The Life of Brian

I really wish Britney Spears would go away.

Seriously, folks, haven’t we had enough of Brit and her babies, K-Fed and all her antics by now? Aren’t there better things with which to concern ourselves?

That brings me to another thing… The Rosie O’Donnell-Donald Trump feud? Will CNN just stop feeding the frenzy of this insane conflict and not do a story EVERY time one or more of them responds to the other’s latest degrading rant? We’re supposed to be civilized people here — can we act like it, please?

Again, aren’t there better things with which to concern ourselves?

I know I’m a fan of a little news of the weird every now and then, but it seems America has just gone OVERBOARD with interest in celebrity lifestyles. Every thing they do — even if they blow their nose in public — seems to generate media coverage these days… not just from the tabloids, but from "mainstream" media like CNN, Fox News, USA Today.

It’s one thing if celebrities are doing a new film, recording new music, doing a play, writing a book, etc., etc. That might be worth reading about… but, seriously, folks, do we need breaking news on CNN every time the afore-mentioned Ms. Spears leaves the house without underwear?

That I could do without.

What we really should be focusing on is the fact that our president (who, in recent months, I have come to believe he should fire his whole staff of advisors) is about to send another 21,500 of our soldiers to Iraq to "help the Iraqis break the current cycle of violence." What, the more than 120,000 U.S. soldiers already over there aren’t enough? What good will another 21,000-plus troops be able to do? Why aren’t we effectively using the ones we’ve got there already? Do we really want to risk more American lives? Is having tens of thousands of our soldiers already in the line of fire not enough?

But again, we see continued coverage about The Donald-Rosie feud on every major news network and website. While both have said some pretty nasty things about each other, why should we care about it? The answer is we shouldn’t.

I’m more worried about the fact that there is an escaped con who is likely loose in my community and probably armed.

I’m more worried about the fact that some of the city leaders where I live just can’t seem to resist taking political potshots at each other, not caring what damage they do in the process to the future progress of our town.

I’m more worried about whether those running for local, state and national offices the next couple of years will actually discuss issues facing us with some REAL substance and a vision to address them, instead of the usual mudslinging and party-line rhetoric that seems to get worse with each election season.

I guess people fixate on celebrities’ lives to forget about their own problems. But at some point we — just like them — have to deal with what’s facing us. Until then, I’ really don’t need to know if Lindsey Lohan got drunk again or Paris Hilton is romancing yet ANOTHER boyfriend.

It’s time we get over it. By jingo golly, we sure need to.

Many of my friends know that I have started this new fitness regimen with a couple of police officer buddies of mine. I’ve been at it just over a month and a half, and I’m starting to see some results. I’ve lost a little weight and I’m starting to see some muscle definition where I had none before, particularly in my arms.

I’ve also gotten where I can ride over 5 miles in 20 minutes on the stationary bike (with some resistance programmed) and power walk about a mile and a half in 20 minutes on the treadmill. I even am able to do the elliptical slider — which is sort of a cross country a ski machine — for at least 10 minutes without getting too tired.

The Stairmaster, however, still ain’t my thing. The last time I did it, I managed somehow to get in 10 minutes on the darn thing.

But that was before Tom entered the picture. Shawn, one of the two friends with whom I work out, had been talking about wanting to kick up our exercise routines a notch, particularly with the weight training. Though Mooch, our other friend, was not at workout today, Shawn and I hit the weights with Tom, who has more muscles than any white boy should have a right to have.

Since Tuesday is our bicep day, Tom put us through the paces with a series of dumbell exercises and over handed and under-handed curls with barbells. It was quick-paced and intense, and I’m feeling quite a bit of stiffness in my arms and chest as a result, especially since Shawn put me through quite a chest workout on Monday.

Keeping in mind the importance of drinking plenty of water while exercising, we regularly hit the water fountain at the gym to keep from dehydrating. We finished up the weight training and then headed over to the cardio room to hit the Stairmaster. During our workouts each week, we try to rotate the cardio portion among the treadmill, stationary bike, elliptical slider and Stairmaster. As I said before, the first three are not too taxing on me… the Stairmaster again whipped my butt.

