Saturday, June 25, 2011
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
More Tales from Humphrey's Past
It might become a theme this week to post entries from Humphrey's high school Senior Scrapbook. This one probably wont make you laugh as much, but even Humphrey has multiple sides. These tidbits might even lead us to a better understanding of how he became an idol in Mid-Atlantic if not east of the Mississippi.
Senior Year
Easily the best of my four years in high school. I was not able to play football becuase my shoulder was lodged in the "wedge" for four months and then a regular sling for another. Since I could not play football I began to hang out with some other people and allowed me to do things outside of my comfort zone.
With nothing to do and bored beyond belief I just started hanging out up at school, before school was even in. There were orientations and all that good stuff going on daily and there were always people there. Melissa, Sarah, April and Courtney let me tag along with them and we started to hang out after school got out and we all went to homecoming together. (Yes, Humphrey and four co-eds.) I won king and we went as a group so I didn't really have a date so I had Ben and Benjamin put me on their shoulders for the escort part. It was a good time.
We would tailgate before football games from noon till game time. It was so much fun and I learned how to cook...no one died from my cooking. We won the Central Region title over Patrick Henry and went to states for the first time. I was the leader of the student section, "King of the Cage." After football season, I started to work out for baseball and continued physical therapy. PT is the most painful thing I have ever done. I hate it with a passion. I didn't get to play very much this year but it's OK. I am a captain and I like to think that I have taught the other guys some lessons and hopefully they don't take the game for granted.
Senior Year
Easily the best of my four years in high school. I was not able to play football becuase my shoulder was lodged in the "wedge" for four months and then a regular sling for another. Since I could not play football I began to hang out with some other people and allowed me to do things outside of my comfort zone.
With nothing to do and bored beyond belief I just started hanging out up at school, before school was even in. There were orientations and all that good stuff going on daily and there were always people there. Melissa, Sarah, April and Courtney let me tag along with them and we started to hang out after school got out and we all went to homecoming together. (Yes, Humphrey and four co-eds.) I won king and we went as a group so I didn't really have a date so I had Ben and Benjamin put me on their shoulders for the escort part. It was a good time.
We would tailgate before football games from noon till game time. It was so much fun and I learned how to cook...no one died from my cooking. We won the Central Region title over Patrick Henry and went to states for the first time. I was the leader of the student section, "King of the Cage." After football season, I started to work out for baseball and continued physical therapy. PT is the most painful thing I have ever done. I hate it with a passion. I didn't get to play very much this year but it's OK. I am a captain and I like to think that I have taught the other guys some lessons and hopefully they don't take the game for granted.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Humphrey's Thoughts on Soccer: Part II
Thousands of fans have e-mailed in with overwhelmingly positive feedback about the photoshoot. Many have asked why the Juicy Juice and Swiss Cake Rolls? As promised, here is the essay that Humphrey wrote in high school about soccer and baseball. Minimal editing has been done in order to better preserve the authenticity of the young lad's writing. (Video interview with Humphrey coming soon.)
Battle of the Balls: Soccer & Baseball, That Is
Baseball, America’s pastime. Soccer, America’s nickname for the imported game of futból. Americans had to come up with the name “soccer” because we already had a better game called football. There seems to be a consensus in our high school, or just with our soccer team, that baseball is boring and easy. Is that why the soccer stands are filled with only the parents of the players and students seeking extra credit and there are not enough seats in the bleachers or room along the fence line at baseball games? Is that why baseball practice ends an hour or two after soccer lets out? Soccer parents venture over to the concession stand and bathroom on an average of 4 times per game. Either they are obese, have a “growing problem not a going problem” or they are bored and watch to catch a glimpse of a real game.
Soccer players are quick to point out that baseball players are not athletic. That is crap. Most baseball players are athletic and although some appear unathletic, they use their unathletic looking qualities to perform their duties. A fat pitcher uses his weight to gain more momentum in order to throw the ball harder. As for soccer, all of them are athletic. They can run for extended periods of time. Congratulations. Baseball players also have the use of their hands. There have been studies and it turns out that soccer players eventually lose complete use of their hands when they reach the age of 57. This, along with the substantial loss of brain cells due to “heading” the ball, is most likely why soccer players are unintelligent and uncoordinated (Not based on actual statistical analysis).
Now, let’s talk talent. Soccer, going back to the athlete portion, if you were to stick a decent athlete out on the soccer field then they would do all right. All that would be neede to turn an athlete into a good player would be a couple lessons on how to move around and where to be when the ball goes from one end to the other. Baseball, on the other hand, requires years of practice just to be an average player. It is not a game that someone can just decide, “Hey, I want to play baseball now.” There are not many pick up baseball games because most kids have not acquired the skills to play such an advanced game. Mass amounts of skill are needed to hit a 5 ¼ ounce ball traveling anywhere from 75 to 95 miles per hour. Ability and expertise are needed to throw a ball 60 feet over a 17 inch plate anywhere from 75 to 95 miles per hour consistently, while throwing a variety of different pitches. The easiest part of baseball is fielding, and even that is not as easy as it looks. A lot of footwork is involved that puts the fielder in a position to throw the ball to the appropriate base and making the throw is not an easy task either. When baseball players “kick” or “boot” a ball, it is an error.
In soccer the coach has around two to three decisions to make the entire game. He or she will make a couple substitutions and has 90 minutes decide where to go eat after the game. If they are lucky when the game has reached its conclusion there will be a soccer mom waiting with Juicy Juice boxes and Little Debbie snacks. A baseball coach has a million things going on during the game and it is not just the head coach, but the assistant coaches also. They must be good at getting into peoples heads. They must out think the opposing coaches and players. Situations exist where a player should be moved ten feet in a direction based on the type of swing the batter has, that will prevent extra bases. The coaches let the players know what a pitcher’s pick-off move is like and his rythym in order for the base runner to get better jumps to steal a bag or advance an extra base. The third base coach has to give signs, which is a very complex process. Opposing coaches and players are always watching the third base coach to try to figure out his signs. To prevent this, a coach usually has an indicator he has to touch first or something such as the third thing he touches is the sign. He also employs a wipe off, which whatever sign he just gave was wiped off and he goes through the whole process again in order to keep the other team guessing. The pitching coach relays signs to the catcher who relays them to the pitcher to tell him what pitch to throw. This is very important because if the coach were to give the same signs in the same sequence or situation, the batters would know what pitch is coming and that would increase their chances of getting a hit. Good pitching coaches vary the pitch sequence and never allow the batter to get comfortable in the batter’s box. In the time baseball coaches do all the above, soccer coaches have consumed a juice box, eaten an orange at halftime, decided on going to Applebee’s, and one player substitution.
