Say What?

This morning, we were all getting ready for the day and Mrs. Pheasantly was playing with son # 1 in the kitchen. She was speaking really silly and getting our son to laugh when he turned to her and said, "Mommy, talk nor-bul-ly, please".

So, do any of you happen to speak Norbul? Would you know if it is a romance language?

Who are these people?

The folks that come up with the next greatest baby product or service – who are these people? I can tell you that they certainly are NOT parents. I know this because of two reasons: a) once a parent has figured out how to get their baby to eat strained veggies that taste as bad as they look, well, their creative juices are kaput and b) these products and services stink almost as bad as the subjects they were designed for.

Let’s start off with the baby monitor. Any one who has been in close proximity to a newborn, let’s say within 3 city blocks, can tell you that these bundles of noise need no assistance in being heard. Yet someone took it upon themselves to invent a contraption that can broadcast the wails of a child. Why?! Who are these people? And who buys baby monitors? It’s certainly not the parents! Because once a parent has gotten their kid or kids asleep and has managed to fall a slumber as well, the last thing they need is the amplified sound of their baby crying just mere feet, nay, inches from their ears! Yeah, that’s just a fantastic idea. And God forbid if you get the receiver and the speaker mixed up and put them in the wrong rooms. Many an unsuspecting parent has done such a thing, thus allowing the kids to hear clearly the sounds coming from the parents’ bedroom. There just isn’t enough therapy to fix that blunder.

So now that baby and parent are awake, it’s time to get baby dressed. What to wear? What to wear? Fear not, because thanks to non-parent clothing designers, there is no shortage in cutesy-wootsey outfits and apparel to don upon said child. Who are these people? Whose idea was it to encourage parents to spend their hard earned cash to buy adorable clothes that will be put on some of the leakiest things known to mankind? Thou thinks I doth exaggerate too much? Really? There’s stuff coming from the rear, the front, and the top. A baby has 7 openings, 5 of which are prone to emit fluids and or solids without warning or provocation. And someone wants to dress it up? Wait, I’ll give you a moment, I know some of you are still doing the math thing. Okay, I suggest we design a onesie that is the equivalent of camouflage for babies. It will have all the shades of brown green and yellow. Thus, making it a challenge for anyone to determine what the child either did or did not eat, and whether it found purchase on the garment while it was on its way in or coming out.

And finally, the creators of baby websites: who are these people? Whose bright idea was it to create a place for manic minded parents that are numb from sleep deprivation to share their question or ideas with other like minded poor souls? I, personally, would like to thank m-heart-m 380 from Des Moines for her posting about how newborn poop smells like curried yogurt. She’s right…and thanks to her…I can no longer eat Indian food!

In summation, I deplore implore of you: If you know any designers or inventors of baby products or services, please ask them to cease their mayhem, to find new careers, and to leave it in the hands of those that know what others like them really need! As soon as we have an opportunity to catch a little shu… ZzZzZz

PS My plan is to deliver this during the next Toastmasters Humorous Speech Contest. I'll take any tips or suggestions for making this funnier.

I Can Now Say…

…I have performed on stage at the Improv! Yes, it’s true. However, no, I wasn’t doing stand-up. This past Saturday, I competed at the Division E Toastmasters Evaluation Contest.

First, I do believe a bit of a back-story is in order...

In a previous post, I provided the contents of a speech that I gave at my Toastmasters’ club Humorous Speech contest. I had also won the Evaluation Contest, which is where the contestants all listen to the same speech. Then they prepare their notes for five minutes and leave the room. Then, one-by-one, each contestant is called back into the room, given their notes, and they deliver a 2 to 3 minute evaluation. Winning both events meant I was to compete at the Area contest, where the winners from 5 or 6 clubs will compete. Our Area Contest was last Wednesday. I won the Evaluation Contest and came in 2nd with my Phoenix Speech for the Humorous Speech contest. So, this past Saturday I competed in the Division Contest, which consists of 7 area winners. The audience consisted of about 100 Toastmasters and guests. So how did I do?

Technically, I tied for 2nd place. The rules state that there are to be no ties, so a secret tie-breaking judge cast their ballot putting me into 3rd place. I’m not bothered by coming in 3rd place. Especially when you consider that it was third out of all the contestants that had competed and lost in the all the area and club contests prior. Not too shabby! And the best part, it was a great experience. When public speaking is a passion, one is never sorry for the chance to appear on stage, even if they don’t come in first.

