Monday, April 25, 2011
WILD video of the day
http://tv.yahoo.com/blog/guy-does-unbelievable-matrix-dance-on-britains-got-talent--2818
Any video that gets over 100,000 views in less than 24 hours has GOT to be worth viewing! This video is awesome although I believe this guy might be an alien. Razy Gogonea from Romania does this dance that looks (for real) like “The Matrix” and since it is a live talent event, there’s no computer enhancement. He appeared on the show "Britain's Got Talent" and apparently blew everyone away. Check it out!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Original Wild Hair
A wild hair is an idea that strikes out of nowhere and you just run with it. You don’t think about the consequences. It can be an impulse, a desire or just pure spontaneity. It is often accompanied by an exhibit of fearlessness. When you find a wild hair, you do not stop to feel fear, therefore fear does not stop you.
My first wild hair presented itself in the summer of 1964 at the age of 4 years old. I grew up in southern West Virginia and can still remember how big my small town felt. We lived in a small brick house that sat on top of a hill near town. One summer afternoon my father took my brother and I on a long walk to where our neighborhood met the edge of town. We stopped by the bowling alley where dad got change for the candy machine. I did not understand the concept of money. In fact, I thought the lady at the bowling alley just gave out coins for candy. I put my dime in the slot and had to pull the knob hard with both hands to extract a small package of M&Ms.
The next evening I was outside playing with my best friend Lisa. We were around the same age but I was taller, which gave me a very grown up and in charge feeling. On that summer afternoon, I got a wild hair. I told Lisa I knew of a place where we could get money for a candy machine. She was excited, and although she hesitated, she agreed to join me.
I remembered how to get to the Bowling Alley and was happy to see the same lady behind the counter, but when I asked her for money, she said no! Maybe she did not understand what I wanted. I asked again for some change for the candy machine. Again, she refused. I couldn’t understand what happened. Was I not as cute today? Afraid of losing face in front of my friend, I came up with another idea, or a wild hair as I like to call it. I remembered we passed by a shoe store on our way home the night before. So Lisa and I took off down the street to find it.
Pick-a-Way Shoes was on the corner of a busy street, and we made it to the store just before it got dark outside. We ran to the ladies shoe section where the two of us slipped our tiny feet into many pairs of ladies shoes. We tried on all sorts of styles and colors and hobbled back and forth down the aisle, kicking them off to try on another pair. Our shopping adventure was SO exciting … that is, until I looked up at the front door and saw my father walk in. I was frozen in my high heels at the sight of his angry face. I had never seen him with such a stern look. At that precise moment, I knew I was in BIG trouble.
As we walked home, my father told me how much trouble I was in and that I would be getting a spanking. I dreaded it like mad and had the entire walk to contemplate the pain I would soon feel. Our street was lined with worried neighbors who had been searching for the two missing little girls. Lisa’s parents grabbed her by the arm and marched her home. I ran into my house as fast as I could. I had to think of something fast. I grabbed the pillow off my bed and stuffed it into my pants. Maybe my father wouldn’t notice, I thought, as I waited for the inevitable.
Dad walked into my room and once again reminded me all of the reasons why I was being punished. I think he said something like this was going to hurt him more than me but that did not make sense at the time. He removed the pillow that cushioned my bottom and whacked me a couple of times. I am sure the spanking stung, but then again I don’t really remember anything except for hurt pride, remorse and embarrassment.
When I started this blog, this was the first wild hair story that came to mind. The adventure part of this story has always been a favorite childhood memory. No one got hurt when we went off exploring, although I imagine my father’s blood pressure was elevated for the time we were gone. I learned not to run off again. But to be truthful, I was born with a desire to take off and go and find spontaneous adventures. I guess sometimes all it takes is one wild hair. Goodness knows I’ve had my share.
My first wild hair presented itself in the summer of 1964 at the age of 4 years old. I grew up in southern West Virginia and can still remember how big my small town felt. We lived in a small brick house that sat on top of a hill near town. One summer afternoon my father took my brother and I on a long walk to where our neighborhood met the edge of town. We stopped by the bowling alley where dad got change for the candy machine. I did not understand the concept of money. In fact, I thought the lady at the bowling alley just gave out coins for candy. I put my dime in the slot and had to pull the knob hard with both hands to extract a small package of M&Ms.
The next evening I was outside playing with my best friend Lisa. We were around the same age but I was taller, which gave me a very grown up and in charge feeling. On that summer afternoon, I got a wild hair. I told Lisa I knew of a place where we could get money for a candy machine. She was excited, and although she hesitated, she agreed to join me.
I remembered how to get to the Bowling Alley and was happy to see the same lady behind the counter, but when I asked her for money, she said no! Maybe she did not understand what I wanted. I asked again for some change for the candy machine. Again, she refused. I couldn’t understand what happened. Was I not as cute today? Afraid of losing face in front of my friend, I came up with another idea, or a wild hair as I like to call it. I remembered we passed by a shoe store on our way home the night before. So Lisa and I took off down the street to find it.
Pick-a-Way Shoes was on the corner of a busy street, and we made it to the store just before it got dark outside. We ran to the ladies shoe section where the two of us slipped our tiny feet into many pairs of ladies shoes. We tried on all sorts of styles and colors and hobbled back and forth down the aisle, kicking them off to try on another pair. Our shopping adventure was SO exciting … that is, until I looked up at the front door and saw my father walk in. I was frozen in my high heels at the sight of his angry face. I had never seen him with such a stern look. At that precise moment, I knew I was in BIG trouble.
As we walked home, my father told me how much trouble I was in and that I would be getting a spanking. I dreaded it like mad and had the entire walk to contemplate the pain I would soon feel. Our street was lined with worried neighbors who had been searching for the two missing little girls. Lisa’s parents grabbed her by the arm and marched her home. I ran into my house as fast as I could. I had to think of something fast. I grabbed the pillow off my bed and stuffed it into my pants. Maybe my father wouldn’t notice, I thought, as I waited for the inevitable.
Dad walked into my room and once again reminded me all of the reasons why I was being punished. I think he said something like this was going to hurt him more than me but that did not make sense at the time. He removed the pillow that cushioned my bottom and whacked me a couple of times. I am sure the spanking stung, but then again I don’t really remember anything except for hurt pride, remorse and embarrassment.
When I started this blog, this was the first wild hair story that came to mind. The adventure part of this story has always been a favorite childhood memory. No one got hurt when we went off exploring, although I imagine my father’s blood pressure was elevated for the time we were gone. I learned not to run off again. But to be truthful, I was born with a desire to take off and go and find spontaneous adventures. I guess sometimes all it takes is one wild hair. Goodness knows I’ve had my share.
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