Saturday, March 8, 2008

"Backhanded Compliments" or "It's a Freakin' White Undershirt!"

This weekend Heidi and I are up at the Grand Traverse Resort. There's this big youth conference/retreat thing with like 1200+ kids here. I'm speaking to the group for morning "devo's" (which is the cool student ministry way of saying "devotions.") It's sort of ironic that they booked me to do "devo's" because I hate calling them "devotions." It just seems like another thing we can check off our list for the day in order to be a "good Christian."

But that is not what this post is intended to be about. I was told that the devo's were optional, and that there would probably be anywhere from 50 to 200 students who came. I thought, cool...50 to 200 students who wanted to be at devotions. This could be good. Well, they changed the format, so that the devo's would be done on shifts. There would be two sessions, each identical. Which is cool, but I thought oh man, that will cut the group that I talk to each time, so it will be a potentially pretty small group each time. I was pleasantly surprised when at least a couple hundred...maybe even close to 300...students showed up for each session! Anyone who knows me knows that I get more and more comfortable the bigger the audience is.

So I gave my talk, did a couple worship tunes and called it a day. Now Heidi and I get to hang out with friends, hear Shane Claiborne talk, and enjoy Northern Michigan. However, I must take this opportunity to rant. I told a story about me wearing boxers and a wifebeater...it sort of had to do with the subject, but was more for entertainment purposes. A youth leader came up to me afterwards and said, "I really enjoyed the talk." I offered him a "thank you" but could tell that something else was on his mind. I could tell that he was a bit frustrated...he had that look of wanting to confront someone on something...you know, that sort of constipated look? I looked around and realized there was no one else around, so the frustrated, confrontational look was coming at me. I realized that I jumped in with the "thank you" before he offered the "but." What he was trying to say to me was, "I really enjoyed the talk, BUT you should really refrain from using the word 'wifebeater.'" I will not say what I wanted to do, because I'm pretty sure it is sinful. I just said "thanks" again and went to get my wife a bagel and some OJ.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

She Called Me Ned

At work, I'm responsible for collecting rent and depositing it in the bank. Our company uses LaSalle Bank, and I've noticed that the tellers are very friendly at LaSalle. They have all learned my name and welcome me by saying, "Hello Jake" when I approach their window. There is one lady, however, who never calls me by the correct name. When I first started going there, I told her my name was Jake. The next time I was in the bank she said, "Thanks, have a great day Drake!" I could have corrected her, but I thought it would be more fun to let her keep thinking my name was Drake. Until yesterday. I went in, made my deposit, and as she handed me my receipt, she said, "Have a great day NED." Now seriously! Ned?!?! I mean, who is named Ned these days? I can understand Drake...it at least rhymes with Jake...but Ned? And how did she get the idea that my name is Ned? I think the funniest part, however, is that she is so confident in addressing me by a name that isn't even close to Jake.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

You Learn Something New

Er, at least I learned something new yesterday.  I left the office around lunch time to go visit Heidi where she works.  I hung out for a bit, and as I was leaving, noticed some change under the seat of my car.  Incidentally, it was enough to buy lunch at the best hot dog establishment in the world.  Yes, that's right...YESTERDOG!!!  I happened to be in the area, so I swung through.  Luckily I found a parking meter with a few minutes left on it because the change I found under the seat was not enough to purchase both a hot dog and a parking spot.

So, as I stood in line waiting to order my regular Ultra-dog, the young arrogant high school preppie kid who surely went to East Grand Rapids high school and could have very easily replaced any of the leading cast members of American Pie (which was based on East Grand Rapids) proceeded to order a Cheddar-slut.  Now, I've had a Cheddar-dog, but I was curious as to what a Cheddar-slut was.  It wasn't on the menu.  So as the board full of hot dogs came up to the counter, I noticed one particular Cheddar-dog that had two hot dogs in it.  That's right, one bun, two wieners.  I think I now know what a Cheddar-slut is.  

Sunday, March 2, 2008

I Really Need to Post More

That's really all I want to say. My life has been so busy as of late that I rarely have time to write on here any more...and I miss it. So just over 2 1/2 months till Baby Blakeney comes. We had heard that sometimes at this stage of pregnancy, you can actually hear the baby's heartbeat through the mother's stomach. So Friday afternoon I laid my head on Heidi's stomach trying to hear the baby's heartbeat. As soon as I put my head there, the baby decided to kick. So, make note that it was the first time my kid hit me.