What does that mean?
Actually, it doesn't mean shit. Certification to most just means that you studied really hard for a test, learned that stuff to pass the test, passed the test and then promptly forgot everything you learned. That's pretty much what I did. I couldn't do half the stuff I learned today. I don't really want to either.
So this weekend was pretty uneventful. It was heaven! My redneck Filipino husband built himself a deer blind. Basically it's a wooden box he'll stand in and kill deer when they come close. Well, it has a couple windows. He actually did a pretty good job at it which leads me to ask again, who is this man? Everyday he surprises me with another talent. Now don't get me wrong, I took shop in school. Hey, there were some cute guys in the class and the girl to boy ratio was always a cool 1:5. But ask me to make a wooden picture frame and I'll just go get some sticks and a hot glue gun. I don't remember shit about that.
I'm sure I could remember things I've learned in the past but the information just clicking on the fly, ain't really my forte. Is that just a Jeanie thing?
People are constantly amazing me with the amount of information they retain. The English language and how to write it is one of them. I graduated in 1992 and rocked English class. It was one of my favorite subjects. Dur. How could it not be? But ask me what a preposition is and I'm gonna embarrass myself. About the only thing I ever retained in English class....is how to read. I can spot mistakes in books but can't spot my own.
One of my least favorite things about English class was trying to find the symbolism in a story. The word "symbolism" is kind of like the word "priortizer" to me. I hate it. Why does a book have to have symbolism? Why can't I just read a book and understand the concept instead of finding the hidden meaning behind it? A book for me is an escape. A trip to the unknown away from the reality of my life. Word in some places is agents are looking for books with symbolism. Seriously? Are we writing classics now that some poor 12th grader is gonna roll their eyes at in 15 years? I don't really want to write a classic.
I have a "friend" who shall remain nameless, that writes. And when I say writes, I mean he really writes. His stories whether short or long are the epitome of symbolism. As an adult that chooses to read what she wants to read, I have to admit that I wish I could write like that. And even though his stories or books have no vampires or werewolves in them, he can write a mean story. Which brings me back to amazement of the skills people retain.
I love when people surprise me and make me want to be a better person. Whether it be a better writer or a better....carpenter, I'm paying attention.
Have a great Monday. My eyes are finally back to what they're supposed to look like. I have to take these giant capsules of Omega-3 and all I keep tasting is fish. It's fantastic. (sarcasm)
If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.
Showing posts with label redneck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label redneck. Show all posts
2/18/10
Redneck Filipino
Ah yes, I hope I never run out of things to say because if I do, just shoot me. I've mentioned in my "biography" that I'm married. I even mentioned the husband yesterday. Let me properly introduce you because it's not very nice not to.
He's a dad. He's a brother. He's a son. He's a police officer. He's an ex-Marine. He's a hunter. And finally, he's a friend.
Okay, on paper, he's quite the man. Ah, who am I kidding? In person, he's quite the man too. But with every man, there are some flaws. Some of them are cute. Some of them? Not so cute.
He's a great dad. His little girls have him wrapped around their tiny, skinny fingers. I feel kind of sorry for him sometimes because he's so whipped, it's sometimes pathetic. I've often wondered if I had a son, would I be as whipped?
He's a great brother. He has a sister and a brother. They are both younger so they look up to him. He was the first one to graduate high school. He was the first one to begin his career in law enforcement. He was the first one to get married. He was the first one to purchase his first home. He is the example of what to do. I'm sure it's quite annoying to them in a way but I'm also sure they appreciate them.
He's a very good son. His parents are a little tiring with their life decisions. They truly are great parents though. They love their kids like parents should love their kids.
And here is where we come to who he is. To be honest with you, I am sometimes confused at to who I married sometimes. Being a police officer, he's got quite the ego. Being an ex-Marine, multiply that ego by a thousand. Being a hunter, well, actually, this is the strange part yet so fitting. Here's a conversation to prove why it's fitting.
