I was hazed ... FINALLY!

I went through rush twice at Baylor and never got a bid from a fraternity. I got over it a long, long time ago ... but Saturday really helped put to rest any lingering issues I may have had with the rejection.

Months ago, I told my groomsmen and ushers to save the date this weekend for a possible overnight stay somewhere -- a dude ranch? fishing trip? But as the BIG DAY approached and time and money became less and less available, I readjusted my expectations -- and I handed it over to Lincoln and Hilburn to figure out.

What was I thinking?

Well, my groomsdudes and ushers picked me up at 3:00 pm at the new house. I wasn't sure what the plans were. I was blissfully going along for the ride and enjoying the fact that this was one thing that I did not have to plan or prepare for.

The guys arrived and I was told to dress warm. OK, I can do that. Next, I was told to put on Todd's iPod to drown out their conversations. OK, I can do that. Next, I was blindfolded. I can handle that. Then came a shirt that was slipped over my head as the guys chuckled. Knowing how loving and wholesome these guys are, I knew in my heart it didn't say anything offensive like "Hillary 2008" or "Gig 'Em Aggies!" on it.

Off we went as Mike and Todd walked poor lil' blind me to the car. I did my best to gauge where we were based on the turns we took, but I don't know the area well enough yet so I gave up by the time we were out of the neighborhood.

After what seemed like half an hour or more, we came to our mystery destination. Being shut off from the world around me and not interacting with others -- despite sensing their presence and hearing muffled conversations -- I finally understood what introverts feel like. Bless their hearts.

With my eyes closed, my other senses were heightened. Or at least, they were working really hard to give me some clues to my whereabouts. I could tell there was a lot of traffic, pedestrians walking by (laughing at me), and some sort of sweet smell in the air. Were we at a festival? The Car Show? Traders' Village? I was clueless.

We took another short walk seemingly right into traffic. Eventually we got to our final stop -- or at least MY final stop. The guys rallied around and cuffed me to a pole first, and then they did the unthinkable -- the sprayed something on my hair. What concerned me was that the aerosol substance smelled exactly like real spray paint -- like something you would spray on wood to permanently change its color. ("Seriously guys?" I thought. "Actually spray paint in my hair one week before the wedding? For the love!") But I laughed it off not wanting to be Debbie Downer in midst of all the fun.

Then the blindfold came off and I found my self in the middle of Galleria traffic at the intersection of Westheimer and Post Oak -- tied to a lamp post in the median with hot pink hair and shirt that said, "Need Money! Getting Married!"

Their victim in place, the guys took off for Starbucks to hang out and watch me panhandle. My first dollar came from a guy who slowed down enough to drop his contribution in my collection bucket and wish me "congratulations" as he proceeded with his left turn.

After that, the funds dried up. I even tried to hit up pedestrians as they crossed the street. It's the Galleria, so only about half of them spoke English. One young, nicely dressed couple with shopping bags and Starbucks coffee was pleasant and encouraging -- but they didn't cough up jack. "Come on! You're shopping in the Galleria with $4 coffee!" I pointed out. "You can spare something!" They weren't feeling very charitable.

Who knows how many cars passed by me during my stint as a panhandler. Remarkably, I would say only about 25% of the people stopped at the red light ever made eye-contact with me. There were a few who appeared to giggle at my predicament -- a METRO bus driver, a pick-up full of landscape workers, and two early twenty-something girls in a F-150 and a sticker of a rifle on the driver's window. But for the most part, people treated me as though I was about to wash their windshields with my own spit.

The guys called to inform me that they would free me once I raised $5. With just $1 in hand and people acting as though the recession had already hit, I was looking forward to the tan I would be getting. Might as well get comfortable -- and really start working it!

At one point, I took out my wallet and considered dropping in my own cash to buy my freedom. But I rejected the temptation. I wanted to earn this the honest all-American way -- by acting a fool and freeloading off of strangers.

Being an extrovert, it did trouble me that I did not see one person I knew. Surely, if somebody I knew drove by and saw me, wouldn't they have honked? Wouldn't they have circled around and fought Saturday traffic in the Galleria just to come back by to say "hello" and give to the cause? I mean, that IS the polite thing to do in such a situation. Ask Emily Post.

"STEVEN MURRAY!"

I had been found! Somebody in this huge metropolitan city had recognized me and was getting my attention. I looked around in all directions and finally saw the arms waving out of a car window. In the afternoon glare I couldn't quite tell who it was. All I knew was they were a few cars back in the turn lane by me and were obviously VERY excited to see me. In just a few moments I would find out who it was.

It was Amanda.

Turns out, she and LB were running errands and LB said she wanted Starbucks. Off they went toward the Starbucks near the scene of the crime -- the corner of Post Oak and Westheimer. (LB was in on it with my guys the whole time.) The light turned green and here she came grinning from ear to ear as she saw her fiance shamelessly begging for money.

While she and LB hung out with the guys, my sugar daddy came along. A young dude who was stopped at the light right next to me dropped in $8. He wished me "congratulations" as well and said he totally understood having recently been married himself. If it weren't for the #$%&@ ties holding me to the pole, I would have shook his hand.

I called the guys to tell them I had earned my freedom -- I had surpassed the $5 goal. I told them I would raise more if Amanda came out and stood there with me. Since she had her hair done up that morning to test out hairstyles for the wedding, she would be sure to get looks. Who wouldn't check out a beautiful woman in a hoodie, ripped jeans and an up-do?

Amanda crossed traffic and came to join me. Turns out, she came to rescue me to with scissors in hand. A car in the turn lane honked and waved a dollar out her window. Amanda proudly went to fetch it. I told Amanda we should stand there together for awhile and see how much cash we could pull in as a couple, but she wouldn't go for it. She cut the ties that bound me and off we went to meet up with LB and the guys.