All of us got on the darn thing, and I was okay for the first four or five minutes. Then, the interval training program kicked in, and, before long, I was sweating like a melting popsicle, my legs were Jell-O and I was getting light-headed. Did I mention that I was also breathing quite heavily?

I managed to get through 10 minutes only through sheer determination… and the fact that Shawn was pushing me onward. But I don’t care what anyone says… the Stairmaster is not — and probably will never be — my friend. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded taking a sledgehammer to the darn thing, but I probably would have ended up whacking myself on the head.

Maybe as I continue the workouts I’ll be able to conquer it. But I’m not betting on it happening any time in the near future.

You ever have one of those days where you are so incredibly tired that you find yourself nodding off at work? I do. In fact, it used to happen quite frequently and still does every now and then.

I’ll be plugging away at the computer and then the next thing you know, I’m out like a light. My staff knows it happens, my boss knows it happens… most of the time they just pull my office door close and let me catch a few winks.

There’s just one teeny-weeny problem: I snore. LOUDLY. I’m fairly sure it’s an inherited trait. Both my parents snore a good bit, and my maternal grandmother, who weighs all of 105 pounds soaking wet, is the champ. She can rattle the walls, though I’m old I come pretty close. I’m told I sound somewhat like a congested Texas steer when I nod off. Even closing my office door when I nod off at work doesn’t always stifle the noise of me cutting logs.

There are certain little elfs around my office who like to sneak pictures of me in repose, print them out and post them around the office. There are at least two posted on the wall behind my staffers’ desks. But I guess them’s the breaks when you nod off at work.

Luckily, this has not been a regular occurrence with my recent exercise program. I’ve found myself having more energy throughout the day and sleeping better at night, so that is likely making a difference.

Still, given the fact that I’ve been busy both in and out of the office, there’s a chance where a nap at my desk may happen. I only hope more pictures don’t turn up on the walls around the building…

OK, it’s been almost eight months since I last updated this blog, and I haven’t done so for various and sundry reasons. But since I am making major lifestyle changes, I figured, what the heck, it’s time to start posting again…

After months of talking about it, getting pumped up and a several false starts, I have at long last joined a fitness club and begun an exercise program. This is something I have needed to do for years now; the last time I was on a regular fitness program, I actually kept some weight off.

The last couple of years, though, I let myself go. When I stepped on the scales at my parents’ house at Christmas and topped the scales at more than 270 pounds, I knew it was time to lose some weight. Of course, work issues got in the way — namely being seriously short-staffed for about three and a half months — and I didn’t get started on the workout program.

So I made changes in other ways. I have completely cut out all sugared soft drinks — namely regular Coke, Dr. Pepper and Sprite — and began to exercise more willpower over what I eat and when I eat. In other words, no more late night runs to McDonald’s for a burger and fries when I am working late. I’ve also tried to cut back on sweets intake, though i might partake of a peppermint or two and the occasional bit of chocolate.

I actually have had some success with this… when I stepped on the scales at the gym the other day, I weighed in at around 255. It made me feel better about what I was doing.

But all the dieting in the world doesn’t mean diddly-squat without regular exercise. It’s not that I abhor working out; most of the times it’s quite enjoyable. My problem is accountability. If I have someone who will call me up and say, “Brian, get your butt to the gym,” I’ll go. I’ll work out and enjoy it.

Enter Shawn and Mooch. These two police officers have started on a regular workout program together. The plan is to do a midday workout five days a week, with the option of doing more on weekends. Combining weight training and cardiovascular/aerobic exercise, my workouts for the first few months will be focusing on burning fat and toning the muscles I do have. Building more muscle will come once I have dropped a good bit of weight.

One day we’re working tricep, back and shoulder muscles; other days we’re working chest and abdominals and biceps and legs. We’ll do 20 to 25 minutes of weight exercises, followed by 20 to 25 minutes of cardio training. Shawn and Mooch — who are both in fairly good shape, especially Mooch — put me through a good workout on Friday, but I did discover that the Stairmaster is not my friend. The plan was do 10 minutes on the machine, followed by 10 minutes or so on the treadmill.

I lasted all of 2 minutes on the Stairmaster before my legs and butt were hurting so bad I couldn’t move. So i did 20 minutes of power walking with some jogging on the treadmill, which felt great. I mean, hey, I am only just beginning the workout program… why kill myself the first day? Luckily, Shawn and Mooch agreed, but I had to agree to work my way up to doing the Stairmaster. That’s a good goal to have. I need to build up my physical endurance.