As much as the coaching staff does for a baseball team, none of that would matter without intelligent players to execute the situations correctly. When I say intelligent, that does not mean classroom grades, it means baseball intelligence. I believe our team IQ is 6, but that does not stop us from being smart on the field. For every play of the game, and at every position on the field, there is a place a player has to be. On a ground ball to the short stop the first baseman has to go to first to catch the ball, the second baseman goes to cover second, the third baseman and left fielder both break towards the ball, the center fielder breaks in toward the infield, and the catcher and right fielder back up first base. Everyone has a duty and the duties change depending on where the ball is hit, how many runners are on base, what bases they are on, how many out there are, the score of the game, etc.
All in all, soccer wishes it could be like baseball in America. So much so, that they named their professional soccer league (Major League Soccer) after Major League Baseball. Europe sent their best soccer player, David Beckham, over here to America to try to bring popularity to the sport. It worked…for about a week. Soccer will never be like baseball, in our high school or anywhere else in America for that matter. As much as I love the Little Debbie snacks and juice boxes, you will never find me on a soccer field, unless we are conditioning for baseball.
Battle of the Balls: Soccer & Baseball, That Is
Baseball, America’s pastime. Soccer, America’s nickname for the imported game of futból. Americans had to come up with the name “soccer” because we already had a better game called football. There seems to be a consensus in our high school, or just with our soccer team, that baseball is boring and easy. Is that why the soccer stands are filled with only the parents of the players and students seeking extra credit and there are not enough seats in the bleachers or room along the fence line at baseball games? Is that why baseball practice ends an hour or two after soccer lets out? Soccer parents venture over to the concession stand and bathroom on an average of 4 times per game. Either they are obese, have a “growing problem not a going problem” or they are bored and watch to catch a glimpse of a real game.
Soccer players are quick to point out that baseball players are not athletic. That is crap. Most baseball players are athletic and although some appear unathletic, they use their unathletic looking qualities to perform their duties. A fat pitcher uses his weight to gain more momentum in order to throw the ball harder. As for soccer, all of them are athletic. They can run for extended periods of time. Congratulations. Baseball players also have the use of their hands. There have been studies and it turns out that soccer players eventually lose complete use of their hands when they reach the age of 57. This, along with the substantial loss of brain cells due to “heading” the ball, is most likely why soccer players are unintelligent and uncoordinated (Not based on actual statistical analysis).
Now, let’s talk talent. Soccer, going back to the athlete portion, if you were to stick a decent athlete out on the soccer field then they would do all right. All that would be neede to turn an athlete into a good player would be a couple lessons on how to move around and where to be when the ball goes from one end to the other. Baseball, on the other hand, requires years of practice just to be an average player. It is not a game that someone can just decide, “Hey, I want to play baseball now.” There are not many pick up baseball games because most kids have not acquired the skills to play such an advanced game. Mass amounts of skill are needed to hit a 5 ¼ ounce ball traveling anywhere from 75 to 95 miles per hour. Ability and expertise are needed to throw a ball 60 feet over a 17 inch plate anywhere from 75 to 95 miles per hour consistently, while throwing a variety of different pitches. The easiest part of baseball is fielding, and even that is not as easy as it looks. A lot of footwork is involved that puts the fielder in a position to throw the ball to the appropriate base and making the throw is not an easy task either. When baseball players “kick” or “boot” a ball, it is an error.
In soccer the coach has around two to three decisions to make the entire game. He or she will make a couple substitutions and has 90 minutes decide where to go eat after the game. If they are lucky when the game has reached its conclusion there will be a soccer mom waiting with Juicy Juice boxes and Little Debbie snacks. A baseball coach has a million things going on during the game and it is not just the head coach, but the assistant coaches also. They must be good at getting into peoples heads. They must out think the opposing coaches and players. Situations exist where a player should be moved ten feet in a direction based on the type of swing the batter has, that will prevent extra bases. The coaches let the players know what a pitcher’s pick-off move is like and his rythym in order for the base runner to get better jumps to steal a bag or advance an extra base. The third base coach has to give signs, which is a very complex process. Opposing coaches and players are always watching the third base coach to try to figure out his signs. To prevent this, a coach usually has an indicator he has to touch first or something such as the third thing he touches is the sign. He also employs a wipe off, which whatever sign he just gave was wiped off and he goes through the whole process again in order to keep the other team guessing. The pitching coach relays signs to the catcher who relays them to the pitcher to tell him what pitch to throw. This is very important because if the coach were to give the same signs in the same sequence or situation, the batters would know what pitch is coming and that would increase their chances of getting a hit. Good pitching coaches vary the pitch sequence and never allow the batter to get comfortable in the batter’s box. In the time baseball coaches do all the above, soccer coaches have consumed a juice box, eaten an orange at halftime, decided on going to Applebee’s, and one player substitution.
As much as the coaching staff does for a baseball team, none of that would matter without intelligent players to execute the situations correctly. When I say intelligent, that does not mean classroom grades, it means baseball intelligence. I believe our team IQ is 6, but that does not stop us from being smart on the field. For every play of the game, and at every position on the field, there is a place a player has to be. On a ground ball to the short stop the first baseman has to go to first to catch the ball, the second baseman goes to cover second, the third baseman and left fielder both break towards the ball, the center fielder breaks in toward the infield, and the catcher and right fielder back up first base. Everyone has a duty and the duties change depending on where the ball is hit, how many runners are on base, what bases they are on, how many out there are, the score of the game, etc.