So, about 19 years after it could have happened, I was finally hazed by my brothers. And it was good times!

This is NOT Comcastic

The Comcast dude just left our place after four hours of getting us set up. I'm assuming everything works. Time will tell if everything is Comcastic.

What is NOT Comcastic is that the technician apparently called some of his buddies and told him where he was working. I noticed a car waiting by the curb with a couple of other dudes in it. At first, I figured it was one of our new neighbors. But when the technician left, the driver of the other car got out and it was clear that they were friends.

What is really NOT Comcastic is this: before the friends' car pulled away, they dumped the leftovers of their McDonald's lunch on the street. Nice, huh?

OK ... I better shut down and go clean this up before our neighbors think we're "those people" who litter.

We'll take 12 Coca-Cola glasses, 1 country oil lamp, 2 rocking chairs and 1 country apple-scented candle

One of my most favorite co-workers at HFBC is Shirley. Originally from Diboll in deep East Texas, Shirley has an accent that arrives about two minutes before she does wherever she goes.

You may recall a previous post I made about her experience with OnStar. She had to cancel the service because everytime she called them the operator had to put her on hold while they found a specialized linguist to interpret what she was saying.

That's what makes a recent question she asked me all the more hilarious and endearing.

I ran into her at the cafe at church as I was leaving and she was standing in line. She and another employee stopped me to ask about the wedding and to share their excitement with me. As I walked away, Shirley asked, "Now, are you registered at Cracker Barrel?"

Actually, now that I live outside both loops, maybe we should register there!

The Eagle has Fallen

Today is Saturday, January 12 -- my first full day in our new home on Eagle Falls Street.

The good folks from Cantu Moving showed up at my townhouse on Friday at 9:00 am sharp. Too sharp, actually. I overslept and spent the first hour or so helping them move in my glasses and morning hair. Not my best look, but one of the guys said they were used to it. By 11:15 am, we were packed up and on the road. By 1:30 or so, the trucks were unloaded and I was starting to arrange the furniture. Amazing. To all of my friends out there reading this whom I did not ask to help me move (and that's all of you) -- you're welcome!

Life out here in the 'burbs is off to a fine start. Here's a recap of what I've experienced so far:

• The first "tragedy" from the move -- I dropped a candle in a glass jar on the kitchen floor. Shards all over the place. Nice.
• Amanda and I unpacked some things while Braden was at Parents' Night Out at HFBC. We decided to go get something to eat before picking him up. She recommended either an Italian place of some kind or Wing Stop. Since she was sportin' a polo shirt with her company logo embroidered on the front, we opted for Wing Stop. "Honey, you're dressed for wings," I had to tell her.
• Today, Braden (in socked feet) slipped on the wood floors and fell into one of the end tables. I was sure that he hit his head on the corner and that we would be finding the nearest emergency room sooner than expected. Turns out, he just bummed his knee and was fine after a minute or so. The wood floor, however, has a scratch to commemorate the first accident.
• This afternoon, we ordered Girl Scout cookies from a neighbor across the street. Amanda and Braden were here visiting this afternoon so the girl's mom gave us a rundown of who lives on the street and where all the kids are. Thin Mints have been ordered and all is right with the world!
• I fixed a leak behind the washing machine. Both faucets were dripping and managed to get the utility room floor all wet. My first thought was that I would have to go to Lowe's and figure out what part I needed to buy to fix it. Then, my eyes fell on a wrench laying out on the kitchen table and I had a sudden jolt of "do it yourself" confidence rush through me. A few good twists and the problem was fixed.
• Finally, I called to set up our cable with Comcast. Turns out, I cannot transfer my 713 home phone number to this part of town. We now have a 281 home phone number. Thank God I had already experienced giving up stakes in the ground and discovered the joy that can be found when we do. Otherwise, I may have cursed the woman out.

As I type this, Amanda is off getting a manicure and Braden is practicing his mad dance moves to "Cha Cha Slide" in the kitchen. He's brushing up for the reception. I've tought him how to replay the song on the iPod. He's wrapping up his fourth time through the song.

Just another day in the 'burbs!

A Worthy Cause

This story is heartwarming and inspiring. Amanda and I have decided to take an extra week off for our honeymoon to help out with the cause.

I love me some of this ...

As a follow-up to my last post ... tonight, as Braden and I were driving on the Katy Freeway at rush hour to meet Amanda somewhere, he busted out with, "I love me some Chick-Fil-A!" I think it was his way of dropping a hint about what he wanted for dinner.

Then, he warmed my heart with, "I love me some Steven!" Precious and adorable, right? Right.

Then, after going nowhere for awhile as we sat bumper-to-bumper with other frustrated commuters, he exclaimed, "I love me some traffic!"

Fuddruckers, Chick-Fil-A, traffic, and me. Either there's a pattern that I'm not seeing, or he just loves him some anything.

Like (soon to be) father, like son?

Here are a few random things that Braden has shared with us recently:

"I love me some Fuddruckers!" -- on our way to eat there with my parents. I'm trusting that FBA will straighten out his grammar if we don't do it first.

"You don't know my life!" -- in response to just about anything. For those who know the story, you'll recognize that as the punchline from a story Natalie White Kondratenko shared years ago. I wonder where he got that from?

"Well, actually ..." -- a phrase he actually uses correctly.

"Mommy, can I eat seeds?" -- clearly a sympathetic response to my recent bout with diverticulitis. He was about to eat sausage, and he remembered that I could not eat it at Candelari's fearing the fennel seeds inside.

"Steven is the best! Steven is the best!" -- OK, I just had to throw that in. Of course, I don't go around saying that so I'm not sure where he got that from.