Now Shawn and Mooch had warned me I’d be sore within a day after the workout, but, honestly, it was not as bad as I had anticipated. So I went back to the gym for a good cardio workout on the stationary bike and treadmill, which helped loosen me up a bit. I can honestly say that I have had more energy the past two days and have slept better at night as a result of the exercise. My two friends have pledged to keep me accountable, and I know they will.

So hopefully by Christmas, I’ll be 25 to 30 pounds lighter and in much better shape. So I guess I’d better make friends with the Stairmaster…

Like most men, I hate shopping unless I’m going after something I know I have to have or I’m going after specific items for a specific person, I usually try to avoid shopping centers, especially during at peak times of the day or during certain seasons.

There are some exceptions, of course. Friends of mine can tell you that if you get me into a music or video store or book store, you’ll have to come find me an hour or so later. Those stores are the few places where I DO like to shop.

And then there are some retailers — particularly some chain stores usually only found at malls — where you wonder how the owners of the establishments are able to keep in business.

There’s one store, in particular, that specializes in “gift” items of a questionable nature, including such items as dolls or action figures that make a certain crude noise when you pull its finger.

Why would anyone need that item? What’s even more frightening is someone actually was PAID to develop that product.

Many mail-order companies specialize in some of those same chintzy, rather unusual novelty items that they proudly tout in regular catalog mailings to customers. A co-worker of mine — who shall remain nameless — receives a few these catalogs.

Now, I don’t know if she’s ever purchased anything from the catalogs. In fact, knowing her, she probably finds the humor in just thumbing through the pages and laughing at some of the more unusual items, all the while thinking: “Who got paid to think this stuff up?”

One such catalogue she received recently and proceeded to share with us at the office had several sterling examples of those products that you view in the catalogue, scratch your head and wonder why anyone would buy it, sort of like those Nascar commemorative plates that you hear comedian Jeff Foxworthy discuss in one of his routines.

Here are several I found while thumbing through a catalogue during a lull in activity at the office the other day:
• A “Hot Dog Dachshund Figurine” — Now, I know that dachshunds are often referred to as “wiener dogs” because of their shape resembling a Bryan Beefy Jumbo. But who would want a statuette of Dachshund inside a hot dog bun on their mantle?
• The “Pregnant Belly T-shirt” — This one had me doing a double take when I looked at the catalogue photo, which has a woman, obviously with child, wearing a white T-shirt with the artwork not placed on the chest area like most T-shirts, but on the womb.
What’s the artwork, you may ask? A cartoon of a baby crammed into the womb. Hmmmm….
• The “Sport Ball 3-D Window Shatter Cling” — This ingenious product is designed to be affixed to a window, mirror, computer screen, etc., resembling a baseball, golf ball or softball that has been “hit through” glass and gotten stuck.
Again, I just rub my chin and say, “Hmmmm….”
• The “Arbor Door Mural” — The catalogue description says it best on this one: “Transform a door into a lush garden view that lends the illusion of enlarging your living space. No watering needed — your tranquil retreat is always in full bloom.”
Yeah, right, until the mural starts peeling off the door. Wouldn’t it just be easier to have a set of French doors instead?
• The “Mr. Moose Candy Dispenser” — Crafted to resemble a hand-carved moose, the dispenser releases its candy with a gear toward the rear. If you need further description, let’s just say, you press down on the moose’s tail, and the candy — jelly beans, M & M’s, whatever — is released through the hindquarters.
I don’t think I need to draw you a picture. But can I just say, “Ewwww…”
• The “Tropical Fish and Seashell Toilet Seats” — This is just what I want to look at when I’m going to the restroom… fish under my posterior.
• The “Gas Pump Liquor Dispenser” — This one needs no further description. Just use your imagination.
• Various and sundry novelty T-Shirts — Now I must admit some of these are pretty cute, though I would never be caught dead wearing one in public. Among my personal favorites in this particular catalogue are the shirts emblazoned with such slogans as “This is not a beer gut; it’s a protective covering for my rock hard abs,” “Be kind to your children; they pick your nursing home,” “Team effort: A lot of people doing what I say” and “I live in my own little world, but it’s OK… they know me here.”
And, last, but certainly not least, my favorite items…
• The “Butt/Face Towel and Soap” — The catalogue says these products “add humor to bath time” and are “sure to amuse houseguests.” I think if someone is actually crazy enough to buy them, then they must be having a little trouble in the shower.

