelected.

Do you see the point I’m making?

PIPA/SOPA is an important issue and yes, they are bad bills, but they aren’t the only items of legislation this year that I believe demand our attention.

The Tennessee state legislature, for example, is scheduled to take up a bill in the Senate Judiciary Committee next week which would make the sale of “designer drugs” known as “bath salts” and “Molly’s Plant Food,” illegal in the state of Tennessee (SB2172). This is important legislation. Tennessee- and especially the Upper Cumberland region of the state, where I live- has a real drug problem. Right now, manufacturers can take an illegal drug and make a chemical change of as little as one molecule, and create a substance that isn’t illegal. This bill will end that practice, and in doing so- save many lives.

Don’t wait for someone to tell you that something is important before you act on it. Be engaged in the process year round, and speak up on those issues that matter to you.

Thinking of all my D.C. congressional staffer friends today. Hope you’re able to catch a break at some point

-Jonathan

I would like to think that I’m fairly mature and responsible, and I know that when I graduate I’ll be ready for it, but still, the thought of being out in the real world seems kind of daunting. I still don’t even know what the heck a 401K is. Until very recently, I thought it was some sort of a race or marathon. Do I have one? How do I get one? Maybe I should ask the payroll lady at Kroger. Or my Mom. Or Google.

Also, I feel like I don’t have any of those trendy, professional adult hobbies. I don’t golf, eat sushi, smoke cigars, play chess, or go to wine tastings. Instead I watch Celebrity Rehab, still order the funny face pancake off the children’s menu at IHOP, and wear out the “Fat Booth” iPhone app with my friends so we can see what everyone we know would look like if they had 6 chins. Sophisticated, right?

Anyway, as a second semester college senior, I don’t prepare as much for the first day of class as I used to. Freshman year, I pre-ordered all of my textbooks, and had bought a notebook and folder for every class two weeks before school started. I was that guy. This year, I came to class empty handed but I still got there about 30 minutes early. At Tennessee Tech there is this unspoken code that you do not move from the seat that you choose on the first day for the rest of the semester, and I learned the hard way sophomore year that if you don’t arrive to class early on the first day, you end up sitting by the kid that smells like a mixture of cigarettes, a wet dog, and tuna fish for the entire semester. I’m not doing that again.

After class let out, I went to work. I wasn’t scheduled to be there, but one of the technicians made lasagna and as we’ve established, there is very little that I won’t do for a free meal. This was my text message conversation with my pharmacist, Lisa, this afternoon:

ME: Is lasagna still happening? And how tacky would it be if I came by and got some?
LISA: Pretty tacky . . .  [She was kidding. I think.]
ME: Well how about if I came to say hi to everybody and then just happened to take some lasagna while I was there?
LISA: Still tacky. But then again, we’re used to you.
ME: Okay I’ve been sitting out in the parking lot waiting for the OK. I’m walking in right now.

I have no shame.

Hope you’re all having a good Thursday! Stay safe out there in the crazy blizzard (read: flurries and light rain).

-Jonathan

As of yesterday at 5:00 PM I am officially done with fall semester of my senior year. Which is really exciting until I consider that I have one more semester until I’m in the real world. Then I think about getting a job, paying back my student loans, paying on a mortgage, having kids, my hair going gray, what hobbies I’ll have to occupy my time in my old age . . . then I just get tired.

Anyway, now that finals are over, I suppose it’s time to change out of the tracksuit (which incidentally, has never been used for purposes of an athletic activity), hat, & glasses I’ve been wearing for the past week and return to things such as bathing regularly, and stop doing things like eating almost an entire pizza at 3 AM and obsessively making flash cards and reciting terms and dates in my sleep.

I feel like I’ve already forgotten most of what I learned this semester.  Except I do remember reading in my “History of Crime in America” class that 60% of serial killers wet the bed regularly as adults. I found that statistic fascinating.

During the weekend that separated the last week of regular classes and final exams at Tech, I went home to take Christmas card pictures with my family. True to tradition, there was never a dull moment.

As I arrived home, my Mom was pulling out of the driveway. “Where are you going?” I yelled. She announced that she was going to pick up the neighbors so that they could take showers at our house. Their hot water heater busted.

I said a silent prayer thanking God that for once it was someone else’s family.

As I made my way on into the house, I saw that everyone was getting ready for Christmas card pictures. So naturally, it was complete chaos. I ducked one flying hair brush, stepped on 3 hair clips, and ingested a cloud of hairspray on my way to my room (aka the couch in the bonus room).  This year, my Mom wanted all of us to wear a shirt from our school for pictures, and then we had also brought a change of clothes in case those didn’t turn out. Our first stop was Moss Wright park.

I give you, the Frank Family Christmas card rejects. Round 1:

Then we had an idea. There was this really scenic house down the road that we were pretty sure nobody lived in, so we changed clothes while driving in the car, and headed there to take a few more pictures. I suppose it was kinda sorta trespassing, especially since there were signs posted all over the yard, but hey- we’ve done worse things. And I knocked on the door first to make sure nobody was home. We were there for about 15 minutes and had taken a few good pictures when we spotted the homeowners. A very short conversation ensued, and then we left. Quickly. 

It’s the oddest thing. People get so angry when a family of six sets up camp on their private property and takes pictures. I wanted to interject and tell the homeowner that if he knew my family, he wouldn’t think anything of it, but decided against it.

We then headed out to my grandparents’ farm across town. At this point I think we had basically given up:

A couple hours and 117 pictures later, we did somehow manage to end up with a few pictures we could use. It was a Christmas miracle! Knowing our track record with Christmas cards, many of you can be expecting yours in the mail sometime around Martin Luther King Day. Also, you can probably expect some sort of attempt at humor. Christmas cards in the past have said things such as:

“Merry Christmas! From ‘We Three Franks.’”  (1997)

“Wishing you a ‘Tender Tennessee Christmas’ . . . From Connecticut!” (2000)

“We know this card is late, but who said Jesus was born on December 25th anyway?”  (1996)

I’m actually not kidding.