What Happens in Vegas May Stay in Vegas…but Phoenix Ain’t no Vegas!

That is the title of the speech that I will be competing with this evening at my Toastmaster's humorous speech competition. The contest is at my club, and the winner goes on to compete at the area ( 7 clubs compete), and the the winner there goes on to compete at the division (5 areas) and the winner there goes on to compete at the district (10 divisions). Our district covers the state of Florida and the Bahamas. The speech is about going to Phoenix last weekend to attend the Toastmasters annual conference and International Speech Contest which has two more levels of competition than the humorous speech contest. Do you think that we like to compete, maybe just a little?

So, for your reading pleasure, here is my speech...

Last weekend I had the opportunity to watch our very own Jim Bussey compete in my first ever Toast Master International Speech Contest.

Last weekend I had the opportunity to visit Phoenix, Arizona for the very first time.

Last weekend I had the opportunity to:
learn the latest in traveling fashion
make a new special friend on an airplane in a special way
experience the joy of dry heat
experience a blazing fire…in my mouth

Madame Contest Master, Fellow Toast Masters…what happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in Phoenix becomes fodder for a humorous speech contest! In order to be in Phoenix, one must get to Phoenix so on Friday morning there I was at the airport. While waiting to board my plane in MIA, I heard this sound. [squeak, squeak, squeak]. It got louder. [squeak, squeak, squeak] I turned around expecting to see Norman Bates, or maybe a mouse...on steroids. But instead I saw these two precious suitcases. They were neon pink and had "Cinderella" plastered across the front of them. Naturally, I looked for the little girl that would have these suitcases. Nothing. Then I looked for maybe a little bit older of a girl. Nothing. Then I looked for maybe a young lady reliving her youth? Nothing. Instead I say a man. A tall rugged looking man. No one else. Just the man and his luggage approaching the gate agent. There was no daughter, no niece, no female child at all in his vicinity – just him. In fact the agent even asked if he was traveling with someone else, and he just walked off - alone with his pretty, pretty luggage and a special spring in his step.

So now I’m on the plane for the first leg of the trip. I was flying standby with another member of my Toastmasters club and we were grateful to be on the plane. Of course, we were seated separately and I was seated in the middle seat of my row. Nothing funny ever happens in the middle seat. Nothing exciting happens in the middle seat, except for when Troy is sitting in the middle seat! I was very tired, the air was stuffy, there was no movie – so I fell asleep. The thing is, when I woke up I realized I had snuggled my head on the shoulder (pause) of a really big guy next to me. Complete with spittle. He gave me a special look and I just knew he wanted my telephone number. Did I give it to him? [flutter eyelashes] A gentleman never tells.

Once we arrived in Phoenix I quickly departed the aircraft. When we exited the terminal and got outside, I realized that my traveling companion was hot! I mean smokin' hot! Of course at 112 degrees Fahrenheit even Donald Trump is hot. Yes ladies and gentlemen, 112 degrees. Of course [air quotes] they (who are they? The locals, the weathermen?) tell you, “Well, it’s a dry heat – so it’s not so bad”. Yeah, guess what – [air quotes] they’re lying. It is bad. It is unbearably bad. Oh and the whole “it’s not as bad as Miami” because there’s no humidity. Uh, no…the humidity is why we wrinkle less than they do. That damned dry air makes you shrivel up like a raisin in a big cereal bowl full of sand. Give me my 86 degrees with 112% humidity any day – at least my tongue doesn't feel like sandpaper.

But that’s not all the heat I was going to experience. Oh no. Apparently our friends in Phoenix are not content with just external unbearable heat. It seems they enjoy a raging inferno on the inside as well.

On our way to the hotel we stopped at a restaurant and I ordered an American classic: Macaroni & Cheese. I tend to like mild food and how could I go wrong with that? Ha! It had macaroni, it had cheese. It had also had Jalapenos, Scotch Bonnets, and Habaneras. It was served with a bottle of hot sauce and a damage waiver. Folks in Phoenix are crazy! That bowl of fire should've been called "Macaroni and oh please this is hot"! Bottom line: If you aren't crying at the end of a meal in Phoenix, then your meal consisted of water.

