Yesterday afternoon, my dad and I decided to go to Fort Loudon's yearly Trade Faire and Re-enactment after spending a relatively boring day at home discussing what we should and shouldn't do with our free time. You see, Dad likes to go places accessible only by trail, and as for me, well....call me a big baby if you want, but I like to go on a nice, leisurely walk that doesn't require much effort. No vertical paths up an ungodly steep and rocky trail (Rocky Top, I'm lookin' at you!) or any open fields without shade trees for me. And so, after much debate, I finally suggested that we go to Fort Loudon and take a gander at their re-enactment, which, without fail, is usually awesome; this year was no exception.
Yeah, it was hotter than blue blazes at the Fort and the parking lot was knee deep in tourists looking for an educational experience worth their while. As Dad and I made our way to the Visitor's Center, we were greeted by the annoying stares of wonderment and chatters of fascination from those damn Yankees in Hawaiian T-shirts and sun visors who squealed vehemently every time they seen a re-enactor dressed in full Redcoat regalia and carrying a musket in one hand and dress sword in the other. It's a wonder if they didn't wet themselves with excitement!
Anyway, the activities we seen were pretty cool. They had a sword-swallower named Otto who could literally cram 3 rapiers down his windpipe without gagging. I wondered to myself, "How can he do that? I can't even keep my mouth open long enough for the dentist to clean my teeth, much less do an x-ray with one of those yucky film thingies they make you hold in between your teeth...."
Otto drew a pretty impressive crowd and was a big hit with the kids. Dad even thought he was cool--that's saying something! We went on into the Fort and saw a whole slew of people in period clothing, playing the part of Colonial men and women in their daily routines. There were soldiers, Indians, doctors, and blacksmiths among the ranks, playing their parts masterfully, pretending as if they were stuck in the 1700s, oblivious to our time period. Many of these people also ran souvenir shops, auctions, and even played music (the Irish band was a laugh riot!) for everyone. Long story short, I'm officially broke because well.....I spent all of my money of souvenirs--I got a pretty green and black beaded necklace, an eagle claw necklace, and a flimsy Chinese fan. Sadly, I ran out of money before I managed to glance at a Celtic shop that sold these beautiful hand-made purses.

20.) If the world is supposed to be round, then home come is it that we see it as flat?
19.) What is chicken-fried steak? Beef or poultry?
18.) Why are dogs called "man's best friend", when cats are portrayed as disgusting, selfish vermin who only care for their own benefit? Who would be your best friend if you're allergic to them? What if someone is a "cat person"?
17.) If a tree fell in the woods and no one was in the immediate area, will it still make a sound?
16.) Who really shot JR? Did Chuck Norris?
15.) If you(God) are a DJ and life was a dance floor, then what would be on your Ipod's playlist? (Something tells me that the Big Guy is a 70s fan.)
14.) What purpose do mosqutios serve other than to annoy people? The same purpose as the IRS or a telemarketer?
13.) Why is Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, Gossip Girl, The Office, American Idol, and My Name is Earl even popular? Are Americans so ideologically deprived of all reality that they must stoop down to this level in order to be entertained?
12.) Why did the chicken cross the road? There has to be an interesting story behind that one.
11.) Do you get offended if something that conveys blasphemy is brought up on TV? (Gay relationships, racial slurs, anti-Christian remarks, etc.) Or do you just sit there and let the small-town conservative blowhards get their way or else you're really gonna catch it during Sunday services?
10.) If someone can fly around the world in 80 days via a hot air balloon, then why can't we send a man to Mars?
9.) How come is it that whenever I walk into Wal-Mart, the greeter smiles and waves at me, but when I enter American Eagle, they watch me like a hawk?
8.) They say that it takes a village to raise a child, so why can't a child raise a village? If it can be done in Lord of the Flies, then surely it can be done here....
7.) Who really wrote the Beowulf poem? I'd like to shake his or her hand.
6.) Who are these people that are running for City Council in Madisonville? Did Uncle Sam pull them out of his ass one day?
5.) How come is it that when I get a picture taken, I appear to be 10 pounds heavier, but when I look in the mirror at home, I look 10 pounds lighter?
4.) Why can't men get a visit from "Aunt Flo"? I want them to suffer as much as I do whenever I'm on my period!
3.) How can some girls get more boyfriends than more people have shoes? Are they THAT helpless to where they can't depend on themselves to live? (Dear God, I'm glad I'm single!)
2.) When humans express their blase toward a certain subject, they always make the comment, "Like I give a rat's ass". But, when rats are in the same situation, what do they say? "Like I give a human's ass"? Would it convey the same meaning?
1.) Finally: Corn poop--explain THAT to me!