All in all, soccer wishes it could be like baseball in America. So much so, that they named their professional soccer league (Major League Soccer) after Major League Baseball. Europe sent their best soccer player, David Beckham, over here to America to try to bring popularity to the sport. It worked…for about a week. Soccer will never be like baseball, in our high school or anywhere else in America for that matter. As much as I love the Little Debbie snacks and juice boxes, you will never find me on a soccer field, unless we are conditioning for baseball.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Humphrey's Thoughts on Soccer: Part 1
I have now been living with Humphrey's parents for over two weeks and his mother Bernise dug up an old collection of essays he wrote in his senior year of high school.
There is one about soccer which is the focus of the globe right now as South Africa hosts the World Cup. But before we get to Humphrey's thoughts on the original football, I'll describe this collection of writing.
The cover page simply says SENIOR SCRAPBOOK. For whatever reason, he decided to write everything in size 14, all caps, Castellar. The choice of this stencil-looking font is questionable, but I assume that he was trying to write as little as possible and the font stretched things out.
Bernise keeps everything and it came as no surprise to me that she also bound the essays with three red and white shoelace-lookin' strings. Humphrey's first essay follows. It has not been edited. He doesn't fully understand commas but it is fine writing for a senior in high school.
WHO AM I?
THIS IS HUMPHREY I AM IN MY SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL AT HANGOVER. THIS IS MRS. MCMILLAN'S CLASS, END OF THE YEAR PROJECT. A LITTLE ABOUT MYSELF. I HAVE MANY LEATHER BOUND BOOKS, MY APARTMENT SMELLS OF RICH MAHOGANY, I GO OUT WITH MERLIN OLSON, ON OCCASION. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ASKING YOURSELF. AND THE ANSWER IS YES. I HAVE A NICKNAME FOR MY STOMACH. IT'S CALLED THE OCTAGON. BUT I ALSO NICKNAMED MY LEGS. MY LEFT ONE IS JAMES WESTFALL AND MY RIGHT ONE IS DR. KENNETH NOISEWATER. I'M ALL ABOUT HAVING FUN. YOU KNOW, GET A COUPLE OF COCKTAILS IN ME, START A FIRE IN SOMEONE’S KITCHEN, MAYBE GO TO SEA WORLD, TAKE MY PANTS OFF. PEOPLE SEEM TO LIKE ME BECAUSE I AM POLITE, AND I’M RARELY LATE. I LIKE TO EAT ICE CREAM AND I REALLY ENJOY A NICE PAIR OF SLACKS. ON A FUNNIER NOTE, I LIVE IN THE MAGNIFICENT TOWN OF MECHANICSVILLE, JUST NORTH OF RICHMOND. I WILL BE ATTENDING JAMES MADISON UNIVERSITY IN HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, IN THE FALL. I PLAN TO STUDY HISTORY AND EVENTUALLY BECOME A HIGH SCHOOL HISTORY TEACHER. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO BECOME A BASEBALL COACH AT THE HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL.
“FRANNIE MAC” IS PROBABLY PISSED THAT I ‘WASTED’ A PAGE BUT IT IS COOL BECAUSE THIS IS WHO I AM. I DON’T ACTUALLY DO HALF OF THAT STUFF I LISTED ABOVE BUT CHANNEL FOUR NEWS IS A BIG PART OF MY LIFE AND MOM YOUR PROBABLY PISSED RIGHT NOW TOO, BUT THIS IS MY BOOK NOT YOURS, EVEN THOUGH I WILL HAND IT TO YOU ONCE I GET BACK FROM FRANNIE MAC (YES THAT RHYMES) AND I WILL MOST LIKELY NEVER SEE IT AGAIN.
He seems to be afraid of using paragraphs and he may also be bi-polar (thinks he is Ron Burgundy).
Credit is due to "Frannie Mac" because it was she who suggested Hangin' with Humphrey look into the high school writing. On the Hangin' with Humphrey facebook page, the web savvy co-ed wrote this: "As "Humphrey's" former English teacher, I suggest that you consider posting a few of his old essays, ranging in topics from why soccer sucks to the history of the toilet. True gems, I assure you."
Thanks Frannie Mac.
Stay tuned for Part 2.
There is one about soccer which is the focus of the globe right now as South Africa hosts the World Cup. But before we get to Humphrey's thoughts on the original football, I'll describe this collection of writing.
The cover page simply says SENIOR SCRAPBOOK. For whatever reason, he decided to write everything in size 14, all caps, Castellar. The choice of this stencil-looking font is questionable, but I assume that he was trying to write as little as possible and the font stretched things out.
Bernise keeps everything and it came as no surprise to me that she also bound the essays with three red and white shoelace-lookin' strings. Humphrey's first essay follows. It has not been edited. He doesn't fully understand commas but it is fine writing for a senior in high school.
WHO AM I?
THIS IS HUMPHREY I AM IN MY SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL AT HANGOVER. THIS IS MRS. MCMILLAN'S CLASS, END OF THE YEAR PROJECT. A LITTLE ABOUT MYSELF. I HAVE MANY LEATHER BOUND BOOKS, MY APARTMENT SMELLS OF RICH MAHOGANY, I GO OUT WITH MERLIN OLSON, ON OCCASION. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ASKING YOURSELF. AND THE ANSWER IS YES. I HAVE A NICKNAME FOR MY STOMACH. IT'S CALLED THE OCTAGON. BUT I ALSO NICKNAMED MY LEGS. MY LEFT ONE IS JAMES WESTFALL AND MY RIGHT ONE IS DR. KENNETH NOISEWATER. I'M ALL ABOUT HAVING FUN. YOU KNOW, GET A COUPLE OF COCKTAILS IN ME, START A FIRE IN SOMEONE’S KITCHEN, MAYBE GO TO SEA WORLD, TAKE MY PANTS OFF. PEOPLE SEEM TO LIKE ME BECAUSE I AM POLITE, AND I’M RARELY LATE. I LIKE TO EAT ICE CREAM AND I REALLY ENJOY A NICE PAIR OF SLACKS. ON A FUNNIER NOTE, I LIVE IN THE MAGNIFICENT TOWN OF MECHANICSVILLE, JUST NORTH OF RICHMOND. I WILL BE ATTENDING JAMES MADISON UNIVERSITY IN HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, IN THE FALL. I PLAN TO STUDY HISTORY AND EVENTUALLY BECOME A HIGH SCHOOL HISTORY TEACHER. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO BECOME A BASEBALL COACH AT THE HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL.