I’m not saying to not go to Phoenix, it’s a beautiful city. You'll have a great time as long you carry pink luggage, find the perfect airplane neighbor, go naked and most importantly bring a mini fire extinguisher for dinner. And always remember: What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in Phoenix could seriously hurt you!

When All You Have Is Lemons

The following is the text of a speech that I will be giving Wednesday night at my Toastmasters meeting. And yes, it is "mostly" true.




When I was growing up, and I’d find myself in a less than desirable situation, my mom would always offer me the same encouraging words of advice.

She would say: Son, when all you have is lemons, listen to me now, she’d demand, when God gives you lemons, here’s what you do, you make a tall glass of…Vodka on the rocks…..with a twist!

Oh wait, that wasn’t my mom. That was Auntie Mame. My mom would say to make lemonade. But do it quietly.

Life is a bittersweet journey. The sweet part of life is the many opportunities that one has to reach great heights from the lowest of lows. In other words: to make lemonade from sour lemons. The bitter part is when those opportunities are missed. In other words: when those lemons are discarded out of disappointment or regret.

When I was little boy I had wanted to run a lemonade stand. Maybe it was a result of my mom’s advice. One Saturday morning my mom and oldest brothers were asleep leaving me, aged 6, and my brother Wesley, aged 9, to our own devices and that was when I decided to open the Troy & Wesley Lemonade Stand Incorporated. I’d be the brains and my brother would be the brawn. I shared this brainstorm with my brother: The Troy & Wesley Lemonade Stand Incorporated. It must’ve been forty-five minutes later when he let me get up from the ground and we began our new business: the Wesley & Troy Lemonade Stand Incorporated.

This was when we met our first obstacle: We had no lemons. The second obstacle: We had no sugar. And while we were only 6 and 8, we were pretty sure that those were the key ingredients in making Lemonade. That was when we decided to improvise. Some may tell you that improvisation is a great skill to be used at every chance, but when making lemonade…not so much!

However, after selling my brother on the idea of the entrepreneurial successes that would lead to corner offices in our tree house, I had no other choice. Given a less than desirable situation, we had to make the best of it.

So, what did our mom have in the kitchen that was sour? After some foraging, we found apple vinegar. Now, this would work, we thought, because not only was vinegar sour, sort of, but it said “apple”. Apple is a fruit. Lemon is a fruit. We weren’t deviating from the original ingredients that much.

Now for something sweet. Honey would’ve been good but my mom was out of honey. We were starting to think my mom ought to go shopping more often. We kept looking. Corn Syrup. Hey, syrup is sweet. Check! We mixed vinegar, corn syrup and water together hoping to get a pseudo-lemonade.

After a few stirs, I was thinking that we might still be okay. I mean, the other kids in our neighborhood weren’t so smart. We did it! We made lemonade, sort of, okay not really, but we made something and, in the process of doing so, we had also made a huge mess. But we did it quietly. There was flour strewn across the kitchen floor and broken eggs on her range top. I am still not sure why we had so many ingredients out. But this was not time to stop and possibly reflect on what a mess we had made, it was time to sell, sell, sell! So my brother grabbed the Dixie cups and I grabbed the mixing bowl and poured into a pitcher. So, with our merchandise in hand, we headed out the back door. My mom would later explain it is not socially recommended to use a crystal pitcher from Williams-Sonoma to sell lemonade. Nor is it very good for your backside!

We came back home two hours later. Would you believe that not one person would buy our lemonade?! But that was okay, because we had fun! That was soon to end. Mom was waiting for us. My brother was made to clean up the kitchen, I was wondering who was looking out for me when my mom rationalized out loud that since the lemonade was my idea, I was going to drink it because in our house, nothing went to waste. After two glasses of the stuff, my mom took pity on me and let me throw the rest of the stuff out. I guess I should’ve remembered her compassion later when I got sick, in her bed.

On that Saturday, I managed to make a huge mess; I made the first of several failed attempts at being an entrepreneur, and created a memory that would bring smiles to faces almost thirty years later. Sure I couldn’t sit down for a week but it was all worth it. So the next time you are left with apple vinegar and corn syrup or you maybe all you have are lemons and sugar, I hope that you’ll remember this story and that you’ll make the best out of the situation. By advice from my attorney, I offer this DISCLAIMER: I will not be held responsible for any and all medical and/or legal ramifications. But I hope that won’t deter you because you should always make the best out of it when all you have is lemons.