Anyway, even though I’m out of class for the semester, I’m staying in Cookeville until the 22nd to work at the pharmacy, and then coming back to ring in 2012 by working there on New Years Day, which depresses me just a little. I suspect we’ll sell lots of phentermine, Nicorette patches, and Viagra to account for all those New Year’s resolutions people made.

But for now, it’s back to the How I Met Your Mother marathon I’m watching. Ah, being done with school for a month sure is nice!

Until next time, I hope you and yours have a Merry Christmas!

-Jonathan

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately. Stupid school takes up all my time. I’m three weeks behind on “Modern Family”. That’s how busy I’ve been. Also, the column I write each week for my school newspaper takes a lot of time to work on and after I’ve written that each week sometimes I just don’t feel like writing. I’m having a lot of fun with The Oracle though. It took me a while to get the hang of it. I can be honest enough to say that a couple of those first columns kinda sucked,  but I’m pleased with what the response has been lately. If you haven’t had a chance to, I hope you’ll read some of my recent columns about the pro-life movement, Occupy Wall Street, anti-Islamic sentiments in the state legislature, and- most importantly- Kim Kardashian.

But don’t read all of that unless you’re really, really bored. Or maybe if you have to use the bathroom and you know you’re gonna be a while but you don’t have any good magazines available to you.

I just got back from a moot court competition in Nashville. I know- kinda geek-ish, right? But as much as I’d love to pretend not to, I really do enjoy it. I’ve decided that the only organizations on campus that are too dorky for me are the Quiddich club, the Dungeons and Dragons group, and maybe the Society of Clarinets. Everything else is fair game.

Our team did really well this year, coming in 3rd place. If I was a better person I would say that it was a great learning experience, and we went just to have fun and yada yada yada. Pssh. Forget that. I just wanted to beat those hoity-toity, overconfident kids from Rhodes College, and we did! Yeah they had perfectly coiffed hair, tailored suits, higher ACT scores, and arrived in their own private bus, but we beat them dadgummit! The fact that we come from a school in Cookeville, Tennessee that everyone still thinks is a community college and seems to mentally picture as being next to a Subway in a strip-mall made the victory that much sweeter.

Also, I have to tell you about the lawyer from Tennessee State University. I’m pretty sure English was not his first language. He had a very strong accent and- pardon my crudeness here- he used the phrase “hardship” a lot in the course of his oral argument and I swear every time he said the word it honestly sounded as though he was saying “hot sh*t.” There was audible laughter in the room each time he used the word.

“Your honor, we must consider the hardship being placed on the respondent today.”
“Ultimately, this case is a matter of hardship.”
“We must expand the provisions of the equal protections clause in our state to stop this hardship!” 

It was around his second utterance of the word that I developed what I call the church giggles. I was sitting in the back of the room biting my lip and staring at my feet, trying so hard to keep from laughing. Some light laughter was emitted so I started coughing to cover it up. Then more laughs. The harder I tried to stifle it, the more I wanted to laugh. It was terrible. But in my defense, my professor and half of the other competitors were doing it too.

The week after moot court competition was, of course Thanksgiving which I consider to basically just be a dress rehearsal for the real holiday that comes a month later: Christmas. This year I did something I’ve never done before and joined in on the Black Friday madness.

Worst idea ever.

I went to the Wal Mart in Madison, TN which is always an interesting cultural experience anyway and presents a slight risk of getting assaulted any day of the year but this day was especially crazy. If I go next year, I’m bringing a Kevlar vest, and a lawn chair and a book for while I’m waiting in line.

The lines for each checkout aisle stretched all the way to the back wall of the store, and everyone was very possessive of their spot. Each time someone tried to casually ease their way into the line, someone would inevitably yell out, “We’ve got a cutter!!” and then the angry mob would direct the person back to their proper spot in the back of the line.  I saw a few intense arguments too. If there is one thing I’ve learned from my black friday experience, it’s don’t get in the way of a pissed off soccer mom on a mission. Those ladies will literally shop to the death.

The whole time I was standing in line I was pretty much getting groped from all sides. I felt like a female Herman Cain staffer. Apparently there is no such thing as personal space at Wal Mart on black friday. The woman in front of me in line kept whispering strange things to me:

“Stay close!”
“Keep your eye on that lady in the black sweater.”
“Did you see that man just try to cut in line?! Who the %#$* does he think he is?!”
“I got this Blu Ray player for $50! Can you believe that?”
“So anyway, my son and his baby mama are having problems again . .  .”

I feel like we really bonded.

Anyway, I’ve got to go work on this project for my Constitutional Law class that I guess is kinda sorta important so that’s all for now, friends. Stay well and drink some egg nog for me! Or boiled custard. Whichever you prefer really.

I’m just not a big party person. I have plenty of good friends that are, but I find all of that to be just a little intimidating. Happy Hour at SONIC is where it’s at for me. But the other night, I got dragged into going downtown for a friend’s birthday party. Here is the story of Jonathan’s big night out: (aka how I ended up asleep on the table in a Waffle House at 3 AM)

My friend Brittany turned 22 recently and that weekend we went to Nashville to celebrate the occasion. There were about 6 of us that went out and, per her request, we all wore 1980′s-era attire. Some people went all out with their costumes. I just wore a “Reagan/Bush 1984″ shirt. Which, I actually wear on a normal basis anyway because I love it. Stop laughing.

The night started with a random bluegrass festival at the Nashville Renaissance Hotel. I knew then that this would be an interesting evening. There were people playing music all over that hotel. It was a circus. In the lobby, the elevator area of every floor, down the hallways of guest rooms– people were playing music everywhere. There was no safe refuge from the banjos. We were getting a lot of strange looks too because of the costumes in our group, which I thought was ironic because many of the people looking at us as if we were crazy had little to no teeth.

