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What you've all been waiting for...

Texasisms. Believe it or not, ha! actually Dallas is home to a really large, taj mahal shaped Ripley's Believe it of Not, but that's not what I am after, so stop distracting me. Believe it or not, Texans say some great things.

Sure, they use ya'll in place of the collective plural "you" or "you all," but there are much more subtle idiums which I have begun to appreciate and *gasp, adopt, by default, as if my hard drive is being reset, word by word, sllyable by painfully slowly spoken syllable--I am being converted.

My favorite Texasism so far is, "bless your heart." Now, you have to understand, this phrase is used in multiple contexts and the meaning must be derived from the context. A Texan might say, "Oh well, just bless your heart!" to their loved one upon receiving a gift, and then within the same breath use it to cushion the blow of an awkward situation, like telling someone their baby has an unfortunately misshapen head, "bless his heart!"

I love this phrase. I use it liberally and usually sub-consciously, unless you've seen the disappointing new release "Fools Gold," and then I do it unconsciously.

I've also be spending a lot of time with my co-worker Raquel, who, bless her heart, has been driving me all over Dallas County, introducing me to the community college advisors I'll be working with once she hands over her territory to me in September. Raquel has an alter ego who another co-worker, Andi, has dubbed "Rae Rae." Rae Rae is a 60 year old black man who makes anxious, warning statements like, "oh no, I's gonna hafta tell this boy to stop callin me." At which point all the office yells out, "Rae Rae!"
I was shadowing a counselor appointment with Raquel last week. She and I were speaking with a young man who just exited the army and was considering taking a civilian contactor position overseas because, as he explained, "I want to travel a bit while I'm not tied down and still single." To which, Rae Rae replied, "okay, just don't go sowin' no wild oats," and then Raquel was once again in the room, explaining his options to defer enrollment for up to three semesters...ah, priceless.

Texans also have brazenly blunt bumper stickers. In fact, Texans are so polite, that I think the only outlet they have to loose their true opinions is on the chrome bumpers of their Ford F-150s and Dodge Rams. My favorite is "I'm from Texas, what country are you from?"

Oh, and Travis, the liberals live IN the closet here. I've seen no democratic bumper stickers, aside from a few plastered on ultra fuel efficient hatchbacks in the UTA parking lot. I'm convinced that they actually bike to work for fear of driving their cars, and just use their parking space as a personal billboard.

If I was joking, it wouldn't be funny.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

I can't go outside. It's over 100 degrees, but that's not the problem; it's level orange air pollution. Flashing signs along my commute exort me to "limit my outside activities." I stiffle a laugh, sigh and wish I had worn my sequined red slippers this morning.

Two days ago I met my neighbor. Bryan presented as a pleasant man in his mid thirties, pleated khaki pants, shirt tucked in too securely with the tell tale IT security badge tethered around his neck. "Yes, I am your neighbor!" I over enthusiastically replied to his inquiry. Bryan, however, did not want to be my neighbor in the neighborly sense, he'd just seen me leave for an evening jaut and took the opportunity to ask me if I'm the one who plays bass thumping music at 10 p.m.?

Arrrghh....yes, thank you "Mr.Heckles," I'll try to keep it down.

For those of you who have virorously advised me to find community, don't worry--I'm visiting a church this weekend which hosts a friday night coffee house social. I'm forcing myself to go. Yeah, community!

To wrap up this randomly organized and ridiculously self-indulgent post, I've been meaning to share photos of some of the sights along my commute, i.e. my "hood." Yesterday I found a Whole Foods Store (Thank you God!) where upon took a new route home and at one point was smack dab between the new Dallas Cowboys stadium (which is in Arlington), the Texas Ranger's Ballpark, Hurricane Harbor (massive water park) and Six Flags Over Texas.

Enjoy the visual feast...

My First Fried Ball of Corn Bread

Apparently they're called "hush puppies." Yes, like the shoe brand. On the menu they were listed as simply "pups." They pack a satisfying superficial crunch, complemented by the soft doughy center which boasts both the traditional cornbready goodness with a hint of jalepeno.

My generous dinner companions also made sure that I sampled other local delicacies, such as gator tail and fried pickles. Now, unlike the hush puppies, which are in fact NOT silently deep fried doggie nuggets, the gator tail is in fact the deep fried tail of an alligator, served in portions not dissimilar to popcorn chicken but much chewier.

Now, for some naive reason, I'd imagined that fried pickles were somehow served whole. I recall visions of giant Vlasic's dills, deep fried and served across your plate like a banana slug. However, they are in fact ingeniously pre-sliced into delicate crinkle cut coins, deep fried to artery clogging perfection. I loved them.

Stairmaster, here I come!

Spraying for bugs

I came home to my apartment after a long week of work, and my eighth day of successful metroplex rushhour vehicular navigation (thank you Sally Nogivan---my GPS) to find a small yellow card on my counter. Considering I'd found a giant cockroach in that same spot the night prior, this miniscule, mass produced memo provoked no screams of terror nor tears of defeat. My apartment was sprayed for bugs. Thank you God!

Next move, spray myself. That's right, I sprayed the exposed areas of my body with "Off!" Skinfantastic (who really came up with that name?) Was I planning a trek into the woods or a camping trip along a lake? No, no--I just needed to check my e-mail. That's right, my e-mail.

Checking my e-mail means packing up the lap top to walk three blocks down to the Grenada Market, where I thriftfully utilize my public resources made available by an upscale sort of quickie mart. I sit outside, because I feel less conspicuous about the fact that I don't plan to buy anything. Thus, the bug spray.

I found out that cockroaches can also fly, and not just in Singapore, like my friend Joann informed me during a conversation we had post-incident last night. I think she was meaning to comfort me. My co-worker must have had similar intentions when she independently confirmed that "yeah, did you know that sometimes they fly too?"

I'm an obvious advocate for the procurement of knowledge, it's not just a paycheck, but seriously, the cliche, "ignorance is bliss" comes to mind.