Him: Did you see that French guy ask Apollo Ohno for help when he slipped on the ice?
Me: Did he? (Yeah, I totally fell for this)
Him: Of course he did, the French always ask the Americans for help. Any minute now he's going to blame Apollo for his slip. God, I hate the French!
Me: Who else do you hate?
Him: Canada.
Me: Canada? Jeez, they're the most gentle country in this world.
Him: Exactly, they don't do anything for us. They're a bunch of wimps. I hate Italians too.
Me: Seriously, my question should've been who you don't hate.
Him: Oh, that's easy. I don't hate Australians. I hate New Zealand though.
Me: It's practically the same country. What did New Zealand do to you?
Him: They try too hard to be Australia.
This conversation could've been at least an all-nighter but I'll spare you anymore ridiculousness. The kicker here? He's Filipino! My husband was born here so he's really Filipino American but he's technically a foreigner....who hates foreigners. He's a freaking redneck!
Side note and a confession. I am also a redneck and damn proud of it. There is nothing wrong with being a redneck. Well....maybe a couple things but those are the rednecks we do not speak of.
So here is my husband. We've been together for over twenty years. We've been married for over thirteen years. He's a dad, a brother, a son, an ex-Marine, a police officer, a friend and a husband.
He's a redneck Filipino.
He is NOT my cousin though. I actually love Canada and New Zealand.
If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.
He's a dad. He's a brother. He's a son. He's a police officer. He's an ex-Marine. He's a hunter. And finally, he's a friend.
Okay, on paper, he's quite the man. Ah, who am I kidding? In person, he's quite the man too. But with every man, there are some flaws. Some of them are cute. Some of them? Not so cute.
He's a great dad. His little girls have him wrapped around their tiny, skinny fingers. I feel kind of sorry for him sometimes because he's so whipped, it's sometimes pathetic. I've often wondered if I had a son, would I be as whipped?
He's a great brother. He has a sister and a brother. They are both younger so they look up to him. He was the first one to graduate high school. He was the first one to begin his career in law enforcement. He was the first one to get married. He was the first one to purchase his first home. He is the example of what to do. I'm sure it's quite annoying to them in a way but I'm also sure they appreciate them.
He's a very good son. His parents are a little tiring with their life decisions. They truly are great parents though. They love their kids like parents should love their kids.
And here is where we come to who he is. To be honest with you, I am sometimes confused at to who I married sometimes. Being a police officer, he's got quite the ego. Being an ex-Marine, multiply that ego by a thousand. Being a hunter, well, actually, this is the strange part yet so fitting. Here's a conversation to prove why it's fitting.
Him: Did you see that French guy ask Apollo Ohno for help when he slipped on the ice?
Me: Did he? (Yeah, I totally fell for this)
Him: Of course he did, the French always ask the Americans for help. Any minute now he's going to blame Apollo for his slip. God, I hate the French!
Me: Who else do you hate?
Him: Canada.
Me: Canada? Jeez, they're the most gentle country in this world.
Him: Exactly, they don't do anything for us. They're a bunch of wimps. I hate Italians too.
Me: Seriously, my question should've been who you don't hate.
Him: Oh, that's easy. I don't hate Australians. I hate New Zealand though.
Me: It's practically the same country. What did New Zealand do to you?
Him: They try too hard to be Australia.
This conversation could've been at least an all-nighter but I'll spare you anymore ridiculousness. The kicker here? He's Filipino! My husband was born here so he's really Filipino American but he's technically a foreigner....who hates foreigners. He's a freaking redneck!
Side note and a confession. I am also a redneck and damn proud of it. There is nothing wrong with being a redneck. Well....maybe a couple things but those are the rednecks we do not speak of.
So here is my husband. We've been together for over twenty years. We've been married for over thirteen years. He's a dad, a brother, a son, an ex-Marine, a police officer, a friend and a husband.
He's a redneck Filipino.
He is NOT my cousin though. I actually love Canada and New Zealand.
If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.
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