Then we left, and headed down Broadway in search of “Decades.” Apparently it’s a club that plays 80′s music.We found it, but they had gone out of business. At this point I suggested an alternative inside my comfort zone–  Sbarro’s Pizza and LaserQuest. Good, clean, Baptist fun, right? This idea was not well received. So we continued on in search of our next adventure, with me reaching in my back pocket to make sure my wallet was still there about every 10 seconds.

Fifteen minutes and three solicitations for money from panhandlers later, we ended up at a very classy establishment called “Ms. Kelly’s Karaoke” on Printer’s Alley (where people get stabbed). Shortly after getting there I realized, these are not my people. First off, I was getting a lot of flack for the Ronald Reagan shirt. Turns out, the middle-of-the-night, Nashville bar crowd are not Reagan fans. Who knew? I told my friend that the Reagan constituency was probably in bed by now so that they could arrive on time to church in the morning. Second of all, I don’t sing, drink, or dance, and those seem to be kinda like the 3 things that you do at a karaoke bar.I did, however, meet two very nice ladies named Melba and Shameica. They sang a duet of that “Money Money Money” song that plays at the beginning of every episode of The Apprentice . . . . then Melba threw up behind the pool table while Shameica held her hair. That’s true friendship ya’ll. It was kind of inspiring.

Anyway, 2 AM rolled and and after several hours of nervously sipping on my watered down Diet Coke, pretending to text on my phone, and cheering on the various intoxicated performers, my friends decided it was time to head out. I did not protest this decision. We were hungry though, so before going home we made a stop at the Waffle House.

I fell asleep at the table.

When I woke up, there was this gruff, heavily tattooed, angry looking lady in my face and I thought I was about to get mugged. Turns out it was just the waitress. Her name was Krystal, but I feel like a more fitting name would have been “Helga” or perhaps “Bertha.” Listen, I don’t judge and I don’t know this lady’s life but uh, she’s assaulted someone– or at the very least, pulled a girl’s weave out in a fit of rage– at least once. Let’s just be honest. Also, I’m going to have to assume that dental coverage is not part of her benefits package.

Anyway, Krystal/Helga/Bertha was handing out everybody’s food and I decided I wanted to order something too. In my tired state I, for some reason, asked for a double order of hashbrowns smothered, covered, and topped. If you frequent the Waffle House then, first of all you have terrible taste, but also you know what that means: I ordered hashbrowns with chilli, cheese and onions. Worst. Idea. Ever.  Why, oh why, did someone not stop me? There was an all out war raging within my digestive tract for like an entire day after that. Truly, my body still has not fully forgiven me.

By 4 AM I was home with major heartburn and absolutely exhausted. I’m thinking next time I’ll suggest dinner and a movie.

My 1:30 class was canceled today so I’m catching up on “The Sing Off” and updating the ‘ol blog … and doing so in a different pair of clothes than the ones I went to my first class in this morning.

I take a travel mug of coffee to class with me every morning and I should have known that one of these days, it would get knocked over. Today was that day. Blonde girl with the huge backpack walked in to class and accidentally knocked it over sending a mug full of hot coffee all over me, the desk, and the floor. So embarrassing. She kept apologizing and I was just trying to play it cool, “Oh it’s no big deal! You’re fine!” — As I’m wringing out my coffee-drenched sweater over the trash can. Luckily, it was before class started so a lot of people weren’t there. And I think I did a pretty good job of pretending to not be as uncomfortable or embarrassed as I really was.

We’re also starting group projects in that class and today I got paired with that person who everyone wants to avoid working with at all costs. I’m not Facebook friends with anybody in that class and none of you are going to know who I’m talking about. She has complete anonymity– so I’m going to vent about her. First of all, don’t feel sorry for her. I’m very friendly to her, and I’m sympathetic to the fact that everyone has their own story and stuff going on in their lives and Lord knows I’m a little socially awkward at times myself, but as far as I can tell this girl is just obnoxiously annoying and doesn’t have any good excuse for it.

This is the girl that on the first day of class, asked the teacher if she had tips for students with “high test anxiety,” then in another class, asked to be excused from the room when we were watching a documentary about executions in the Roman empire because, as she says, “I have a sensitive stomach and am disturbed by violence.”  And she has a story for everything. Everything. It’s gotten so bad that the professor just ignores her. This is an example from this morning in my public relations class:

PROFESSOR: Who remember’s what “The Potter’s Box” is, from chapter 5?
STUDENT: Oh my goodness. That just reminded me of the funniest story about my Dad!
PROFESSOR: Does anybody remember?
STUDENT:  You see, he worked at this restaurant one time . ..
PROFESSOR: It’s on page 135 in your textbook.
STUDENT:  And he worked with this one person and his last name was Potter. Isn’t that crazy? (laughs hysterically)
PROFESSOR:  It’s a model for ethical decision making developed by Ralph Potter . . . .

You get the idea. Anyway, when the professor announced that we were breaking into groups for an assignment, she immediately blurted out “I call Jonathan! I call Jonathan!” and then preceded to tell everyone in the class that we “really connect.”  The professor, in her great mercy, then turned to me to ask if that arrangement was okay.

No. No it’s not. Please, Dr. Wilson! Save me. Help. I’ll do anything!

“Sure! That’d be great,” I said with a forced smile.

—

In other news, I got a dog–then turned right back around and got rid of it, making me “one of those people.” I know, I know, that’s really irresponsible.  My roommates and I got the dog about three weeks ago. And it was great . . . for about an hour. Then he peed on everything in the house, including but not limited to: the area rug in the den, the couch, the love seat, the kitchen floor, and about 5 times he hiked it up and peed all over the air vent. That can’t be healthy. So three weeks, a can of “Hot Shot” carpet cleaner, a bottle of extra strength Febreze, one “Fur Fighter,” (for getting dog hair off the couch)  and 5 plug-it-ins later, Weezer the pug is no more. We had him put to sleep.

