These days, you don’t have to search too hard to spot things, people or situations that are clearly disturbing. For example, take a look in the mirror. Find your butt. Now compare where it is currently to where it was three years ago—or even where it was last week. Disturbing, right? Oh, and what about pant sizes? Contrary to popular belief, your waist does not have a birthday each year that causes its size to increase in number. And just between you and me, if you’re able to keep track of the fact that you’re 48 because you wear a size 48, it is not a good thing. Disturbed yet? If not, take a long, hard look at your one measly little paycheck, and then compare that to the vast number of bills that you’ve stored out of sight in the freezer behind the frozen waffles. If that doesn’t just hit you in the gut and bring tears to your eyes, I’m not sure anything will.

From leaving the Laundromat and finding random thongs that never fit right and don’t even have labels to let you know which part is the front and which part is the back mixed in with your clean clothes, to realizing that the bottled coffee you just bought from the store is six months past due only after you’ve drunk it, disturbing occurrences just seem to be the norm. For instance, after a recent visit to Target, I’d taken my keys out of my pocket so that I could pop the trunk when a gust of wind blew what I thought was my receipt away. I panicked. I mean, you never know when you’ll have to return the 2-for-1, bacon-flavored dog biscuits you bought because, after you get home, you realize that you don’t even have a dog. And it’s not like you can keep them because you, yourself, aren’t even fond of dog biscuits after that very unfortunate incident when that first grader made you eat a handful of them in front of the monkey bars when you were in the fifth grade. Personally, I’m still scarred from that incident and I blame the parents—all of them!!!

Anyway, so I was running after this receipt, and I wasn’t even paying attention to the fact that my cart was rolling away and heading towards this beautiful, shiny, black BMW. Hmm, or maybe it was a red Ford. Let’s just say it was some sort of motor vehicle. At that point, I was dashing across the parking lot, and darting in front of cars that were honking at me as if they’d never tried to return something without a receipt. Some people are just sooooooooo not understanding. Miraculously, just as I was about to give up because I could feel the arthritis in my knees and chest beginning to act up because I wasn’t wearing my specially made orthopedic shoes, the wind calmed down a little. Breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off my brow, I pretended I was a super hero named Captain Target or Super Wal-Mart, and snuck up on the receipt without making a sound. It never stood a chance.

Feeling victorious, I snatched up the receipt and did a little jig as though I’d just made a touchdown. (For those of you who aren’t as sports savvy as I am, a touchdown is a bowling term that means you’ve knocked down at least two of the tennis rackets at the end of the golf course and struck out.) After I finished doing my dance, I scanned the receipt and realized that I’d paid way more than just $32.98 for my cart full of items. And although I wouldn’t have bet my life on it at that moment, I was pretty darned sure that I hadn’t bought any Vagisil, or maxi pads with wings during that shopping visit either. However, the most disturbing thing of all was that I’m not even what you’d call a heavy-flow kind of guy as one would’ve believed based on that fraudulent receipt that had attempted to disguise itself as mine. On my worst day, I’d say I’m moderate at most. That’s just an FYI in case anyone ever asks or it’s a question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Because I’m a good person, despite the receipt not being mine, I kept it just in case its original owner ever contacts me in an attempt to get it back. That’s just what we responsible people do.

In other disturbing news, recently I was enduring yet another two-hour ride from work when I saw what I thought was the cutest little dog with its head hanging out the window. I immediately wanted to pull over and order a puppy off EBay or pick one up from McDonalds. That moment passed when I remembered all the chewed shoes and remotes I’d endured when I did have a dog of my own. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t admire someone else’s. I sped up to get a better look, and to my horror, it wasn’t a cute little dog after all. It was a foot!!! I was just thankful I had my inhaler with me and that my window was rolled up in case there were any strange odors wafting from that monstrosity. OK people, here’s a hint: if your foot looks like a miniature poodle, you should probably keep it to yourself. Stop spreading fungus all over someone’s dashboard while airing out your size twenties at other people’s expense…and invest in some lotion and an industrial strength pair of toenail clippers while you’re at it!!!