“FRANNIE MAC” IS PROBABLY PISSED THAT I ‘WASTED’ A PAGE BUT IT IS COOL BECAUSE THIS IS WHO I AM. I DON’T ACTUALLY DO HALF OF THAT STUFF I LISTED ABOVE BUT CHANNEL FOUR NEWS IS A BIG PART OF MY LIFE AND MOM YOUR PROBABLY PISSED RIGHT NOW TOO, BUT THIS IS MY BOOK NOT YOURS, EVEN THOUGH I WILL HAND IT TO YOU ONCE I GET BACK FROM FRANNIE MAC (YES THAT RHYMES) AND I WILL MOST LIKELY NEVER SEE IT AGAIN.
He seems to be afraid of using paragraphs and he may also be bi-polar (thinks he is Ron Burgundy).
Credit is due to "Frannie Mac" because it was she who suggested Hangin' with Humphrey look into the high school writing. On the Hangin' with Humphrey facebook page, the web savvy co-ed wrote this: "As "Humphrey's" former English teacher, I suggest that you consider posting a few of his old essays, ranging in topics from why soccer sucks to the history of the toilet. True gems, I assure you."
Thanks Frannie Mac.
Stay tuned for Part 2.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Class of 1960? Hell Yeah!
First I will start off by expressing my deepest regrets. Not only have I started a new job, but for about a month now Jersey Mike and I have been working on the infrastructure of Hangin' with Humphrey.
From what I hear, Hangin' with Humphrey droughts are catastrophic for some of the biggest fans. Rumor has it that a few co-eds have simply stopped menstruating. Without rousing stories of their favorite celebrity, there reproductive organs no longer function as a result of negative libidos. As a result guys are resorting to activity once thought to be shared by only Pat and Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris.
Anyhow, shall we get back to the tale of that sunny Friday when Humphrey legitimized himself as a bona fide performer? I think so. (See the previous post from late May if you need refreshing.)
Upon leaving the classroom, which is now one of the most legendary on campus, Humphrey and I decided to briefly set up shop in the third floor hallway of Harrison Hall. Well, one of our 40 bottles actually decided to set up shop. Somehow it crawled out of Humphrey's satchel and stood upright in the walkway.
As passersby strode though, Humphrey and I politely warned people of the hallway's suspicious obstacle.
"Watch out co-eds! There's a 40 bottle there."
"Careful ahead. Someone left there 40 bottle in the hallway again."
"Guys be careful, will ya? Some kids got in this morning and were drinking in the hallway."
Thanks to Humphrey's thoughtfulness -- which I'm fast learning came from his beautiful mother Bernise... but more on that another day -- no one was hurt from tripping over that 40 bottle.
But before we left the building a squirreley lookin' professor popped out of his classroom and questioned me and Humphrey.
"Is that yours?" the academic asked us while pointing to that suspicious, and delicious, bottle.
"No sir," we said in unison, trying our hardest to keep straight expressions.
"Have you guys been drinking?" Poindexter followed up.
"Not at all sir. We saw someone put that bottle there and run. We were just warning people about it."
"OK. Well you guys don't seem drunk."
Hmmm... I don't think we'll ever know what that guy was thinking. In any case, we booked it out of there and decided not to push our luck -- at least not until we got down to the Quad.
The Adventure continues on the Quad
When we got down to the Quad, we were still feelin' pretty good so we decided to strut our stuff down that main stretch in front of the iconic Wilson Hall. Wilson Hall wasn't the only icon though. Mind you, Humphrey was still glowing in his gold Guido shirt and daisy dukes. (I didn't look too bad in my cut-off Ride Me T-shirt and anatomically correct blue corduroys.)
Believe it or not, we weren't the only ones admiring our attire. Countless co-eds whistled at us and two special ladies even locked our arms. It may have been the other way around but Betty Lou and Evelyn were smitten.
Those aren't common names of our generation, you say. Well that's because these silver co-eds were a part of a campus tour for the Class of 1960!
They were thoroughly enjoying our company and even there husbands took to us. Humphrey called them dolls and told them how beautiful they were and their husbands asked us where we were from, what we study, etc.
Then in typical JMU fashion, one of the nerdy tour guides had to meddle. He was an 2005 graduate, according to his cool name tag. He told us that we needed to leave the tour and not bother the ladies. I had no idea that the class of 2005 was the only class in JMU history to not produce fun people with senses of humor.
We obliged after apologizing to Betty Lou and Evelyn for having to split so soon. They promised that they would see us later that night in Ashby Crossing for a three kegger. Either they stood us up or their own partying days at the Normal School are catching up to them.
It was a quite the morning. Well needed naps ensued.
From what I hear, Hangin' with Humphrey droughts are catastrophic for some of the biggest fans. Rumor has it that a few co-eds have simply stopped menstruating. Without rousing stories of their favorite celebrity, there reproductive organs no longer function as a result of negative libidos. As a result guys are resorting to activity once thought to be shared by only Pat and Big Chris, not to be confused with Chris.
Anyhow, shall we get back to the tale of that sunny Friday when Humphrey legitimized himself as a bona fide performer? I think so. (See the previous post from late May if you need refreshing.)
Upon leaving the classroom, which is now one of the most legendary on campus, Humphrey and I decided to briefly set up shop in the third floor hallway of Harrison Hall. Well, one of our 40 bottles actually decided to set up shop. Somehow it crawled out of Humphrey's satchel and stood upright in the walkway.
As passersby strode though, Humphrey and I politely warned people of the hallway's suspicious obstacle.
"Watch out co-eds! There's a 40 bottle there."
"Careful ahead. Someone left there 40 bottle in the hallway again."
"Guys be careful, will ya? Some kids got in this morning and were drinking in the hallway."
Thanks to Humphrey's thoughtfulness -- which I'm fast learning came from his beautiful mother Bernise... but more on that another day -- no one was hurt from tripping over that 40 bottle.
But before we left the building a squirreley lookin' professor popped out of his classroom and questioned me and Humphrey.
"Is that yours?" the academic asked us while pointing to that suspicious, and delicious, bottle.