Totally kidding. Now he lives with some girl named Cassandra. I think he’ll be happier there. I liked him but I just felt bad because we were all so busy so he spent a lot of time in his cage or chained up outside and it’s hard sharing a dog among several people because sometimes we all assumed that the other person would take care of a certain responsibility and it never ended up getting done. It’s for the better. And now our apartment doesn’t smell like the inside of the humane society anymore.

So long, Weezer.

Taken right before he projectile vomited all over the living room then ran off through the open back door and lead me on a chase through the nearby housing projects. Good times, good times.

Well that’s about all for now, friends. I haven’t been paying attention to The Sing Off, so I’m going to rewind and try again. I think I like Sara Bareilles as a judge this year.

Until the next time I get super bored or something really comical, terrible or profound happens,
Jonathan

Sorry for disappearing for a little while, but I’m making up for lost time and have a lot to share!

The semester has started at Tennessee Tech. I was really excited to see a lot of my friends and professors again and get back into my classes. That lasted for about thirty minutes on the first day. Now I’ve completely lost interest, am tired and ready for Christmas break. And I’m ticked off too because all of my teachers take attendance this semester. Confession: Since the start of my freshman year, I skipped classes in which the teacher did not take attendance at least once a month. Usually more. And then there were classes like Biology that I showed up to a twice the entire semester. Those were the days.

My juvenile delinquency professor is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met except whenever he talks it sounds like he needs to clear his throat. It really bothers me. Also, he has a strong passion -I’m gonna go ahead and call it an obsession- with cats. And I’m really not sure that it’s healthy. The man freakin’ loves cats. He has like 6 or 7. Thus, he kind of smells like a litter box. I mean that in the nicest way possible. He got choked up in class on the first day talking about one of his cats that had passed away a while ago and the signature line on his email is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein saying something about how music and cats are the two escapes from the miseries of life. I mean, that’s definitely my motto. I don’t know about you.

My theater class is in the nursing building. Naturally. I’m really enjoying it so far. The teacher is kind of a hippie but in a good way. If they ever had a movie version of The Magic School Bus with live actors, she would definitely be cast as the part of Mrs. Frizzell. Also, on the first day of class, I took two slices of pizza from the nursing student lounge when nobody was in there and ate them in my car. I apologize to all TTU nursing students.

My history class is in the basement of the women’s residence hall next to the laundry room because one of the buildings at Tech used for classroom space is being remodeled. There are no windows so it kind of feels like an interrogation room, especially when we’re having class discussions over stuff I forgot to read in the textbook. Also, it’s a small class that meets down there and I don’t think most people know about it, so every time I walk into the women’s dorm for class I feel like everyone thinks I’m some sort of pervert. Sigh.

On top of classes, I’m also working as an assistant editor for the school newspaper. I know that’s apparently not the coolest thing to do, but I mean I fell asleep at 10:00 last night watching TV Land. Let’s be honest, the role fits me. I can accept that. And yes, TTU friends- you’re school has a newspaper. It’s free. For the love of all that is good, pick up a copy. Please. Don’t do this on the day it comes out, but after it’s been sitting in the bins for a couple days you have my permission to grab a couple copies to use to line your household pet’s crate. Oh, and we have crossword puzzles! Take a look at my sweet cubicle:

Please note the Dollar Store American flag in the right hand corner of the picture. All of the other editors make fun of it. They're just jealous.

On an unrelated note, one of my roommates recently moved out to get his own place and another friend moved in, so during the course of all of this we’ve lost some furniture, acquired new furniture, and have just been doing some rearranging, and I was excited to find this at the store the other day for $10:

“Wow, look at that canvas with the names of all those cities painted on it!” I said to my equally naive friend. She liked it too, so I bought it. Well, as you probably immediately knew from looking at that picture, those are apparently not the names of cities written on the canvas, but rather various types of wine. I had no idea. I don’t drink. I could have sworn I’ve heard of at least 2 or 3 of these “places”. But anyway it was $10, I’ve lost the receipt, and is covering up a big nail hole- so for now, it stays. Maybe I’ll paint over it with the names of all my favorite soft drinks- Mountain Dew, Diet Coke, Orange Cream Soda, etc. That would be classy, right?

That’s all for now, friends. Hope you’re all having a good semester!

PS- The first issue of the newspaper for this year publishes Friday, the 16th. I’m excited to be contributing two columns in this first week and it would really mean a lot to me if you’d check it out! You can also find us online at www.tntechoracle.com

]]> http://jonathansthoughts.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/school-bleh/feed/ 2 Jonathan IMG_0097 photo (3) http://jonathansthoughts.wordpress.com/2011/08/21/when-tragedy-strikes/ http://jonathansthoughts.wordpress.com/2011/08/21/when-tragedy-strikes/#comments Sun, 21 Aug 2011 06:53:39 +0000 Jonathan http://jonathansthoughts.wordpress.com/?p=1278 ]]> Listen, I don’t want to be dramatic, but today is the worst day in the history of the entire world. I’m mourning the loss of a dear friend: my iPhone. This has been a very difficult time for me, and I appreciate the outpouring of sympathy. In lieu of flowers, please send cash. Or used cell phones, whichever really.

Yesterday started out like any other day. I went in to work, running late as usual, and still feeling a little iffy from the taco I had the night before. I was scheduled to work a 9 to 3. We were steady the entire day, but never overwhelmingly, crazy busy. At 3:00, seeing that there was still a lot to be done before we closed at 6 that evening, I offered to stay late. Mistake #1

A few minutes later, my manager casually asked me if I might feel like going to the back of the store to help put up our truck order of supplies that had come in that morning. “Sure!” I said. Mistake #2

Then, while putting up the order, I realized I have to pee. So I went to the bathroom. Mistake #3. I should have waited. I would have MUCH rather wet my pants than what happened next.