I just amazes me that people actually get paid to think up this stuff. But, hey, it’s a living.

I’m beginning to think the animals in Oktibbeha County have it in for me.
Some of you might remember that I wrote a few months ago about seeing many an animal during my evening drives home to my little cottage in the Craig Springs area, including one incident where I literally chased the Easter bunny down the dirt road leading to my home.
While amusing, that incident pales in comparison to the situation in which I found myself one night this past week. Once again, I had a chance encounter with some wildlife that proved to be interesting, if not a bit nerve-wracking for a few moments.
What does this scenario involve, you might ask? Two words: Flying armadillo.
I know that creates a rather perplexing picture in your mind, but let me assure you, armadilloes can fly. I saw it happen Wednesday night… honest!
Lately, I have been apt to take old Highway 25 South as the first leg of my route from work each evening because (a) I don’t have to drive west to the bypass and then head south and (b) there is usually little traffic on the road at night.
Wednesday night, after another long day, I was making my way down old 25, following — but not too close — what I believe was a later-model black Pontiac Grand Am or Chevy. We’re heading down 25 and beginning to pick up speed a bit as we head out of town.
Then it happens.
As we round the curve just past Sand Road right before you reach Emerson Family School, I see the Grand Am appear to jerk a bit.
As this happens an armadillo comes flying to the left of the Grand Am toward my little Kia Rio.
From what I could tell, the armadillo had been hit by the Grand Am and was now spinning madly through the air toward me. The darn thing looked like a spinning football thrown by a quarterback on game day, only I am no receiver and had no desire to have armadillo innards all over the front of my car.
So, I swerved a bit to try to miss the deadly projectile and for a second or two lost control of the car.
But I’d heard a thump on the left front end as I swerved. I’d still hit the armadillo with my bumper as it came careening toward me.
The whole time, I just knew I was going to have — as Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltraine on “The Dukes of Hazzard” would say — a “horrendous crash.”
I could picture myself explaining the scenario to a responding police officer — most of whom I know by name — with the statement: “Well, officer, it all started when this armadillo came flying at me…”
So, afraid I’d end up in a ditch, I quickly jerked the steering wheel and managed to keep the car going.
Since it was rather late, I decided against stopping the car to check whether any innards were on the front bumper and just kept going. Luckily, when I arrived home and turned on the front porch light, there was nary an innard to be found — the armadillo had apparently hit my bumper with it’s hard shell back. Phew!
But that’s not the end of the story.
After restoring my breathing pattern to its normal rate in the aftermath of the flying armadillo encounter, I continued driving south on Old 25 until reaching the new section of the highway right where the four-lane ends.
I turned south onto the new roadway to continue heading toward Craig Springs, only to encounter Bambi’s mother attempting to jump across the road right at the point it continues to narrow into two lanes.
Luckily, I saw her in enough time to click my bright lights on and honk the horn profusely, sending mother deer back into the woods several yards away from the road shoulder. Another “horrendous crash” had been averted.
Or so I thought.
I managed to make it to Craig Springs Road and then drive the two and a half miles to York Road, where I live. It was there that I almost made mincemeat out of yet another bunny.
Right as I rounded the last curve to approach my driveway, Thumper jumps across the road in front me, sending my foot to the brake pedal and my car skidding few feet on the gravel road.
Luckily, Thumper again escaped unharmed.
After a third animal encounter in 20 minutes, I was exhausted. I pulled up to the house, got out of the car, immediately went inside and jumped in bed.
Only what sleep I did get that night was punctuated by repeated dreams of… you guessed it… flying armadilloes… AAARGH!
Just to note… I really do love animals. I just don’t understand why so many critters want to meet me via the hood of my car.

You know, I think I’ve finally had enough of the reality TV craze. Just when you think those idiots at the network level can’t stoop any lower, they do. Every new reality show that comes out seems to become even more exploitive than the last. I mean, there’s only so much titillation that we need on the airwaves today.