"No sir," we said in unison, trying our hardest to keep straight expressions.
"Have you guys been drinking?" Poindexter followed up.
"Not at all sir. We saw someone put that bottle there and run. We were just warning people about it."
"OK. Well you guys don't seem drunk."
Hmmm... I don't think we'll ever know what that guy was thinking. In any case, we booked it out of there and decided not to push our luck -- at least not until we got down to the Quad.
The Adventure continues on the Quad
When we got down to the Quad, we were still feelin' pretty good so we decided to strut our stuff down that main stretch in front of the iconic Wilson Hall. Wilson Hall wasn't the only icon though. Mind you, Humphrey was still glowing in his gold Guido shirt and daisy dukes. (I didn't look too bad in my cut-off Ride Me T-shirt and anatomically correct blue corduroys.)
Believe it or not, we weren't the only ones admiring our attire. Countless co-eds whistled at us and two special ladies even locked our arms. It may have been the other way around but Betty Lou and Evelyn were smitten.
Those aren't common names of our generation, you say. Well that's because these silver co-eds were a part of a campus tour for the Class of 1960!
They were thoroughly enjoying our company and even there husbands took to us. Humphrey called them dolls and told them how beautiful they were and their husbands asked us where we were from, what we study, etc.
Then in typical JMU fashion, one of the nerdy tour guides had to meddle. He was an 2005 graduate, according to his cool name tag. He told us that we needed to leave the tour and not bother the ladies. I had no idea that the class of 2005 was the only class in JMU history to not produce fun people with senses of humor.
We obliged after apologizing to Betty Lou and Evelyn for having to split so soon. They promised that they would see us later that night in Ashby Crossing for a three kegger. Either they stood us up or their own partying days at the Normal School are catching up to them.
It was a quite the morning. Well needed naps ensued.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Interpretive Dance: The Full Story
It was early on a Friday morning -- the last Friday morning that I would ever attend a college class. The sun was shining and it was a perfect day in Harrisonburg.
As promised earlier in the semester, Humphrey and I were preparing to dazzle my Popular Writing course with an interpretive dance. (Read back story here.)
I crawled out of bed at 6:25 a.m., grabbed my backpack and moseyed over to Humphrey's place. Humphrey was still fast asleep, but he shook off a wild Thursday night and joined me in the community room. (He lamented that he felt violated because a number of co-eds in the Fox Hills region had grabbed his buttocks Thursday evening without even asking. "I'm not a piece of ass!" he said.) I was worried that he would go too hard and not be on top of his game in the morning. How wrong was I.
As planned, we popped in Rudy and popped open a couple of 40-ounce bottles. As far as I know they had apple juice in them. For the next two hours we drank two of these apple juice-looking drinks each and enjoyed the rousing tale of one Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. Humphrey snacked on some leftover dinner from the night before and heated up a chicken pot pie, a breakfast of champions in its own right. As Rudy did up-downs, we also limbered up and began to focus on our performance, which was slated to begin at 9:15 in Harrison Hall.
We boarded the bus to campus around 8:35 with no shame. Humphrey donned the daisy dukes and the gold Guido shirt and I rocked the anatomically correct blue corduroys with the "Ride Me" belly shirt. If my memory serves me right, we sat next to the lovely Donna and Brittani (two of Humphrey's biggest fans). Yeah, we received a few death stares and looks of condemnation, but we had an audience to please and, frankly, we looked damn good.
The beautiful Donna (left) and Brittani below. I can speak for Humphrey in saying that we wish we had met these fine ladies earlier in the semester.
When we got to the Quad, we still had a few sips to finish up, so we asked a co-ed to inform the beautiful professor to cue up Meat Loaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love." The class also moved the desks to the edges of the room, unaware of the treat they were about to receive. We waited in the hallway of the third floor greeting passersby and stretching our godly physiques.
Then we were called into the class. Humphrey took over at this point and the co-eds went wild. I felt like I was at an N*SYNC concert the way the co-eds began squealing when they recognized the stout dreamboat that had filled their dreams every night since the inception of this very blog. If his gold shirt wasn't enough, he began to glow all over in the eyes of these naïve nymphs.
As Meat Loaf belted out one of the most influential tunes of all time, we shuffled out one of the most influential dances of all time. Humphrey took the lead and gracefully criss-crossed the room as if he was gliding on skates. "I would do anything for love," Meat Loaf crooned as we mouthed along with him. "But I won't do that. No, I won't do that." On the word "that" we clenched our fists and looked deep into the co-eds' eyes. A few co-eds were lucky enough to experience one of Humphrey's famous moves: the pop, lock and drop.
The "pop, lock and drop" is not to be employed by the clumsy and not to be employed upon the faint of heart. People can get injured. Humphrey often starts the move by pointing to a non-existent quarter that he dropped on the ground. He drops it right in front of unsuspecting co-eds. He then bends at the waist, bends at the knees and pops his tuckus gracefully up toward the co-ed's pelvis. The order of the words in the move don't make perfect sense, but Humphrey has assured me that it is fine because we live in America. A few co-eds have fainted due to the shock of being selected as recipients of the "pop, lock and drop." (They should feel blessed to have such an experience with a budding American legend, but many fail to realize that Humphrey is generous with the "pop, lock and drop," and most co-eds in his path experience the pleasure when the night is right."
After about three minutes and 20 seconds of gliding through the room and delivering intimate interaction through our dance, Meat Loaf and his choir of background singers signaled the climax (no pun intended, though a few co-eds, including one Becca, were seen with orgasmic-like expressions across their faces.)
Many co-eds took out their phones and began taking video of the performance. Humphrey's neighbors even showed up to take their own motion photography of the event. Crazy-hair Erin and Lydia took time out of their busy Fridays and postponed buying their fourth keg of the week to support Humphrey. Erin later remarked that she hadn't seen anything so perfect other than her mother Patti's breasts.
Crazy-hair Erin took these photos.