It's Miss A here, and I'm one happy little woman. Just a couple of days ago, myself, along with the entire freshman class, was invited to spend 3 blissfully agonizing days at Tennessee Wesleyan College's Freshman Orientation activities.
Like many incoming freshmen, I was a little afraid, maybe even mortified at the thought of starting all over again in the bottom of the school hierarchy, as well as being leery of senior hazing. However, my fears were temporarily lifted after I had decided to sit with and chat up a few old friends from my old high school in Madisonville. All of them were doing fine, but all means. One girl had cut her hair and dyed it maroon (ooookay), while another had gotten married over the summer; this guy who was originally a religious zealot at our school became what can only be described as a "man whore", and finally, a seemingly nice girl and her similarly unassuming best friend became the biggest potheads this side of Cheech and Chong.
Once I had briefly caught up with my high school alma-matter, things had grown silent on my side of the table in Sherman Hall's giant cafeteria. While everyone else was babbling incoherently about their summer conquests, I had nothing to vouch for. No tan, no pictures from the beach (I did have pictures from the Tellico Beach, though!), and no asinine rambling about getting drunk and wearing a lampshade like a douchbag. Almost immediately, I began to feel left out, realizing the major flaws in all of the people that I had been seeing for the past 13 years. I couldn't bring myself to talk about the things they talked about in the breakfast hall--I didn't have the stomach nor the low standards to even attempt talking like that. And so, after stuffing my face with a full bowl of cereal, a big helping of scrambled eggs, 2 small links of sausage, 3 pieces of bacon, and a pile of hash browns, I waddled away from that monstrously massive Sherman Hall in search of new people to hang out with. Yet, as my luck would have it, my old friends from Madisonville caught up with me, and decidedly followed me for the longest until we had to make for Townsend Auditorium's latest program, where I nodded off into La-La land.(Which isn't too weird for college kids.) After I woke up(as well as the majority of the kids in the auditorium), we had to go do a community service project for the so-called "Friendly City" of Athens in which we had to clean up a creek, or in my group's case, train tracks. It was hot, overly tiring, and all I wanted was a Coke to drink. Needless to say, our group leaders only allowed us to get a small bottle of water, only on the condition that we cleaned a set amount on the tracks without causing trouble. My group and I, which consisted of a computer science major, a math major, and a soon-to-be librarian was responsible for finding a lot of the most interesting things. We found a beautiful, tri-colored spider,(when the guys saw the thing, they screamed at it and high-tailed it down the tracks. The girls, on the other hand, cooed and baby talked it without recognizing the potential threat that it posed toward them.), 2 needles, a crack pipe(with crack still in it!), a pair of musty old shoes, and a kiddie pool. My sources tell me that another group found an old stoplight, but at this time, I can't confirm it. Once we got finished with our community project, we boarded up on the bus and headed back for TWC, sweating profusily and stinking to high heaven, each of us praying endlessly to be dismissed early from Freshman Week. It was with shear luck that we had to suffer for another 30 minutes in Townsend Auditorium, reeking of several layers of dirt and sweat and yawning tirelessly as the Student Life lady rambled on for what seemed to be forever about the "wonderful job" we did on our community service project and how we should consider our services to be an honor in the name of Tennessee Wesleyan. I had to disagree, however. I love TWC as much as much as the next person, but....I hate the city of Athens with a purple passion for many reasons. One, it seems like none of the Athenians know where Madisonville is, although its a 25 minute drive away. Two, when I suggested to one of my new friends that we should go to the Tellico Beach and have lunch, she gave me the exact same look that a dog would when its cocking its head. What is up with these people, seriously?

In my mind, I can imagine my date, who I shall call Jay, pulling up on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, clad in a Billy Idol-esque outfit, his bleach blonde hair and sunglasses glittering brightly in the dim lighting of the trailer park's street lamps. He kicks the stand on his bike, flips of the sunglasses, and says¦�"Amanda!!!!"� He yells over the loud muffler of his 1987 Ford Ranger, which, at one time, was sky blue in Reagan's age and by Clinton's 2nd term had transformed into puke green. Similarly, when its beginning life had started in all its glory, that sweet girl used to purr like a kitten, but by 2008, she could barely bray like a mare. U.S. Marine Corps decals are spotted around dingy, rusty holes on the tailgate- the Ford logo had long since rotted away from existence. That old girl had seen more in its day than Joan Rivers, who, unlike that old truck, has aged gracefully. Sadly for me, his truck has a lift kit underneath it, complete with swampin' tires, making the climb to the passenger's side a mere 3 and a half feet off the ground, which is about 3\5 of my height. My dress could say the same in terms of being sad. The size I was promised by the lovely people at Amazon.com was a reasonable extra small; however, the tag told a completely different story: medium. The extra foot of dress ended up waterfalling over my little legs, causing my combat boots to be of no use to me. After managing to climb into the passenger's side, I accidentally slammed my dress in the door. By the time I noticed, it was too late. Jay was speeding like a bat out of you know where down the highway, not noticing the fibers in the flapping piece of dress unraveling wildly as we drove. Cars, transfer trailer trucks, and SUVs alike were swerving left and right: they were dodging the loose strings of my dress....great!