Even the granddaddy of all reality shows — MTV’s "The Real World" — gets by on nothing more than the T & A factor, these days. "Survivor," thankfully, has managed to stay somewhat true to its original concept, but there have been so many other copycat shows that have followed, and each seems to sink lower and lower into the depths of human depravity and showcase the absolute worst in human nature.

There are just some things one just doesn’t want to see on television, especially if there isn’t just a broader purpose behind it. Being provocative is one thing if its showcasing something in a manner that educates or expands horizons. But most reality shows seem to push the limits of good taste these days. What’s really sad is that someone actually gets paid to develop that crap.

Me, I long for the return of the sitcom and the continuing evolution of the drama. Some shows — even venerable dramas like "ER," which was once my favorite show — have run their course and need to go buh-bye. Let’s see something truly original on television, something that sparks the same of type of watercooler discussion that "Dallas" did in its heyday.

Of course, shows like "Desperate Housewives," "Alias" and "Lost" are the exception. I’ve watched all three and like them all. We just need a few more of them and some comedies with the sophistication, humor and consistency of "Friends" or "Cheers." Amen!

Until then, I’m going to catch the few quality shows that are on when I can and stick to my other shows on DVD.

I must be insane…

I finish the run of a summer show at SCT Saturday night, start band camp at Mississippi State on Sunday and still manage to work afternoons at the newspaper during the week. I must be a glutton for punishment.

Strangely, though, I go through this every August. I’ve been doing the summer show at SCT for seven years now, and I love it. In fact, I’m always down when it ends. One of my castmates from this year’s show, who also happens to be a fraternity brother, summed the experience up perfectly on his blog at karyhead.blogspot.com.

But the SCT show’s over now and I’m now in rehearsals of a different sort — teaching drill and marching fundamentals for the 270-member Famous Maroon Band. It’s almost torture for some… spending three hours in the hot sun every morning and three hours being attacked by mosquitoes each night for a week helping college musicians learn the formations that make up the pregame and halftime shows for the year. I’ll admit it’s hot and I sweat A LOT — usually dropping a few pounds during the week — but I love working band camp and helping with the band during the fall. It’s a way for me to give back to my alma mater, and it keeps my slightly-graying head somewhat young.

Band camp, while a lot of work for the students and the staff, is also a lot of fun. As in the “American Pie” movies, plenty goes on that becomes the stuff of stories that begin with Alyson Hannigan’s now-famous line: “This one time, at band camp…”

For example, there are several traditions associated with the FMB, including having the freshman and transfer members of the band — all the newbies — learn the words to “Hail, State” and perform it for the “old heads” at the end of the week. There’s also a little ditty called “The Fire Engine Report” that they learn. The performance of both serves as an initiation of sorts into the FMB and helps maintain a long-standing tradition.

That’s not to say band camp isn’t without its funny moments.
• During the teaching of drill, one of the directors usually says something that can — and usually is — interpreted as something suggestive. During the teaching of the patriotic show a couple of years ago, one director told the band to go back to a previous formation so that a certain alumni assistant — yours truly — could show members of the Army and Air Force ROTC how to propertly unfurl the 40-yard by 20-yard American flag as part of the show’s finale.
I believe the exact phrase was “Go back to the beginning of the ‘Battle Hymn’ set so Brian Hawkins can show the ROTC how to whip it out.” That one is still being talked about.
• The drumline is always good a few shenanigans. One day during the week, the entire percussion section — women included — attends the morning rehearsal dressed in wife-beater tank tops and boxer shorts (usually with the proper undergarments underneath). Others can’t be discussed in great detail, but let’s say they sometimes involve nothing but socks.
• Band members often wear T-shirts with various and sundry band jokes on them, some often VERY suggestive. A few of my favorites include one with the picture of a trumpet or other wind instrument on it that says “Band Camp Blows,” another worn my members of the trombone section that reads “Trombone players do it in seven positions” (if you know anything about trombones, you’ll know why this is funny) and, my personal favorite… “Drummers beat it all day long.”

But these are but a few of the funny things about band camp. Despite perceptions of many that band folks are nerds (OK, some are), band members can throw down with the best of them. In fact, the final marching rehearsal on Friday morning is always a hoot to see how many band members are still smarting from the “ice cream socials” of the previous evening.

