Okie(s) in Florida

And I’m not talking about with Ryan.

The other day, I went to working lunch with my boss.  We were meeting a young gentleman regarding some partnership opportunties.  I had never met this man before.

We meet, everyone shakes hands, and we head to our table.  We had a nice meeting and a good lunch, and then we head for the door and are on our way back to our offices.

This man hugs my boss, gives her a kiss on the cheek. Then he hugs me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

Excuse me?  I just met you.

I let it go and think it’s probably just his personality.  Whatever.

Then I meet one of our board members on Thursday.  She and I greet each other with a smile and a handshake.  But we end the meeting with her hugging me and kissing me on the cheek.

This is getting uncomfortable.

We had a golf tournament yesterday.  I bet I got hugged and kissed on the cheek by complete strangers maybe 20 times.

I have personal space.  I don’t like being hugged or kissed by people I don’t know.  I can’t even remember these people’s names and they’re kissing me like we’re old friends?!

I hear it’s a Florida thing.  I’m so uncomfortable about it, but what am I going to do?  I can’t just step back from their hug and stick out my paw for a handshake.  That’s rude.

Guess I’m going to have to get used to it.  Great.

-Kathryn

Yes, I am making a few changes around here. A little spring cleaning, if you will.

So hang with me as I tinker with the joint.

Since this knob resigned after accusations he ran a sex-slave operation in his Custer Co. jail, I’ve decided to launch a feature. If you click the link, you’ll see one of Oklahoma’s very own Andy Griffiths likes to wear a big ol’ hat.

Back in the day at The Oklahoman, I once did some checking into the state’s sheriffs association. We’d heard some accusations, can’t remember now what it was, and so I tried to do some checking, which is fairly difficult given that it’s not a public body.

That’s when I found the directory of sheriffs in Oklahoma. It is pure gold. The number of people with goofy hats, looking like a crooked Barney Fife is classic. So…I give you the first installment of Okies with Hats.

This proud member of law enforcement comes to you from Haskell Co., which has a population of about 13,000. His name is Manuel Ballard.

1) “Have you seen what those women in the Yearning for Zion polygamist compound in Texas are wearing? I must admit, I haven’t a clue where one would even find 17th century Pilgrim sportswear. I guess the town whore is the one showing her ankles. All my girlfriends would be ex-communicated for sporting form-fitting aprons.”

Click this link, fool.

2) “We want what’s best for the people of Chicago and of Illinois. We want what’s best for the Cubs and their fans everywhere. We also want what’s best for Tribune Co. That self-interest diminishes whatever credibility we would bring to this important discussion.”Three cheers to a fellow Tribune paper for doing the right thing and sitting this one out. Too bad not all newspapers can be so honest with their readers. I’ve been a part (not my current employer) where this just plain wasn’t the case. Why be honest with readers when your owner’s (or his/her buddies’) billions are at stake?

And this link, too……Fool.

3) Given it’s tornado season back home, I think these t-shirts from the great folks at The Lost Ogle are spot-on. Anyone who has lived in the viewing area of KWTV and Scary Gary will understand.

And finally, click this link…Fool.

Oklahoma City finally gets their chance to shine.

The NBA approved the relocation of the Seattle Supersonics to Oklahoma City this past week. It’s all over but the shoutin’ for Seattle. Or so it seems.

But I have a few questions:

1) How is Tulsa going to treat this team? I grew up in Tulsa, where people long looked down upon Oklahoma City as nothing but an old cow town. That was before Oklahoma City decided to remake itself.

I dated a girl whose parents epitomized the denial Tulsans had about their city. Her mother once blew a gasket because I pointed out the Captain Obvious things about Tulsa getting left behind. As I recall, the comments were linked to Tulsans voting down an attempt to build a brand new sparkling central library on land donated by a prominent T-town family.

Now Tulsa is building a pretty sweet arena. But they don’t really have anything to put in it. It’s not a whole lot unlike the white elephant they built in San Antonio.

NBA Commissioner David Stern thinks it should be an Oklahoma team. The ownership group and Oklahoma City mayor feel differently. I noticed the Tulsa World hardly paid attention to the development — at least on their Web site. So this should be fun to watch.

2) Even better is my curiosity toward how the team will be treated by The Oklahoman, OKC’s hometown newspaper and still the state’s largest in circulation. You see, the ownership group is led by the husband of the woman who is second-in-command of The Oklahoma Publishing Co. — wait, I guess I mean Chris Reen’s OPUBCO Communications Group (Sorry, but I can’t stand stupid corporate psychobabble, such as calling the newspaper things like a “communications vehicle”).