In my wildest daydreams, prom is seemingly magical to me. For the first time in a while, I'm actually dressed in a wardrobe that has far surpassed my parent's paychecks, and I look absolutely stunning, only first to my date, who is wearing a sharp, red "Flava-Flav" suit, sans giant clock. However, as I sit there looking out at the great spot in the road that is known as Alcoa, my guilt begins to overpower me like a ton of bricks. Mom and Dad almost literally handed me their pay checks in order for my night to be possible, but I kept refusing, saying that I only needed money for dinner. Instead, they kept insisting, saying(this is a direct quote, by the way), "Please, Amanda, don't screw up the most magical night of your young life like we did over 20 years ago. Would you like to spend prom night at Long John Silver's like we did? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your mother's little sister serve us fishsticks?" Almost immediately, I felt like screaming at Jay, telling him to stop the truck and take me home. If he asks why, I'll be honest with him: I don't want to spend my mom and dad's hard-earned money on prom. They've had talks of buying a plasma screen TV for weeks, and instead, they waste it all on a dress that I'm only going to wear once in my lifetime. By now, I feel like a loser wearing a semi-designer dress from Amazon.com. I can't even return it to get my money back like I can with all my nice outfits(funerals, mostly), so I guess I'm stuck now.......

As soon as we get to the Hilton, we are immediately struck with awe and only what I can assume is disapproval. Everyone is doing the "Solja Boy"(and how in evening wear, I don't know), but suddenly, they stop and gawk, as if they had never seen a 4'10 shrimp in a red dress with a huge oil stain on the bottom being escorted by a 6'3 newly pledged Marine who was trying his best to retain his boot-camp posture. We mirrored the motion and glared back at them mischieviously, causing more confusion than what was worth. Finally, I decided to break the silence by saying rather loudly, "Look, Jay, we're gods to them! They can't stop staring at us for one second!" Afterward, there was an awkward silence that had soon faded into the soft chirp of crickets and the slight twang of banjos. Grinning brightly, I looked up at Jay, knowing that my sadness was all in vain. I whispered under my breath and asked him a question that had been bugging me all evening, "Ready to rock like the Soviets are gonna get us?" Jay began to laugh and said, "Dang straight, sister. Should we ask everyone else to rock with us, too?" "Of course!" I said and looked in the direction of the DJ. "Hey, buddy, why don't you play some Motley Crue for us? While you're at it, ask all these suits if they wanna mosh, okay?"

What a magical evening.......

And if I don't see ya sooner, see ya later!!

Where are you?
I feel so lost inside this dark, cruel world without
the pure and bright walls you've built
around me.
Hold me close within your soul,
carry me in light
see to it that I'll never have to battle all of those in strife.
All that I have known, everthing I've trusted and allowed into
my heart has ripped itself astray
into a million little parts.
Please take me away from this place of hate,
from this place of pain.
Just for once, take it all away
for this time, I swear,
I'll strive for my redemption
and fight until the end
destroy hopelessness as it sleeps in its earthern lair.
I swear to avenge those lives lost,
the recycled deaths of society's rendition,
those hollow souls seeking ascension, ascension.
Spread their broken wings and fly, far far away into the liberated sky.
Sing your praises and songs of your redemption.....
My love, I fear for your future, I fear for your past
because with your departure, I fear this can't last.
I think back to the last time I held you close,
your eyes, they shined bright with dreaming.
You told me so much,
you bared out your soul
Promised to be near me,
Gave me the knowledge for all to know
But now that I hold you,
your eyes begin to die,
they've taken their purity, taken away their shine.
I try to revive what you had existed,
instead, you resisted, liked as you were.
My mind inside, the tears I've cried,
the false apprehension, the feeling of pride
Everything you had given has faded away,
leaving a shell of all that you were meant to be in its wake.
Can I grieve now?
Is that reality I see now?
My tears are falling, cold as hail
drenching your face, that ashen pale.
You looked up and smiled,
saying your last.
You can't say I love you,
but you love her instead....

copyright 2008 by Miss A the Ornery

If I don't see you sooner, I'll see you later!