Unfortunately, I can’t just point fingers at other people because of the disturbing things they do. I must be an adult and take some of the blame myself. In fact, one afternoon while driving home from the mall, I was repeatedly assaulted by a fly. Now I’m sure we can all agree that I’m a relatively, moderately attractive individual if you look at me from a right angle with the lights off and squint your eyes a little bit, but the fly didn’t care that I look like Casper the Friendly Ghost under fluorescent lighting. Despite all of the places it could have landed and did whatever it is that flies do, this fly wasn’t happy unless it was right on my cheek. Exasperated, I began singing “Vision of Love??? by Mariah Carey to get my mind off my antagonist. Just as I took a deep breath to hit the high note, I choked on something. Needless to say, the fly hasn’t been seen since. What really upset me about this incident was that I had stuck to my diet all day and it was the fly that took me over my daily calorie count. Jenny Craig was so pissed. Seriously, I thought I’d be expelled.

Lastly, a few days ago I finally reached the 300 friends mark on Facebook. I couldn’t have been prouder. I must say, people really start accepting you as a friend when you offer them Big Macs and gift cards along with the friend request. However, I’d like to think the extra stuff was just a bonus and that people would have eventually caved in and accepted my request whether I had bribed them or not. Anyway, I was so thrilled with my success that I clicked on my Granny’s page to share the news. I gasped as I saw that she had 640 friends after just signing up last week! To make matters worse, she rejected my friend request because she doesn’t associate with people who have such a small friends list. My own grandmother!!! Well, at least I can still see her pictures. Otherwise, I’d have no idea she’d gotten a new skull and crossbones tattoo for Mother’s Day. Maybe, I’ll try friending her again tomorrow. This time I’ll offer her two Big Macs.

Michael Rochelle

Access my full humor blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Access my website: http://www.justmichael.net

There comes a time in every little boy’s life when he realizes that there are certain things he needs to know in order to become a man. For some, this realization comes shortly after birth. Others recognize it when they reach their teens. And as for the rest of us, we’re still waiting for that memo to arrive. Maybe our “How to Be a Man for Dummies??? manuals got lost in the mail. Anyway, because of this, I’ve had to bear all those moments when someone puts me on the spot and asks me things that I allegedly should know or be able to do as a man. For example, “Did you watch the game last night???? “Could you go in that toolbox and bring me a screwdriver???? And my absolute favorite request, “Could you kill that mouse, spider, water bug, praying mantis, or (insert scary thing here) when you get a chance???? Well, in an effort to save my fellow men who didn’t receive their male instruction guides either, here’s my list of things every man should know…or at least pretend to know in public.

Since I’ve already mentioned sports, why don’t I start there? Dictionary.com defines sports as “an athletic activity requiring skill or physical prowess and often of a competitive nature, as racing, baseball, tennis, golf, bowling, wrestling, boxing, hunting, fishing, etc.??? I must admit that I was a little disappointed when I didn’t see knitting or basket weaving on that list. I guess it makes sense though since no balls are involved or anything. Furthermore, briskly knitting a Santa Claus sweater and matching gloves doesn’t make you break out into a sweat so I guess it’s definitely not a sport. However, apparently that is just the beginning of what you need to know as a man regarding sports. First of all, no matter what anyone tells you, basketball is not football. Allegedly, although both sports involve balls and running, they are too completely different games. Supposedly, one involves tackling each other after someone scores a free throw. Who knew?

Next, you must know everything about cars—even when you don’t. What I’ve found is that answering every question with a yes seems to score you points in the macho department. When someone asks if your SUV that uses $30 a day to go 2 miles is good on gas, just say yes and recommend that the person asking goes out and gets one immediately. If someone asks if you can change their oil or pump their gas, give them an authentic smile, nod your head, then rush their car to the nearest auto mechanic when they aren’t looking to get it done. Actually, as a man, you should probably have a mechanic on standby at all times just for these types of situations. I know I do. But if you can’t reach your mechanic by phone, text, email or messenger pigeon, have no fear. Just remember the first option that I demonstrated just the other day when someone asked me if I had hub cabs or rims. I smiled brightly, said yes, and the person has not asked me another car-related question since. See, this strategy really works!