So will it get a critical eye — especially when they start dipping into the public’s money for incentives or arena renovations?

As late as this afternoon, I wasn’t sure what to write about next. Thank God I’m not a columnist.

My lunch with John and the Meganator provided decent fodder, considering it took some hour or so to bring us our sushi.

“It’s not like they have to cook it,” Meganator noted.

That’s what we get for going to a sushi place located in a parking garage.

But then I stopped at Whole Foods on the way home. At this Whole Foods, they have something called a “Lifestyle Center.” I’ve never been quite brave enough to check it out.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Whole Foods. They have the greatest meat aisle in the world and people-watching can be fun.

I digress.

I walk up to the market and have to walk past this lifestyle whatever-you-call-it place. The doors are open. I hear some noises:

Boom. Boom. Bad-da-da-dunk.

What in the world is that? Sounds like drums…

And then I saw it.

A bunch of people sitting in a circle, banging on drums. They were having a drum circle. God I love hippies.

What made this hippie sighting classic is the sign out front.

Community drum circle. 7-9 p.m. Admission: $7.

You gotta really want to be a hippie to pay $7 to bang on a drum in a circle with a bunch of other people.

I always love it when my home state ends up in the news. Question — why is it always for things getting destroyed, either man- or weather-caused, or stupid shit?

Like this.

When I saw the AP version on Drudge, I decided to make a pre-emptive strike with co-workers and e-mailed the story. Also pointed out the ten gallon hat atop this knob, and took it one step further: I pointed out that most rural Oklahoma sheriffs can’t seem to get elected without a dumbass hat atop their dome.

Like here, here and here.

Our reputation is so bad that coworker Meganator asked, “Does everyone wear one? Did you have a hat like that?” I don’t think she was kidding.

Seriously.

And a few minutes later, up pops an e-mail from Brian H. with the subject “Man, you Okies really know how to party…”

I didn’t even have to open the e-mail to know what it’s about. I sent him the NewsOK link — thank God I didn’t show him Wimgo (saving myself more WTFs) — and he responded, “Good lord. Y’all are crazy over there.”

He doesn’t even know.

I like women. That’s why I married one.

But sometimes the habits of women amuse me. Today, while waiting on the elevator for the parking garage, a woman about my age was also standing in the small foyer. She was wearing this flowery dress thing, a little low-cut (no, I am not being a pervert you jerks — this detail’s importance comes in a bit), a small half-sweater thingy that all you girlies wear these days, and heels.

There’s a sign on the wall reminding you of the floor on which you park.

I look down, minding my own business. When I look up, she’s attempting to use a faint reflection in the sign to fix her hair.

“Ok,” I think. “She’s just being a woman. Probably lots of men have checked their reflection in that sign, as well.”

Then she starts swiping at her sweater. I guess she was trying to get the lint off. But it was an almost obsessive-compulsive swipe.

“Man, this woman is complicated,” I think.

Then I look out the window at a car pulling into the garage and look back. She is doing that shimmy women do when trying to adjust their boobs in a l0w-cut dress. I mean, it’s a full-blown “get my boobs and bra up” shimmy (or whatever it is ya’ll are trying to do when you do this). You know, the one you normally do in private. Don’t act like ya’ll don’t know.

She checks her reflection again.

Plays with her hair in the reflection.

Ding.

I tell Kathryn all the time that she’s complicated.

“I’m a woman,” she says. “What do you expect?”

But some women are more complicated than others. And us men, sometimes in our head we see a woman doing something — like walking through the mall with dozens of bags from a shopping spree — and think, “Thank God she’s not my problem.”

This was one of those times.

And take a look at our wedding pictures while you’re at it!

http://www.millersalbums.com/?event=37485Wd2bda46aa7

Blogging had always been a wonderful hobby of mine years ago at www.xanga.com/katybeth27. I even enjoyed writing a very successful anonymous dating blog prior to my relationship with Ryan.

So to say that I love blogging is an understatement.

Glad to be back, ya’ll.

And thank God for a job. I took a month-long hiatus from work so I could move my things down to Florida and get ready for the rest of the wedding stuff.

It took some networking and scrounging around, but you are looking at the new communications and marketing manager for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Broward County.

I’m both scared and excited. Scared because I’m basically going to be starting from the ground up with our communications plan since there was really no plan in place. Yikes. Excited because I’m going to be challenged and given more responsibilities than I have had in any other job up until this point.

Oh. Did I mention I’m getting paid almost twice what I was in Oklahoma?

Rock on. Welcome to South Florida.