Then, while using the bathroom, I reached into my pocket to grab something. Mistake #4 

I’m not sure what I was reaching for. Maybe it was my chapstick? Maybe I was just going to flush all of my excess pocket lint? I don’t know, but in any event, as I pulled the item out of my pocket, the pocket itself came out of the pants, turning inside out and releasing everything that was in the pocket straight into the toilet. Including my iPhone.

Now this is where my story won’t really match up with what I told my coworkers when I returned to the pharmacy. I said that I dropped my phone in the sink. That was a complete lie. Sorry. That iPhone fell in the toilet- and not just any toilet; a toilet full of urine. I know, that’s disgusting- thus the fact I lied. I was embarrassed. Plus I think I was still in a state of shock. Don’t worry, I washed my hands after, and used hand sanitizer liberally for the rest of the day.

The actual split-second when the iPhone fell into the toilet seemed to happen in slow motion. There was this moment where I saw it happening but couldn’t react quickly enough to catch it before the point of impact. So what did I do as soon as it landed in the pee-filled toilet? Without hesitation, I reached in and grabbed it. Didn’t even blink. It was just instinctive. (Again, I washed my hands after. And have now also showered since that time. Twice.)

Usually if I’m by myself when something bad happens, I don’t respond to it audibly. For example, when I bought a dresser for my apartment at Target last year and put it together, only for it to fall over and break 30 minutes later (I think I was missing a screw somewhere in the bottom) I didn’t actually say something out-loud. Same thing for when I was driving through Ridgetop last summer and realized I was getting pulled over by a cop for speeding; I didn’t say anything while sitting alone in my car.

When this iPhone fell in the toilet, it was a different story.

Nooo! Nooooooo!
Please. Please. Pleeeeaaaassssee. (When it wouldn’t come back on)
Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH!
This can’t be happening.
[Expletive] 

At this point, I realized that someone else had walked in to the restroom. He probably thought I had tourettes. Or maybe was severely constipated. Either scenario would have been better than losing an iPhone. 

Anyway, now my iphone is in a coma, sitting in a bag of rice and I’m starting to have to face the possibility of life after iPhone. How does one move on? Is it too soon to start looking at other phones? In the mean time, is there a way to play “Words with Friends” just on your computer? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Okay I’m going to check on iPhone again and see if he’s woken up yet.

Immediately after work I went to the shady gas station by campus to purchase a large Mello Yello and double slice of pizza and then I came home, ran in the door, changed into sweats, and got in bed where I then proceeded to eat the pizza while watching season 6 of The Office on DVD. This is my therapy and here’s the story of why I needed it:

I’ve shared a little bit on here about my new job working at a pharmacy here in town. As I’ve said before, and I will repeat it now, I really do enjoy my job. The people I work with are the absolute best and my bosses are very good to me, plus I’m a talker and enjoy being around people so I enjoy the work that I do. And in this economy, I’m just grateful for employment, period. Now let’s begin . . .

Today was the visit from “corporate”. The pharmacy I work for is part of a larger chain and they’ve recently instituted a number of new policies and procedures that they trained us on today. I worked in the store for the first few hours of the day, and then went to the training event for the last half of my shift.

I was just now starting to get to a place where I felt comfortable with the tasks I did each day at work and I really wasn’t looking forward to having to relearn many parts of my job, but there was free food so I wasn’t going to complain . . . Then, I got there and saw that we were having sandwiches without mayonnaise or cheese. That’s when I knew that these were not good people.

I’m not a prima donna, but if I’m going to sit through a 4 hour seminar about how my job is going to get a lot more complicated and my pay is going to stay the same and  I’m sitting in a seat where I can’t discreetly text or play Angry Birds on my phone to pass the time,  I’d like a slice of cheese on my turkey sandwich or to at least to be informed ahead of time that said sandwich will not include cheese so that I can make alternate arrangements. Yeah I know, I’m a lazy, entitled American and people are starving in Uzbekistan or whatever. I still want my dang slice of cheese.

Anyway, we sat there eating our cheese-less and mayonnaise-less sandwiches for a few minutes and then the training started. In my mind, the person giving the seminar was that teacher from the Charlie Brown television specials. His lips were moving, but I didn’t hear words. I had woken up at 6:00 that morning (In my nervousness and anxiety about what this day would hold, I woke up unnecessarily early and got to work 30 minutes before anyone else) and my mind was in a far away place.

I think I left the coffee pot on at home.
I’m two weeks behind on “Weeds.” I have to watch last week’s episode tonight so I can find out if Nancy get’s custody of her son.
Why in the heck would you serve sandwiches without cheese?! What kind of sick person does that?! 

Then, afraid that the man standing in front of us had spotted my distant, blank facial expression, I tuned back in to what was being said. I was overwhelmed. They were telling us all of these new things to do, saying how “simple and easy” they would be. Didn’t they know I had just successfully learned how to do it the first way? And they were telling us what to do, but now how to do it. As in, what buttons do I push? Please, don’t be afraid to insult my intelligence here. Also, the training videos were completely unrealistic. It depicted all of the customers as being very pleasant, there was never a long line, and I didn’t  hear the phone ring in the background once! Clearly, they’ve never spent any real length of time at our pharmacy.  

The person administering the training then went on to remind us about some of the other things we’re already supposed to be doing. For example: Corporate randomly decided in the fall of last year that suddenly we’re no longer supposed to use the mouse attached to the computer to navigate through the software program that we use, and are instead supposed to use the “shortcut keys” — except it’s not a shortcut because it doesn’t save any time. At all. And no one has been able to successfully make me understand why this matters. I think the person that put the policy in place had a bad experience with a computer mouse as a child and is now taking it out on all of us.