Another thing real men must do is always be cool, calm, and collected. This means you should do a little lean and a dip when you walk, which is also known as the pimp stroll. If you need a demonstration, watch some old movies from the ‘70s, or just ask someone who looks relatively cool for a demonstration. If their walk looks reputable, then do exactly what they did. However, I do recommend practicing until your pimp walk comes naturally to you. Feel free to try out your new dip-and-lean every time you get an opportunity. In my opinion, church or the workplace present great chances to practice because it’s almost a guarantee that you’ll get immediate feedback. There’s nothing like a good pimp walk into a board meeting to get things off to a good start. Oh, and you get extra points if you’re wearing sunglasses.

While we’re on the subject of being cool, as a man, once you’ve achieved a cool persona, you must never break character for any reason. Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of this a few weeks ago when I was horrifically attacked by a renegade bumblebee in the parking lot at my job in front of a platoon of soldiers. At a time when I should have been my very manliest, my arms were flailing and I was ducking and diving while bobbing and weaving. I may have even yelped a few times before I dashed off towards my car with the bee hot on my trail. As painful as it is for me to mention this incident, I’m sharing it with you because I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. Had I known about the code of manliness, I would have just balled up my fist and duked it out with the bee like a man. If you ever find yourself in this situation and a bee hits you with a one-two punch and a sting, maintain your composure and never let it see you sweat. After all, it’s just a bee—even if you’re allergic.

Also, as a man, you should never—EVER—get excited about anything because the display of emotions is a female trait. Like Johnson & Johnson says, “No more tears!??? That said, whether you win a million dollars or you’re informed that your local coffee shop now sells Irish Cream lattes, just calmly say “whatever??? and take the offerings without so much as a smile. As a matter of fact, this should also be your standard response when some lucky female or gerbil accepts your marriage proposal. There is absolutely no reason to be all overjoyed during these types of occasions. If anything, just burp a few times until the sentimental moment passes. I mean, it’s not like she isn’t lucky to have such a manly man like yourself. Remember, you’re the person who handles all of the maintenance on the cars. However, if you must display some form of excitement, do it from the privacy of your own personal broom closet and no one will be the wiser.

On a serious note, the most important thing to remember about being a man is that there is no one definition or classification that should determine how we carry ourselves and how we are perceived by others. Men are like a variety pack. We come in various colors, shapes, and siz—never mind, this is a g-rated blog. Anyway, forget stereotypes and let people just be themselves. There is no need for a man to beat on his chest while lifting a 5-pound dumbbell over his head to prove that he’s worthy of the title of male. Regardless of whether our voices are as deep as the ocean or as high as college kids at a Friday night frat party, we are men by nature and that is all the validation we need. That said, if your husband wants to show off his muscles by wearing your pink halter top with the shimmering sparkles, you leave that stud muffin alone and let him be all that he can be. Just make sure he’s nowhere near a platoon of soldiers, and that there aren’t any bumblebees around.

Michael Rochelle

Access my full humor blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Access my website: http://www.justmichael.net

Two weeks ago I started a new job. As you may know, new jobs can be kind of, sort of, just a tad bit stressful. First, there’s the not knowing anything, which is worsened because you don’t know anything, which is then magnified by the fact that you don’t know anything. And if you’re like me, and you start this new job on a military base, then the stress level can be off the charts. Imagine working at a facility where virtually everyone has guns—except you. Imagine being a “civilian??? and having that label means that YOU are the foreign one. Lastly, picture, as a civilian, ranking lower than everyone currently enlisted, formerly enlisted, or who will ever join the military. By lunchtime on my first day, I had shined twelve sets of boots, washed two army trucks, ironed five uniforms, cleaned three toilet seats with my tie, and was used for target practice—and I work in accounting. You should have seen what they made the new members of the janitorial staff do. I won’t mention it here though. However, I will say that it’s probably illegal in at least 39 of the 50 states. Nonetheless, I was just happy that I hadn’t brought my toothbrush with me. If I had, I would probably still be there now scrubbing the roof.