The climax of the song begins when Meat Loaf's choir of angelic voices, known as the Paula Deens, begin singing the chorus. Like a thunderous crescendo, the song picks up and Humphrey and I do a move I learned from my brother called "Crazy Legs." As detailed in previous posts, "Crazy Legs" is mainly a fast shuffling of the feet. It can be done with rotations and goes well with a few leaps thrown in. Humphrey has in just a few months already mastered the leap, in which one foot is thrown back and the eyes shoot up toward the sky. The beautiful professor even grabbed the hands of few students, gentlemen and co-eds alike, and made them bust a move or two.
Just when the co-eds thought, much like Lorraine Crosby (Meat Loaf's co-vocalist in the song), that "it would all turn to dust and we'd all fall down!" they were hit with an encore performance to Meat Loaf's "You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth." It was as if "there was a fog crawling over the sand." Humphrey listened to each of those co-ed's "heart and heard the whole world turning." As the song ended, the dancing continued as the beautiful professor was gracefully jostled between our finely groomed midriffs. (Some compared it to the party-boy move made famous by Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell.) She pretended to push us away and escape the melodic movements of our torsos, but we could tell she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
The experience in that Harrison classroom ended with greeting of fans and the beautiful professor asking the friendly Humphrey what the exigence of the dance is?
If I can borrow an adjective of the great Chip Tarketon, unlicensed attorney at law, the portly fellow answered her question in true Humphrey fashion: "I don't speak Spanish."
Stay tuned. More to follow on what happened after that epic class.
As promised earlier in the semester, Humphrey and I were preparing to dazzle my Popular Writing course with an interpretive dance. (Read back story here.)
I crawled out of bed at 6:25 a.m., grabbed my backpack and moseyed over to Humphrey's place. Humphrey was still fast asleep, but he shook off a wild Thursday night and joined me in the community room. (He lamented that he felt violated because a number of co-eds in the Fox Hills region had grabbed his buttocks Thursday evening without even asking. "I'm not a piece of ass!" he said.) I was worried that he would go too hard and not be on top of his game in the morning. How wrong was I.
As planned, we popped in Rudy and popped open a couple of 40-ounce bottles. As far as I know they had apple juice in them. For the next two hours we drank two of these apple juice-looking drinks each and enjoyed the rousing tale of one Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. Humphrey snacked on some leftover dinner from the night before and heated up a chicken pot pie, a breakfast of champions in its own right. As Rudy did up-downs, we also limbered up and began to focus on our performance, which was slated to begin at 9:15 in Harrison Hall.
We boarded the bus to campus around 8:35 with no shame. Humphrey donned the daisy dukes and the gold Guido shirt and I rocked the anatomically correct blue corduroys with the "Ride Me" belly shirt. If my memory serves me right, we sat next to the lovely Donna and Brittani (two of Humphrey's biggest fans). Yeah, we received a few death stares and looks of condemnation, but we had an audience to please and, frankly, we looked damn good.
The beautiful Donna (left) and Brittani below. I can speak for Humphrey in saying that we wish we had met these fine ladies earlier in the semester.
When we got to the Quad, we still had a few sips to finish up, so we asked a co-ed to inform the beautiful professor to cue up Meat Loaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love." The class also moved the desks to the edges of the room, unaware of the treat they were about to receive. We waited in the hallway of the third floor greeting passersby and stretching our godly physiques.
Then we were called into the class. Humphrey took over at this point and the co-eds went wild. I felt like I was at an N*SYNC concert the way the co-eds began squealing when they recognized the stout dreamboat that had filled their dreams every night since the inception of this very blog. If his gold shirt wasn't enough, he began to glow all over in the eyes of these naïve nymphs.
As Meat Loaf belted out one of the most influential tunes of all time, we shuffled out one of the most influential dances of all time. Humphrey took the lead and gracefully criss-crossed the room as if he was gliding on skates. "I would do anything for love," Meat Loaf crooned as we mouthed along with him. "But I won't do that. No, I won't do that." On the word "that" we clenched our fists and looked deep into the co-eds' eyes. A few co-eds were lucky enough to experience one of Humphrey's famous moves: the pop, lock and drop.
The "pop, lock and drop" is not to be employed by the clumsy and not to be employed upon the faint of heart. People can get injured. Humphrey often starts the move by pointing to a non-existent quarter that he dropped on the ground. He drops it right in front of unsuspecting co-eds. He then bends at the waist, bends at the knees and pops his tuckus gracefully up toward the co-ed's pelvis. The order of the words in the move don't make perfect sense, but Humphrey has assured me that it is fine because we live in America. A few co-eds have fainted due to the shock of being selected as recipients of the "pop, lock and drop." (They should feel blessed to have such an experience with a budding American legend, but many fail to realize that Humphrey is generous with the "pop, lock and drop," and most co-eds in his path experience the pleasure when the night is right."
After about three minutes and 20 seconds of gliding through the room and delivering intimate interaction through our dance, Meat Loaf and his choir of background singers signaled the climax (no pun intended, though a few co-eds, including one Becca, were seen with orgasmic-like expressions across their faces.)
Many co-eds took out their phones and began taking video of the performance. Humphrey's neighbors even showed up to take their own motion photography of the event. Crazy-hair Erin and Lydia took time out of their busy Fridays and postponed buying their fourth keg of the week to support Humphrey. Erin later remarked that she hadn't seen anything so perfect other than her mother Patti's breasts.
Crazy-hair Erin took these photos.
The climax of the song begins when Meat Loaf's choir of angelic voices, known as the Paula Deens, begin singing the chorus. Like a thunderous crescendo, the song picks up and Humphrey and I do a move I learned from my brother called "Crazy Legs." As detailed in previous posts, "Crazy Legs" is mainly a fast shuffling of the feet. It can be done with rotations and goes well with a few leaps thrown in. Humphrey has in just a few months already mastered the leap, in which one foot is thrown back and the eyes shoot up toward the sky. The beautiful professor even grabbed the hands of few students, gentlemen and co-eds alike, and made them bust a move or two.
Just when the co-eds thought, much like Lorraine Crosby (Meat Loaf's co-vocalist in the song), that "it would all turn to dust and we'd all fall down!" they were hit with an encore performance to Meat Loaf's "You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth." It was as if "there was a fog crawling over the sand." Humphrey listened to each of those co-ed's "heart and heard the whole world turning." As the song ended, the dancing continued as the beautiful professor was gracefully jostled between our finely groomed midriffs. (Some compared it to the party-boy move made famous by Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell.) She pretended to push us away and escape the melodic movements of our torsos, but we could tell she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
The experience in that Harrison classroom ended with greeting of fans and the beautiful professor asking the friendly Humphrey what the exigence of the dance is?