Anyway, after a few more hours of the person from corporate talking himself in circles about these fun, new and exciting changes, it was time to go. After that, I hit up the gas station, got my pizza and Mello Yello,  and that brings me back to where I am right now: Sitting in bed, eating my feelings, and watching The Office, venting about “the man” like I’m some middle-aged, union employee from the 60′s working in the coal mines.

On the bright side: I’m off work tomorrow.

Oh, and I really do like my job.

I’ve been home this weekend enjoying some time off work and just hanging out with my family. The actual day of my 21st birthday was spent mostly at the DMV, waiting to renew my license. I should have brought a book, or three. Perhaps also a pillow. And maybe a blanket and an assortment of games. I think all of the employees there took some sort of solemn vow to never smile. Also, forget the state’s revenue shortfalls- If I’m going to be at the DMV for hours on end, I want comfier seats. Somebody make a call.

Anyway after about two and a half hours there I finally got my new license. The good news: I no longer look obese in my  picture. The bad news: There is a shadow in the picture making it appear as though I have a mullet. I signed up to be an organ donor for the sole purpose of hopefully getting out of a speeding ticket one day.

After the DMV I went to church, because everybody knows that’s the place to be on the evening of your 21st birthday, especially when it falls on a Friday. My family was using a room there for a little reunion of sorts we were having that evening with some of our cousins from out of town. It was actually really nice. I wanted to be there and I thought it was kind of a fitting way to end the day. Plus there was pizza- my favorite fancy meal- so I was content.

Saturday my family went to one of my favorite restaurants for lunch: Monelle’s. It’s this ‘meat & 3′ in East Nashville. We were the only white people there and I loved it– I’m not eating for another month, but still, I loved it. Then, this happened:

Me and my new best friend. Who needs real relationships anymore? There's an app for that.

Listen, I don’t consider myself a materialistic person, and I’m not one of these people that has to have the latest of everything but uh … I like this phone better than I like most people. There, I said it.

iPhone likes it when I hold him.

I’ve already downloaded several apps, mostly for educational purposes, you know like: “Texts from Last Night”, “Angry Birds”, “Paper Toss” and “Barking Dog Noise”– don’t ask.

Tonight, the celebration continues as I am going to the Ke$ha concert in Nashville with one of my good friends. I’m really looking forward to a refined evening of deep and inspiring music from a talented young lady that is such a great role model for our young people. You may be familiar with some of her songs such as “Tik Tok,” “Blah Blah Blah,” “We R Who We R” and “Sleazy.” She’s basically a young Amy Grant. Don’t Google her, just take my word for it.

Thank you all for the birthday calls, texts, and Facebook messages on Friday. I was really feeling the love!

Wishing you a wonderful, lazy Sunday afternoon

-Jonathan

It’s been a busy few weeks and I haven’t had a lot of time to write but after being overwhelmed with emails, calls, texts, telegrams, faxes and pages on my beeper begging for more stories from the unpredictable, edgy and exciting saga that is my summer in Cookeville, I decided to finally respond to the public outcry and update my blog. Actually it’s more  because I’m bored and waiting to digest the taco I ate earlier before I go outside and run, but whatever.

Work here in Cookeville is going great. I feel like I’m sort of settling into a rhythm and getting to know some of the regular customers and, more importantly, the pronunciation of all these drug names. (Me on the first day of work: “Ma’am, your o … om … omep … Your medication that begins with the letter ’0′ is now ready for pickup.”) Basically, I don’t feel completely inept like I did for the first month. Unfortunately, still, none of our customers have asked me questions about the anti labor-union bills, or my personal opinion of Michele Bachmann, or my thoughts on whether or not congress is going to vote to raise the debt ceiling. Sigh.

I also just returned from a family vacation to Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. We had a great time and didn’t have any disasters, something to always be thankful for when traveling with the Franks, who some have come to lovingly refer to as ‘The Griswolds’ because many times our trips seem to mirror those of Chevy Chase and his family in the Vacation movies- except thankfully nobody has ever died in mid-trip. A few hospital visits, but no deaths. Also, minus some of the profanity. Not all, but some. (I’m looking at you, Mom)

My vacation got a late start though, when I had to work for a couple days in Cookeville while my family had already gone to the beach. So poor old me had to get holiday pay for a six hour shift on the 4th, then go to Nashville to celebrate and watch the fireworks with my friends, then take a flight out the next day to South Carolina (they drove). Feel sorry for me yet?

Airports and flying make me both nervous and excited at the same time. The night before my flight I checked and re-checked my carry-on back at least a dozen times. It would be just my luck for the one pocket knife that I own and haven’t used in 5 years to wander into the bag for the airport security guy to find. Next thing you know I’d be getting frisked by some TSA agent with a lazy eye and a name like “Mo” and then before you knew it, it would be time to board the plan and I wouldn’t get to scope out the terminal for celebrities or make it to my favorite airport resturant- Swett’s- to get fried chicken before my flight. That was the scenario I was worried about. Thankfully that didn’t happen. No celebrity sightings though. And sadly I slept through the entire flight so I missed out on my free soft-drink and pretzels. Maybe next time.

In other news, I read a really good book while I was on vacation, saw Transformers 3 in theaters but fell asleep halfway through, and turn 21 in 2 weeks. Hooray!

That’s all for now. My alarm clock is set for an ungodly hour tomorrow morning so I can go kick it with the senior citizens at the YMCA.

Hope you have a great week!

Fireworks in Nashville!

Got to spend July 4th with some of my best friends

Hilton Head Island, SC

The obligatory family beach picture in all white. We're such a cliché.