Actually, my first day wasn’t so bad. Well, except for the part where I went to the vehicle registration office, which was staffed by police officers, to get a parking pass and learned that both my registration and insurance cards were expired. Oops!!! And let me tell you now, offering them donuts and coffee in exchange for them looking the other way and ignoring violations does not work. Don’t try it! In my experience, it just makes them put the cuffs on tighter. Also, I fumbled a couple times when being introduced to other staff members. For some reason, the only words I could think of were, “It’s nice to meet you.??? That was my response for everything—even if they asked me to repeat my name. “It’s nice to meet you,??? I’d say with a grin. With one of the managers, I’m sure I said it at least seven times before she decided that I was a lost cause. In my defense, I was nervous. And even if you repeat it twenty times, at least you get credit for being polite. Another habit I’ve picked up from working on a military base is calling everyone sir…even when I’m speaking to females. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, “That’s a nice dress, sir.???

Since parking on base is very limited, I have to get to work an hour and a half early if I want to find a spot on campus. My start time is 7:30 a.m. and I have to be there no later than 6:15 a.m. if I want a parking space that doesn’t have a sign threatening a mandatory life sentence if you park there without proper authorization and a signed note from the president and his mom. Seriously, if I get there one minute late, it’s like playing musical chairs with twenty cars aiming for the one remaining spot. However, even if I am the lucky one to get to the last spot first, because everyone else has guns, I’m always afraid to take it. I haven’t been to the gym in centuries, so there’s no way I’d be able to duck and roll out of the car and dart to the building in one piece. For me, it would be life or death. For them, it’s called a training exercise.

Four days after I started, I was sent over to the IT department to have my picture taken for my new badge. Because I had no idea it would take so long for this to be done, I’d worn my best clothes on the first day. The second and third day, my clothes were a few notches down from what I’d worn the first day. But by the fourth day, I was scraping the bottom of the barrel for outfits, my hair had started growing in from the fresh cut I’d gotten the weekend before, and a group of pimples had begun doing the Macarena right in the middle of my cheek. Despite all of this, I smiled like I’d just won a million dollars. As soon as the flash went off, I knew the photo wasn’t good. I was almost sure I hadn’t smoothed my eyebrows down, which was my fault for not flat ironing and applying some gel to them before I left for work. Immediately, I requested to have another one taken. After I was told that I couldn’t, I asked, “Would I win America’s Next Top Model with that picture???? The guy examined the photo, smiled, and responded, “No, but you might win America’s Next Top Deer Caught In Headlights.??? At first I was disappointed, but then I looked at the bright side: at least I could win something.

Even though I just finished school, I learned that you can receive life lessons from the oddest of places. Before I made the hour-long journey home one evening, I stopped at the Dunkin Donuts on base for a coffee. My first mistake was asking for a café mocha. Apparently, they only serve mocha lattes and have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to unless you order that specifically. Oh, and they don’t use the word “mocha??? to help guide you toward asking for the right item. Instead, they just look at you as if you have a knee cap on your forehead and let you figure it out for yourself. Once we got through that debacle, I asked the cashier if the drink was presweetened. She frowned and asked, “You want peach sweetener???? I shook my head and repeated my request. At this, she replied, “You need to learn how to talk better.??? I pondered this for a moment and then thanked her for the advice. I mean, just because I have a degree in English, doesn’t mean I can’t accept words of wisdom from the Dunkin Donut’s staff. I was just happy they didn’t charge me for both the lesson and the latte.

All in all, I’d say I’m doing just fine. Although I’m not actually a part of the armed forces, being in the presence of so many military personnel makes me feel an extreme sense of pride and fulfillment. For once, it seems as if I have a real sense of purpose. Due to this purpose, I now iron and shower every day as opposed to every other day because I can’t let America down. And because resources are limited, I’ve learned some handy skills like how to make a computer out of two thumb tacks and a nickel. Actually, I didn’t really need the nickel. I just added that part so I could have a faster start-up and so my YouTube videos would play in high definition. I’ve also learned to make do with what I have. If I’m fortunate enough to get coffee, I don’t expect lids, cream, sugar, or even water. In fact, chewing on coffee grinds give you more of a jolt than any Starbucks drink I’ve ever had. Lastly, I’ve learned to buy groceries for a month with just $0.53 and a bobby bin. Isn’t life great? Michael Rochelle is in the army now.