If I can borrow an adjective of the great Chip Tarketon, unlicensed attorney at law, the portly fellow answered her question in true Humphrey fashion: "I don't speak Spanish."
Stay tuned. More to follow on what happened after that epic class.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Hw/H Announces New Hire!
We are pleased here at Hangin' with Humphrey to announce that Jersey Mike, the shadester of all shadesters, will replace me as chief editor and writer next semester.
Jersey Mike, of the Pennington Prep School, is a creative kid with loads of potential. He is known to be a great thespian and though his writing may be raw we are confident that his background in acting will bring him along. Read more about Jersey Mike here.
Jersey Mike and co-ed.
I will still be writing through the summer as I will soon be Livin' with Humphrey. Mike was a favorite to become chief editor and writer when discussions began at the board meeting last week. Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris, and Brad are runners-up and you may see some of their writing in the future. (I'm just kidding about Brad. He has dysgraphia.)
Mike solidified his position with some very solid writing today in a facebook-message discussion among some of the characters in Hangin' with Humphrey. You can read that discussion below. Mike will be interning all summer and providing that he passes a drug test (suggested by Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris), he will take over in the fall.
Enjoy the conversation and for a special fan named Meredith, Humphrey makes a mighty return in this conversation.
The discussion that instilled full confidence in Jersey Mike
9:59 a.m. — Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris: Check it out. I'm making it big time. Haha. http://www.theboxershow.com/pages/boxerintern.html
11:20 — Jersey Mike: My man.
11:42 — Me: Sorry Harold, but I need to expand on this a little bit. Shannon is one of six sisters! Holy shit. She grew up on a farm, which means she can raise animals, myself included. She wants to be a motivational speaker. She is motivating me already. Hot Damn. She works for the census, which means she can count all my babies she's gonna pop out. She is all about dreaming which means she's got a shot at the title and not every gal gets that. I guess I'll wrap this tirade up by saying, Harold if you don't get me going with our friend Shannon, I will beat your ass!
12:03 — Jersey Mike: Harold, it would be selfish not to set Tim up with "said co-ed". After all he has done for you. Tim, maybe she is moving up on the draft board? It seems her stock may have risen after an impressive performance at the combine, but there are still individual "workouts" to be scheduled... Only time will tell.
12:07 — Me: Too true. Said co-ed is quite high on the draft board, but I'm willing to trade her rights to Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris, in the rare instance of a break up with Kelsey. (I just double checked to make sure she wasn't a part of this thread.) Such a trade will be costly though and might require a multiple team action that would include the rights to Julie for a night and a month extension on Brad's drought. I love free agency!
12:46 — Jersey Mike: (This is the one that really shows Mike's promise.) This time of year is always so exciting! Our four-month summer break is the time when teams need to add talent, or in some cases (Pat), rebuild. After a disappointing 2009-2010 campaign, Pat is really looking to step his game up. What looked like a promising year for Charles, never truly got its legs. Although he has some pieces in place, i.e. his blue eyes which he has locked up long term, and his incredible boyish under the age of 13 charm, it seems some things may need to change. First, facial hair. It is possible Pat will pick up Bosley for the face as he is an Unrestricted Free Agent. Second, Pat may look to change his known associates, who embarrass him whenever an opportunity presents itself. There should be more traction to this story as the weeks progress.
Tim, I would be willing to trade Marly (Jersey Mike's exclusive co-ed) for a 6th round pick this year and a 7th next year. I could also include Terry's expiring contract. This could help in your multi-team deal. In addition, due to Terry's contract status, I will soon have the rights to a co-ed by the name of Chrissy. Although I will see what this co-ed has to offer..........., I am interested in trading her once I am through. Maybe a trade of Chrissy to Brad could aid his dry spell? I predict she jumps around from team to team.
12:49 — Me: Hahahahahahahahahaaha. There is no response to that. And ladies and gentlemen, Mike Lang has just been hired as a writer for Hangin' with Humphrey. Kid has talent.
12:59 — Humphrey: Mike,
You seem to have the TIm-given gift of writing. We will have to draw up a contract to become Humphrey's personal writer. As for me, I trade away all my picks for beer. This works in reverse order. While all the co-eds who surround me look much better, I seem to fall right off their draft boards with every ounce of golden refreshment that trickles down my esoufagus (disregard spelling, I have less brain cells than most people my age).
Love your beer mentor.
1:03 — Me: Humphrey,
Co-eds don't have draft boards.
1:17 — Jersey Mike: Can we put this chat in the blog? ASAP?
1:18 — Me: Already in the works. Wow. Mike even thinks like me. He is a dream. Albeit a sketchy one.
1:34 — Jersey Mike: Shadiness is my claim to fame, and I am riding that noise to the top.
1:36 — Me: Mike, clearly we are the only ones with lives on this drab Thursday afternoon.
1:51 — Jersey Mike: Right? I want to hear input of others... Although we did get a guest appearance from Humph himself. I'm actually at the gym, but bored.
2:49 — Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris: I have been enjoying this back and forth for the past few hours while relaxing after a hard days work at the radio station, but after hearing this topic come up I must add my input. I wholeheartedly agree with Mike's inheritance of chief blog-writer of Hangin' with Humphrey in Tim's absence.
I believe Mike so far fills the requirements of employment written in the Hangin' with Humphrey business code. I must stress, however, that there is a possibility of random drug testing once hired, so be aware of this. As much as I would love to read Mike's beautifully woven tales of Humphrey, the influence of illegal substances could hinder his ability in performing his tasks. With all this covered, I believe it is up to a simple vote to officially grant Mike the job.
Mike, you have big shoes to fill.
8:59 — Humphrey: Sorry i had a drinking break. my mistake earlier about women draft boards. me of all people should now they dont have rights. what i meant to say is the more i drink the more likely they will consider my actions on the verge of sexual harassment. in regards to the drug testing: 1. hopefully alcohol will not show up. 2. mikes sketchability antics will be able to falsify what ever would show up in the case that anything had shown up (not saying that anything would, we're respectable folks in 1825) 3. peeing in 40oz. OE bottles will replace the small cups usually used, and if its cool consider me miles davis.
back to beer. love you all
Humphrey
p.s. tims shoes arent that big physically but metaphorically..yes.