It’s gonna be a good year for the FMB this year, and you can bet the funny stuff will keep happening…

I’m sure I’ll have another band camp story for you soon…

Hello, children…

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted… Things have been busier than grandma sitting on a whoopee cushion the last couple of weeks…

Our new show at Starkville Community Theatre — the one I mentioned two posts ago — opened this week, and we’ve gotten a great response from our audiences. After seven years of doing the summer musical revue at SCT, I still find it as creatively and vocally challenging as ever. This year’s show — with it’s movie music theme — has to be the most technically demanding production ever for our crew, not to mention the most vocally (and, at times, physically) demanding for the cast. I’ve taken to chugging copious amounts of water after the show and beginning around noon the next day to make sure I’m ready for that evening’s performance.

Of course the drawback is that by the time the show starts, I’m running to the dressing room bathroom every few numbers because that water has coursed its way through my system. But if it means keeping my voice in good shape, I’ll survive it.

At any rate, we’re having fun, though not without a few snafus and backstage antics. During the “Sister Act II” sequence on our cold opening night (before a friends and family audience), a toddler broke free of his mama and toddled his way onto stage. It was all the cast could do not to start laughing during “Joyful, Joyful,” but M.J. — who managed to grab the child before he ran backstage — covered well.

Then of course, there was the freak thunderstorm that hit during the show, causing the lights to flicker for a few minutes. Thankfully, the power did not go out.

Of course, last night — our official opening night — was not without its fun, too. While Lyle and M.J. were on stage performing “Mockingbird,” most of the male members of the cast were backstage doing some serious bump and grind dancing with the female members of the crew and a few select women in the cast. Thank goodness no one had a video camera!
At any rate, we’re having a blast onstage. So if you’re around, come see the show and pay the $25 ticket price to enjoy the performance and champagne/dessert reception that follows. You’re essentially getting the equivalent of a full-length Broadway musical and eats, too, at a significantly cheaper price.

So until next time….

Peace, love and happiness…

Brian

Have you ever had a song stuck in your head that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get it out?

This happens to me on a regular basis. I’ll get some inane tune running through my head and I’ll go through my day either humming or singing the darn thing. Usually, it happens to be the first song I hear when the clock radio goes off every morning.

Now if it’s a song I like, it’s no big deal. I actually don’t mind having that song in my head. It keeps me a little bit on the perky side. Now if it’s a song I can’t stand or one that has been so overplayed on the radio that I no longer like it, it’s… “Houston, we have a problem…”

A couple of years ago, I ran into this problem. No matter what time I set my alarm clock on a particular morning, the first song played on the radio when I woke up was “Oops! I Did It Again” by Britney Spears. Now at the time, I, for some reason or another, was somewhat enamored with her and I actually bought the album on which this particular diddy was released. But after waking up for more than a month to “Oops…,” I got tired of the song VERY quickly.

In fact, I drove my co-workers absolutely bonkers because I would walk around the office humming the darn song over and over. It was like a CD player stuck in endless repeat mode. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the tune out of my mind. It also drove me insane.

So, bearing that in mind, here is my list of annoying songs I hope I never, ever, ever, ever, ever get stuck in my head again:
• “Barbie Girl” by Aqua… Featuring Minnie-Mouse-on-helium-vocals, his one ranks right up there with “Oops…”
• Any song that talks about “poo, poo, poo” anywhere in the lyrics. I think the particular song I’m referring to is by Outkast and it’s called “Roses” or “Caroline.”
• Any Michael Jackson song released after the “Dangerous” album, or when he REALLY became an utter freakazoid.
• That Spice Girls song “Wannabe”… No, I don’t want to hear what you want, what you really, really want…
• Hanson’s rendition of “O Holy Night” from about five years ago… it’s like listening to fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard… Some musical acts should never be allowed to record certain Christmas songs…

There are songs out there that I know of, but can’t recall at the current time. Suffice it to say, if any of those above or others I don’t like were to pop into my head, I would be screwed for the rest of the day… and If I get screwed by an awful song… I’m takin’ everybody else down with me…
Happy Thursday….

BLH

P.S. If anyone has any they’d like to add to my list above, feel free to post a comment or send me an e-mail…