Michael Rochelle
Access my full blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Access my website: http://www.justmichael.net

It’s official. On January 10th, 2010, after 7 long years, I finally walked across the stage of a partially accredited university whose phone number I’d found on the wall of a Burger King bathroom and was handed a rolled up map disguised as my degree, patted on the back, and sent out into the world to be successful. Life is a very different place for college graduates. Suddenly you just want to use big words like “expeditious??? at all times to prove that you actually earned your degree. “Yes mam, I’d like a number 6 super-sized with a Diet Coke. If you could handle that request expeditiously, I’d greatly appreciate it.??? Yes, you get extra points if you can add an “ly??? to the end to make a long word even longer. Also, because I’m a college graduate, I’ve decided that it’s important for me to always look the part. Thus, I’ve started wearing a pair of Harry Potter glasses, which immediately raised my IQ by at least 10 points. However, I think that I’m going to have to take off this cap and gown at some point. After the first week, it started to smell. By the end of the second week, even a can of Febreze couldn’t freshen me up. And honestly, it’s getting way to hard to shower without this tassel-thingy getting in the way. Good thing I’ve learned to pull it back into a ponytail.

One of the most disappointing things about being a college graduate is that you don’t get better service at stores and restaurants for being so. I asked the fry guy for hot fries and tried to justify my request by showing him my cap and gown photo and he showed me his class ring and then told me his degree was in molecular biology and traffic cone placement. Let’s just say I had to make due with the cold fries. And don’t even get me started about Wal-Mart. There are absolutely no checkout lines dedicated to college graduates. Apparently, all they care about is whether you have 15 items or less. The other customers are no better. They have absolutely no respect and appreciation for my degree. The other day, I politely said to this lady, “Excuse me mam, I see you have 2 items and I have like 40, but do you mind if I scoot on ahead of you? I’m a college graduate.??? She just looked at me. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. No respect whatsoever.

Despite this, the experience hasn’t been a total disappointment. Honestly, I don’t know whether my parents, grandmother, or I enjoyed the ceremony more. In fact, I was shocked when they called my name and my mother knocked me out of the way so that she could walk across the stage in my place. Part of me was happy that this happened because she certainly got more applause than I did when I finally got to walk across the stage after she was escorted out of the building. It’s really amazing how many times a person can be tazered and still remain standing. I’m so proud of her. Now she’s an internet sensation on YouTube and in order for me to reach her, I have to talk to her publicist first. In that case, me saying I’m a college graduate does get me faster service than me just saying I’m her son. I have no idea why. Hopefully, at the next graduation program, the school will provide more security and run background and credit checks before admittance. You can’t just let anybody in these days. Then again, maybe it’s not there fault that they didn’t know that. After all, they are partially accredited.

Another awesome thing about the ceremony was the pictures my father took. The day before, I’d stopped by to show him how to use the camera. Of course, my mother didn’t need assistance. She had a one-time-use camera with 12 pictures left and figured that one or two pictures of my graduation would be more than enough in case anything more important came up. When it comes to rationing out pictures, my mother doesn’t play. In fact, on that same roll is a picture or two of my birth and at least five of the checkout girl at the beauty supply store. I can’t blame my mother though. The girl is nice and very photogenic. I’ll post pictures of her one day when my mom uses the remaining ten pictures. I figure that by the time I get married, have a couple kids, get a house, adopt a dog, release my book, and go on Oprah, that will probably be enough events for her to want to use up the rest of the roll and get the pictures developed. If not, we’ll just have to schedule some more life changing events. Maybe I could move to Iraq or something.

Anyway, I was so impressed by the pictures my father took. He didn’t get his thumb in any of the shots and even I make that mistake sometimes. You’re not going to believe this, but the photos he took with the lens cap off were even better. For those, I don’t have to pretend to know what was going on at that moment. “You see that black picture right there? If you turn off the lights and squint really hard, you’ll see me right there. You see me? I’m the one dropping it like it’s hot on the stage.??? Oh, and my dad did get some great shots of one of some guy’s back who was sitting a few rows ahead of him. With those pictures I say, “Ok, you see that guy’s back right there? Just pretend he isn’t sitting there. Yup, that’s me snatching the microphone from the speaker and giving a shout out to Ray-Ray and Pookie and dem.??? By the way, being a college graduate, I probably should no longer use words like “dem.??? From now on, even though it may require a little more breath, I’m going to use the full word—them.