Jersey Mike, of the Pennington Prep School, is a creative kid with loads of potential. He is known to be a great thespian and though his writing may be raw we are confident that his background in acting will bring him along. Read more about Jersey Mike here.
Jersey Mike and co-ed.
I will still be writing through the summer as I will soon be Livin' with Humphrey. Mike was a favorite to become chief editor and writer when discussions began at the board meeting last week. Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris, and Brad are runners-up and you may see some of their writing in the future. (I'm just kidding about Brad. He has dysgraphia.)
Mike solidified his position with some very solid writing today in a facebook-message discussion among some of the characters in Hangin' with Humphrey. You can read that discussion below. Mike will be interning all summer and providing that he passes a drug test (suggested by Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris), he will take over in the fall.
Enjoy the conversation and for a special fan named Meredith, Humphrey makes a mighty return in this conversation.
The discussion that instilled full confidence in Jersey Mike
9:59 a.m. — Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris: Check it out. I'm making it big time. Haha. http://www.theboxershow.com/pages/boxerintern.html
11:20 — Jersey Mike: My man.
11:42 — Me: Sorry Harold, but I need to expand on this a little bit. Shannon is one of six sisters! Holy shit. She grew up on a farm, which means she can raise animals, myself included. She wants to be a motivational speaker. She is motivating me already. Hot Damn. She works for the census, which means she can count all my babies she's gonna pop out. She is all about dreaming which means she's got a shot at the title and not every gal gets that. I guess I'll wrap this tirade up by saying, Harold if you don't get me going with our friend Shannon, I will beat your ass!
12:03 — Jersey Mike: Harold, it would be selfish not to set Tim up with "said co-ed". After all he has done for you. Tim, maybe she is moving up on the draft board? It seems her stock may have risen after an impressive performance at the combine, but there are still individual "workouts" to be scheduled... Only time will tell.
12:07 — Me: Too true. Said co-ed is quite high on the draft board, but I'm willing to trade her rights to Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris, in the rare instance of a break up with Kelsey. (I just double checked to make sure she wasn't a part of this thread.) Such a trade will be costly though and might require a multiple team action that would include the rights to Julie for a night and a month extension on Brad's drought. I love free agency!
12:46 — Jersey Mike: (This is the one that really shows Mike's promise.) This time of year is always so exciting! Our four-month summer break is the time when teams need to add talent, or in some cases (Pat), rebuild. After a disappointing 2009-2010 campaign, Pat is really looking to step his game up. What looked like a promising year for Charles, never truly got its legs. Although he has some pieces in place, i.e. his blue eyes which he has locked up long term, and his incredible boyish under the age of 13 charm, it seems some things may need to change. First, facial hair. It is possible Pat will pick up Bosley for the face as he is an Unrestricted Free Agent. Second, Pat may look to change his known associates, who embarrass him whenever an opportunity presents itself. There should be more traction to this story as the weeks progress.
Tim, I would be willing to trade Marly (Jersey Mike's exclusive co-ed) for a 6th round pick this year and a 7th next year. I could also include Terry's expiring contract. This could help in your multi-team deal. In addition, due to Terry's contract status, I will soon have the rights to a co-ed by the name of Chrissy. Although I will see what this co-ed has to offer..........., I am interested in trading her once I am through. Maybe a trade of Chrissy to Brad could aid his dry spell? I predict she jumps around from team to team.
12:49 — Me: Hahahahahahahahahaaha. There is no response to that. And ladies and gentlemen, Mike Lang has just been hired as a writer for Hangin' with Humphrey. Kid has talent.
12:59 — Humphrey: Mike,
You seem to have the TIm-given gift of writing. We will have to draw up a contract to become Humphrey's personal writer. As for me, I trade away all my picks for beer. This works in reverse order. While all the co-eds who surround me look much better, I seem to fall right off their draft boards with every ounce of golden refreshment that trickles down my esoufagus (disregard spelling, I have less brain cells than most people my age).
Love your beer mentor.
1:03 — Me: Humphrey,
Co-eds don't have draft boards.
1:17 — Jersey Mike: Can we put this chat in the blog? ASAP?
1:18 — Me: Already in the works. Wow. Mike even thinks like me. He is a dream. Albeit a sketchy one.
1:34 — Jersey Mike: Shadiness is my claim to fame, and I am riding that noise to the top.
1:36 — Me: Mike, clearly we are the only ones with lives on this drab Thursday afternoon.
1:51 — Jersey Mike: Right? I want to hear input of others... Although we did get a guest appearance from Humph himself. I'm actually at the gym, but bored.
2:49 — Chris, not to be confused with Big Chris: I have been enjoying this back and forth for the past few hours while relaxing after a hard days work at the radio station, but after hearing this topic come up I must add my input. I wholeheartedly agree with Mike's inheritance of chief blog-writer of Hangin' with Humphrey in Tim's absence.
I believe Mike so far fills the requirements of employment written in the Hangin' with Humphrey business code. I must stress, however, that there is a possibility of random drug testing once hired, so be aware of this. As much as I would love to read Mike's beautifully woven tales of Humphrey, the influence of illegal substances could hinder his ability in performing his tasks. With all this covered, I believe it is up to a simple vote to officially grant Mike the job.
Mike, you have big shoes to fill.
8:59 — Humphrey: Sorry i had a drinking break. my mistake earlier about women draft boards. me of all people should now they dont have rights. what i meant to say is the more i drink the more likely they will consider my actions on the verge of sexual harassment. in regards to the drug testing: 1. hopefully alcohol will not show up. 2. mikes sketchability antics will be able to falsify what ever would show up in the case that anything had shown up (not saying that anything would, we're respectable folks in 1825) 3. peeing in 40oz. OE bottles will replace the small cups usually used, and if its cool consider me miles davis.
back to beer. love you all
Humphrey
p.s. tims shoes arent that big physically but metaphorically..yes.
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