The cat with no name


It happens like clockwork.

Within minutes of giving leave of the cat with no name, it returns.

It’s out there right now, laying underneath my red and tan beach chair as the apartment complex pool is filled with the shouts and laughter of kids on summer break with nowhere else to go.

It’s claimed the balcony as its own.

It started off innocently enough. With an open door as groceries were brought into the one-bedroom apartment.

It ventured in a few feet, investigating the dividing line between the carpet of the living room and the wood flooring of the kitchen. Its presence noticed, it darted back outside.

There was a collar, but no name.

Later, its curiosity got the best of it and it welcomed the offering of some Oscar Meyer bologna. Then again, again and again.

One morning brought my routine of opening the balcony door to let some cooler air in.

It also brought the cat. Ten feet couldn’t keep it away from more bologna.

I welcomed the company as I worked. Working from home can be a lonely experience, especially when it’s tax month.

Everytime I place the cat on my door, it returns. From doorway to balcony, in no time at all.

I’ve yet to see this incredible effort take place.

This is what happens you’re adopted by a cat with no name.

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A comedian asks for a volunteer….

NatashaWhen attending a comedy show, always be prepared for the headliner to have to use the restroom halfway through the set.

When this happens, they will ask for a volunteer from the audience to vamp for two minutes (“Does anybody have a talent?”)

Always raise your hand.

If someone asks for volunteers, just do it. Don’t think twice.

Raise. Your. Hand.

Especially if said comedian asking for a volunteer is Natasha Leggero.

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The circle is now complete: 10 years of Revenge of the Sith

star_wars_episode_three_ver2The year 2005: An elegant time in a more civilized movie age.

But that’s just my opinion.

It’s also my opinion that Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith is among my top five films ever.

I’m not going to bore you with the details of why I love Episode III as much as I do or why your anger toward it is misguided and will lead you down a dark path full of hate and suffering.

I’m just here to reminisce about May 19, 2005.

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The night I met The Avengers

AvengersThe day of May 4, 2012 was hectic.

It was the due date of my Theory of Knowledge final paper, the last and probably most stressful assignment of my junior year of college at Arkansas State University.

As soon as that was done, I would commence packing up my dorm room and squeezing all my belongings into my 1996 Oldsmobile Bravada for the return trip to Northwest Arkansas a few days later.

May 4th also brought the beginning of a three-day trip with my dad and two high school friends, Mason and Brian, to Talladega, Alabama for a full weekend of NASCAR racing.

But those were the least of my worries for May 4th.

No, my biggest concern was a little, pretentious movie titled, Marvel’s The Avengers. Continue reading

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Ninety Minutes with my Cable Guy



My cable guy was a month late.

No, not to install my cable. He arrived safely within the two-hour window of 5 – 7 p.m., which I had scheduled three weeks ago.

My cable guy, Carter, was born a month late, 24 years ago.

I found this out about 20-25 minutes into his install of my cable, internet and a phone service I won’t pay for (“Do you know how many times I hear that a day?”).

But it could have been worse. Continue reading

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The Office of Bonnie Thrasher

bonnie-thrasherThe first thing you noticed when you walked into the office of Bonnie Thrasher was that you couldn’t see much of it.

Her dwelling, located on the second floor of the Communications building, which I first visited during my freshman year at Arkansas State University in early 2010, was the epitome of  a journalist’s cubicle in a newsroom.

The wall was covered in credentials for college media conferences, plaques and pictures.

Then there were the newspapers. Continue reading

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Leonard Nimoy, 1931 – 2015

NimoyEveryone has their own Mount Rushmore.

I’m talking about the hypothetical mountain, located in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota that doesn’t have the faces of four presidents blasted and carved into its side.

The mountain we mentally anoint with create of our favorite actors, athletes, singers, etc., in their place.

I have a more specific Mount Rushmore. Continue reading

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