I’d also like to note that having a degree in English does not mean that you can handle mathematical calculations any better. For some reason, everyone has decided to stop using their calculators to ask me if I know what one plus six equals. After using my fingers and toes—and sometimes those of friend or random person nearby—I still draw a blank every time. And in case you were wondering, I may have a college degree, but I am certainly not “Smarter Than A 5th Grader??? in any way, shape, or form. Also, being a college graduate doesn’t make you any better at shooting pool. I was in total shock when I lost my shirt and my new car to a four-year-old last week. I’m telling you, just because she wasn’t tall enough to see over the table, doesn’t mean she didn’t have skills. And between you and I, I’ve even gone so far as to stop calling it “pool??? because “billiards??? sounds so much smarter—and it’s even better when you say it with an English accent.

On a serious note, it was awesome to finally achieve that goal. The look of pride on my mom’s, dad’s, and grandmother’s faces that day was priceless. When I began that journey seven years ago, I had no idea that I’d enjoy the experience as much as I did and that I’d work so hard that I’d finish with a 3.849 on a 4.0 scale which enabled me to graduate with magna cum laude status (with great honor/praise). On top of that, two days later, even though we’re currently in the midst of hard times economically, I was offered an amazing opportunity with a new job in a new city that could bring me closer to my writing goals. Needless to say, this is a very good period for me and I’m looking forward to the road ahead. When I wrote, “New Year, New You??? a few weeks ago, I had no idea just how true that concept would be for me.

What I’d like to do now is challenge you to stretch yourself a little bit so that you can grow as well. As I’ve asked a few times before, what is that one goal you’ve always wanted to accomplish? Have you ever wanted to go to or finish school? Is there another line of work or another opportunity within your current job that you’d be happier in? Do you sometimes want to order steak instead of chicken? No matter what your goals are, aren’t YOU worth taking a shot at them? A good friend told me that I shouldn’t be afraid to do new things because what’s meant for me is for me. The same is true for you. There is always room to learn something new. There is always the potential to do and be better. What are you waiting on? As I told my former co-workers on my last day before I journeyed on to the new venture, never, ever, ever forget your value. See how smart I am?!?!

Michael Rochelle
Access my full blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Access my website: http://www.justmichael.net

So, I’m sitting in a Starbucks, behind a young female who is wearing a “Big Peckers??? t-shirt with the photo of a rooster with a huge beak and he’s winking at me. Ironically, this is the most interest I’ve been shown all year. At my own table, I’ve decided to try something new by ordering a café latte—it tastes like ash. I tried to salvage the drink by adding 10 or more packets of sugar, and in typical Michael fashion, in an attempt to be neat, I ended up with more sugar on the table than in my drink. I’m a mess, aren’t I? Oh, I failed to mention that my keyboard is now sticky. At any moment, one of the letters is going to get stuck and this whole blog will consist of all F’s. With my luck, that will be mistaken as my trying to communicate with terrorists and the government will swoop down from the ceiling and that will be the end of me and my blog. Wait a second. I know what you’re thinking. Why would the government be hiding in the ceiling of a Starbucks? Well, Starbucks is like on every corner. How else do you think the government knows everything? You don’t really think people are drinking that much coffee, do you? (Dear Government, I’m just joking. I’m too young and well moisturized to go to jail.)

Anyway, recently I’ve been all caught up in the idea of my impending graduation. This all started when I began receiving boatloads of notices about the ceremony from my school. At first, these notices were fun because they made things official and I could finally tell the world, “I’m not lying. I really am going to graduate. And my school thinks so too.??? Then I realized that all of the notices came with a formal threat and a price tag. “If you plan on graduating in the fall, submit an application along with a $30 fee,??? “If you want your cap and gown, submit an application with a $40 fee,??? and “If you want future emails telling you when and where the ceremony will take place, submit an application along with a $200 fee.??? Whereas I used to get all warm and fuzzy inside when the notices arrived, now I just get all warm and sweat a lot before I raise my hands over my head as my school goes through my wallet. One day I fear the notice is going to say, “We have your mother. If you want her returned to you in time to attend your little graduation, submit an application with a $1,000 fee.??? Yes, it really is like blackmail. Maybe I should call David Letterman to see what he would do.