Anyway, after that class the instructor said “Now, you’re all staying for the cardio class after this, right?” And as we’ve established, I don’t know how to say no, so I stayed. Big mistake. First of all, if anyone I knew had seen me doing attempting some of these steps, they would have had material with which to blackmail me for the rest of my life and my man card would be permanently revoked. I tried not to look at myself in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror as all of this was going on because I knew doing so would depress me. Second of all, uhh those soccer moms put me to shame. Their minivans and awkward conversations right in front of me about menopause caused me to underestimate them, but no- these ladies are beasts.

After the cardio class, the instructor asked “Now, who all is staying for the sculpting class after this?” I have no clue what ‘sculpting’ is, but it just sounds painful.  Who does this lady think I am anyway? Someone that’s in shape? So I bolted. Actually I wasn’t physically able to bolt at that time, it was more like a hobble really. The point is, I left.

—

I read Tina Fey’s new book,  Bossypants in 2 days. And I’m a slow reader. That’s how good it was. I literally laughed out loud the whole way through. I’m now reading a book called “Same Kind of Different as Me.” Have you ever heard of it? It’s off to kind of a slow start but it looks promising.

It. Was. Hilarious. I don't think they sell this one at Lifeway though. Just a hunch.

—

Thursday was inventory day at the pharmacy so I made inventory day cookies to put my coworkers in a better mood. Turns out I should have baked something for the customers. They were all especially impatient yesterday. When I left work, I felt as though I had been beat up. Sooo . . . . I went and got a milkshake and cheese-fries as soon as my shift was over (Yes, I just discussed my fitness routine and milkshakes and cheese-fries in the same blog post. Deal with it.)  I still love my job though! And in case you haven’t seen my spiffy uniform yet, here ya go:

Am I here to fill a prescription or change your oil? Who knows. Please note the pen in the pocket for added coolness. Also because we loose approximately 6,434,796 pens a day in the drive-thru.

 —-

Last week, my friend Tien came up to visit and we went to Burgess Falls. You can’t tell because I’m wearing a shirt but I mean, we basically have the same build.*

* That statement is false

 —

Yesterday I went to CMA Fest in Nashville with several of my friends. It’s like Bonnaroo but with country music and minus most of the drug use. I want to say the last concert I had been to before this was Casting Crowns at Two Rivers Baptist Church in Nashville. I’m a wild one. Anyway, it was a lot of fun and made me feel really American. I even let out a couple “Yee-haws” and just pretended the whole night that my Diet Coke was a beer. I also got really spontaneous and at one point winked at a girl, except sometimes when I wink it looks like I have a weird twitch and so she just looked at me sympathetically as if she thought I had some kind of a disability. Sigh. Anyway, here’s my rundown of the evening:

Little Big Town: Amazing. I’m a huge fan and sang along loudly, shamelessly and off-key to every song. The crowd lost it as soon as they started playing “Boondocks.” They also did a cover of “Born this Way” which was really random but kinda good in a weird way. I want to marry the blonde girl with the fro- mostly so I can touch her hair.

Trace Adkins: His voice is too deep to make out the lyrics to his songs from the nosebleeds section of the stadium. It sounded all muffled. The only song I recognized was “Honkeytonk Badonkadonk.” And people say country music isn’t sophisticated . . .

Josh Turner: I loved the irony of an arena full of shirtless, drunk fans with Dale Earnhardt tattoos singing “Victory in the Lord I say” while holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and in some cases, also waving a confederate flag, during the chorus of “Long Black Train.” Come on, that’s funny. He also did a duet with Scotty McCreary from American Idol.

Martina McBride: Flawless. She received a well deserved standing ovation and then teared up while telling everybody how inspiring they were. In my mind I was thinking, “Okay, you were great but don’t read too much into it- they’re all intoxicated.” Also, I think she looks a little bit like Natalie Morales from the Today Show. Google it. I’m right.

Clint Black: I always thought he was dead. Turns out he’s still alive. Eh … He was okay. I went to get a pretzel during his set.

Rascal Flatts: I have all their albums, but it’s a known fact that they’re not great performers live. Tonight, though, they actually didn’t do terribly. Also, Rascal Flatts is ALL about the beach balls. They were kicking them around the whole time, I think to distract from the singing. Unfortunately, none made their way up to my seat in general admission with all the other cheapos.

All in all, it was a good night. I hope you’ve had a good weekend too

I’m currently sitting in ‘Poet’s Coffee Shop’ here in Cookeville. Not for any particular reason- just that it’s summer in Cookeville, my friends are at work, and I needed to get out of the apartment. Sometimes I did this during the school year when both of my roommates’ girlfriends were over and I felt awkward or when I just needed to get out of the apartment for some other reason. Then, I could bring a couple books and my laptop and pretend to be doing homework but I guess that doesn’t really work now.

Anyway, I got all dressed up to come here because as I’ve learned the hard way many times, the one time you leave the apartment in your hat, glasses, sweatpants and the free t-shirt you got at church camp six years ago that is now covered in bleach stains, you will inevitably run into multiple people that you know, and sometimes even the girl that you kinda like. So here I sit, in my good blue jeans and the new shirt I got at Old Navy with my pharmacy money last week. I felt kinda sophisticated for a minute. Then I spilled coffee on my shirt.

For Memorial Day weekend, my parents, sisters and the aunts, uncles, cousins & grandparents on my Mom’s side of the family stayed at a cabin in Georgia. There were 19 of us in all AND we traveled down there together in a rented van. The trip had all the makings of a good TLC special.

On the trip there, I noticed things about members of my family that I hadn’t before. For example, my sweet grandmother whom I love and who reads this blog regularly does this hilarious thing where she- I think unknowingly- reads every road sign aloud, and usually follows that with some sort of indistinct sound.

“Road Work Ahead.” Hmm.
“Chattanooga city limits.” [Sigh]
“Welcome to Georgia!” Oooo!
“One way only.”  Aaahh.

