A little less talk and a lot more action

Me and Mandy went to see Blake Shelton play at Wild Bills last night. Wild Bills is this huge ass country bar in hot-LANTA. Anyway, we pulled into the parking lot and neither one of us had been there before and didn't realize that it was valet parking only. "Hell no, I don't need some guy to park my car for me," I told her. So when the guy came up to the window, I told him I didn't think he could handle my stick and then I drove off. I guess to clarify things, my car is a stick-shift.

So we went inside the bar and met up with my sister and a couple of her friends. That place is insanely huge. The openers eventually came on and they were pretty good. And then Blake Shelton came on. Are you ready for the most exciting part?!?! We had a table close to the bar and were a little ways off from the stage but we still had a good view. And during one of his songs, he was lookin our direction so we started pointing at him, and he pointed back!!!! Yeah, he totally wanted to understand the inner tickings of my soul. I know it. Ok, maybe not. But a girl can dream, right?

On the way to the concert, we stopped at the gas station. My car still has paint on it from the Peach Bowl. And this mid-40s guy struck up a conversation with my from the adjacent pump. I figured he was just a friendly, older bulldawg fan just shootin the breeze. Um, no. He started tellin me about his tree-cutting business and how he makes a good amount of money. He doesn't climb the trees anymore, he just mans the phone. He even sells cars on the side to make extra money. And as I was walkin by his truck to go inside, he stoped me and pulled out his wallet and showed me all the cash he had in it. He handed me his business card and told me if I ever saw a dead tree (and I'd know one if I saw one, he explained, it just looks dead), he'd give me 20% of what he got for cutting it.

So which one do I go for? Blake Shelton? Or Tree Cutter?

To spice up my coolness factor in your eyes, let me tell you yet another story. Kara is in charge of the Native American site for the Native American class we teach. Part of the class is using oyster shells to scrap on a dug-out canoe. And you occassionally have to burn the top part of the canoe that the kids dig out. So I went out in the woods and helped her do that. We got that whole thing on fire and it was awesome because it was freezing out. When we got the fire out, we cleared the log off. And then I grabbed a stick and Kara asked if I was going to write my name in the burnt part. I hadn't thought about it before, but decided it was a good idea. So I start carvin my name. 'N' 'e' 'v' 'e' 'a' "Um, Nevena, aren't you missing a letter there??" "Oh, shit Kara, you're right!" Yeah, I mis-spelled my own name.