Speaking of my mother, because she allegedly went through 43 months of labor to have me, I sometimes feel obligated to return the favor by answering the phone when she calls and by taking her around to interview the low-quality-care nursing homes I’ll be placing her in 20 years down the road. Hey, I’m doing my part. Some children don’t even give their parents any say. Don’t judge me! But I digress. So, I was picking up some DVDs that she’d ordered online from Wal-Mart when the alarm went off as I exited the store. I panicked as the store greeter approached me. I looked over my shoulder and saw my car off in the distance. For a brief moment, I thought about making a run for it. I’ve seen Cops. I was not ready for my close-up, and I was in no mood for a cavity search that day.

My underarms began to sweat as the elderly gentleman looked at me suspiciously and asked to see my bag. I handed it to him along with the receipt. He asked if I had electronics. I tried to speak, but my voice failed me. I just shook my head. He then asked for the names of the DVDs I’d purchased. Of course, I couldn’t remember. I mean, why should I have known the names of the DVDs just because I had paid for them and they were in my bag? The nerve! It wasn’t like I was on Jeopardy where I would get a prize for knowing the answer to those types of questions. I hadn’t studied. It wasn’t an exam. He looked at me skeptically and I explained that I was just picking them up for my mother but that everything in the bag was on the receipt. Just as I was about to demand my one phone call and to tell the greeter that I would take no further questions without my lawyer present, he let me go. Of course, the alarm went off again as I walked out the door. This time, I ran.

Speaking of running, I may need to incorporate more exercise into my daily routine—and not just when I’m running from the law. Recently I’ve been making more alterations to my clothes than a seamstress. In fact, one day at work I had to make a mad dash to the restroom with a pair of scissors so I could cut slits into my boxers because they were cutting off the circulation in my legs. Of course, I hated to ruin a nice pair of boxers, but it was either that, or have my legs amputated, and after some thought, I figured it’d be easier to buy new boxers than to buy new legs. I wouldn’t even know where to get new legs. On-line? Target? Family Dollar? I’ll just say this, they aren’t lying when they say that you’re metabolism starts to slow down as you get older. Here I am, enjoying the last weekend of my twenties and wondering if diet water and low-fat lettuce will be enough to sustain me for the rest of my life.

And, while we’re on the subject of age, I’ve learned that though we may get older in years, some of us never get older at heart. On the same day that I’d almost made my television debut on Cops, while pulled over on the side of the road, I saw a small turtle about to cross a six-lane highway. Immediately I went into hero mode and ran to save the turtle from what could have been its last stroll. Without thinking, I picked up the turtle by its shell, and somehow, instead of putting the turtle closer to the woods, I kinda sorta accidentally put it in the front seat of my car. For some reason I wanted to show my mother the turtle. Grinning, I called her to tell her about my new pet. Of course, my mommy said I couldn’t keep it because they carry germs and STDs. I told her that the turtle looked clean and that I was sure he’d used little turtle condoms, but she still said no. Thus, with all my hopes and dreams shattered, I put the turtle back in the woods, which I think was probably best for all of us. I already have plants and a fish that I sometimes neglect to feed, water and take out for walks. Because of this, I’m sure I’m just one phone call away from being reported to fish protective services. This is why I never let my fish use the phone, no matter how much he asks to.

Anyway, the moral of this story is to enjoy the grandness and the many wonders of life. I mean, one moment you’re about to go to jail for shoplifting at Wal-Mart, and the next you’re putting a wayward turtle back on the right track. Take a step back, smell the roses, and enjoy the sunny days while trying to find things to love about the rainy ones. Learn to find the humor in the small things because all of those small things put together equal all of the moments of your life. And ok, I’ll just say it. The other underlying moral of this story is, don’t do crack. However, I’m sure that was blatantly obvious.

Michael Rochelle

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