It was cracking me up. Then there was my Dad. My Dad drives on all of our family trips, so I don’t think he’s used to being one of the passenger. Thus, he was making remarks such as:

“Are we going the right way?”
“Can we turn up the air? I’m hot.”
[To me]  ”Can I see your phone? … I want to check my Facebook.”  

Meanwhile, my younger cousin was in the back seat singing “If I Die Young.” I think maybe she was concerned about my uncle’s driving? Either way it’s a great song. A little overplayed but still.

We had a great trip together and I am so, so grateful for such a close family full of people that I would want to be around even if I wasn’t related to them. I love them dearly and that- coupled with the fact that it really messes with my OCD tendencies to not have a picture to go along with each blog post- is the only reason I’m embedding the picture below. Seriously, what’s wrong with my face? I look like I’m in pain. I blame the photographer.

After several failed attempts at capturing a picture of everybody by propping the camera up on top of the van and setting the auto timer, we ran across the street to the neighboring cabin and asked some unsuspecting 15 year old if he could take a few pictures of us.

In other news, I joined a gym. What? Quit laughing! The thing is, I actually have rock hard abs. They’ve just been in hiding since, well … all my life. So anyway I joined the YMCA in hopes of finding them. Also, I want to be able to run a few miles without grabbing my chest in pain, dry heaving, and basically losing my dignity. Simple goals, really. Today I ran 6 miles while watching this show about super-rich 25 year old realtors in California called Million Dollar Listing. Think “This Old House” meets “My Super Sweet 16.” I love how there are televisions attached to the top of all the cardio machines. THAT is how you get Americans to exercise. Anyway after that, I went to a spin class and then piddled around on the weight machines all the while trying to pretend as though I know what I’m doing. Then I collapsed in my car.

I like the YMCA though, because I find gyms in general to be intimidating. When I was home in Nashville last year on an internship, I joined a 24 gym that was filled with all these super intense meatheads and I felt really out of place and embarrassed so I would just go workout at like 1 in the morning so I could have the place to myself and no one would see what I was benching. True story. But the YMCA here attracts my kind of people: slightly out of shape and kinda fitness-illiterate. Sometimes I go to the workout room that the senior citizens use for an extra boost of confidence. I run a waaay faster mile than the 90 year old, disabled, oxygen machine-bound man that was in there today.

It’s about closing time here at the coffee shop and the other guy sitting in here kinda looks like the Unabomber and keeps giving me a weird look. But I think he’s cross eyed so it might be unintentional. In any event, I’m going to go now.

Hope you’re all having a great week!

I got off work at 3:00 and raced back to my apartment, changed clothes, and drove home in a button up shirt and dress pants. The shirt became see-through with sweat by the time I got to Smithville. It was a hot day. Then in Lebanon, I briefly thought I was going to die–either that, or that the world really was going to end at 6:00. I was driving along when suddenly, a rain storm of biblical proportions occurred. I couldn’t see a thing. I turned off the radio (I can’t listen to music in really bad traffic, storms, or when I’m trying to parallel park. It’s just a thing with me. Never been a good multi-tasker), turned on my flashers and started driving at about 20 MPH–as did all of the other cars on the road. I’m not going to lie. I was legit scared. The wind was causing some of the trees to bend almost all the way over and the signs on the side of the road to flap back and forth. It started to hail. Some random debris hit my car and a retread blew across my windshield. I did not, however, see any cows flying across the road like in Twister. 

At this point, I, along with all of the other cars on the road had pulled over to the shoulder and I was busy declaring all of my unconfessed sin. Then, while I was admitting to God that I had actually gotten a sweet tea the last time I went to Panera when I really paid for a water (like you’ve never done that), the sun came out. Gotta love summer storms in Tennessee. I felt really dramatic and was glad that there was no one else in the car to see my brief panic attack.

By the time I got to Mount Juliet, I felt like I was doing pretty good on time. It was about 5:15 and graduation wasn’t until 6:30. I got in the exit lane so that I could run into the Target at Providence Marketplace and grab a gift for a friend’s birthday. Then my phone rang. It was my Mom. Turns out graduation is at 6. Whoops! How did I get that wrong? Ixnay on the Target run. Time to book it!

I finally got to the church where the graduation was being held with about 5 minutes to spare. My family broke a longstanding tradition we have at these types of events and sat in the front. “Well there goes my plan of quietly leaving after they call my sister’s name!” I thought. To make matters worse, I had forgotten to bring any good reading material and I don’t get cell phone reception in the church. This was going to be a long couple of hours.

And can I just say this about high school graduations? I’m all for any excuse to throw a party and eat cake, but if, in the year 2011, you can’t graduate high school, then uh- I have no hope to offer you. I hope, for your sake, that you’re either: really pretty, have an American Idol-worthy voice, or have some special skill that would be of use in the circus. Otherwise, you’re screwed. Now what my sister accomplished is actually pretty impressive. She, unlike her brother three years ago, graduated with highest honors. That’s commendable. But just graduating in and of itself? Congratulations, you have a pulse. Sorry, someone had to say it.

Here’s the other thing about graduations: Everybody knows graduations are a little dull, and 2,000+ people were never intended to be put in a room together for something that isn’t enjoyable. Can you imagine if there were 2,000 people at the DMV? In the waiting room at the dentist? In a concert hall listening to Britney Spears sing live? Someone would get shot. But if you are going to cram that many people in a room together, you need food. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but a funnel cake and/or some nachos would’ve been nice. Maybe also cotton candy … and deep fried oreos. I feel like it could be a real moneymaker.  If someone could work on that for next year . . .

Truly, I am proud of my sister and glad we got to celebrate. Mostly because of this:

This cake changed my life. I think we got my graduation cake from Sams Club. Then again, Alex did make better grades.