Ad Hudler's Blog, page 12

A lesson in epithet writing

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On the gravestone of Meriwether Lewis, just south of Nashville:

In the language of Mr. Jefferson, his courage was undaunted, his firmness and perseverance yielded to nothing but impossibilities. Rigid disciplinarian yet tender. Father of three. Committed to his charge. Honest, disinterested liberal with a sound understanding and a scrupulous fidelity to truth.

How to Fail in the Bed and Breakfast Business: Case #284RE3

1. Have a yappy dog greet visitors with a loud, aggressive bark.

2. Hang a AAA sign outside but tell your guests you no longer give AAA discounts ("I guess we should take it down -- right?")

3. Decorate the house with statues of babies and crucifixes, some of them three feet high.

4. Without knowing the political persuasion of your guests, engage them in a rant about Democrats and food stamps and white trash.

My Nomination for Book Club of the Month

I talk to a lot of book clubs, both in person and via Skype. It's a great way to connect with readers -- and I'm always fascinated by their insights into my characters. Since the protagonist of two of my novels, Househusband Linc Menner, is autobiographical in nature, oftentimes the feedback I get from book clubs feels like therapy ... like I'm being deconstructed on a shrink's couch.

I recently had the pleasure of visiting two book clubs in Bowling Green, KY. These ladies know how to treat a visiting author! They put me up for free in a Hilton Garden Inn for the night, which meant we could drink and talk long into the evening. They bought me a great bottle of bourbon. They fed me wonderful food. Their questions were insightful and, at times, challenging.

Sometimes book clubs have names. This one was called BIBLE, an acronym for Bitches Intoxicated By Literature, Etc. They meet on Wednesday nights, which is commonly a church night. Hence, the name.

My new friend Kristie picked me up at my hotel in her husband's car. The second I saw it I stopped and thought, "Oh, God. No effing way!"

Indeed, it was a tight fit. It took me awhile to get out of the thing, but I managed ... knowing that a good bottle of bourbon was waiting for me inside.

Thank you, ladies, for a great evening of books, food and discussion.

A Nashville Lesson in Lexicon

I've long known that the nickname for a woman who has many gay male friends is "fag hag." It's not a nice phrase, especially if you're a younger woman, but because of Americans' love of rhymes and labels it has stuck.

We live in a downtown highrise with a relatively large gay community so, of course, many of our friends are gay. But my wife and her female friends in the building say they don't like the name "fag hag" because it sounds too old and ugly.

"That's simple to fix," said one of the gay friends. "You're not a fag hag -- you're a fruit fly."

Insert smiley face here.

Discrimination in Music City

My friend Steve, whom you all know as my Kansas Correspondent, is married to my wife's childhood friend who came to visit us last weekend. (As girls, the two of them were known to play Barbie Torture Chamber; more on that some other time.)

At any rate, we came upon this sign somewhere in downtown Nashville:

Steve's antics aside, take a look at the bottom "no" designation. No Scottish Terriers. Evidently greyhounds are allowed, as are small fluffy dogs and beagles. I'd never seen a "No Dogs" picture highlight a specific breed. Did the sign's creator hate Scotties? Or love them?

I'm still looking for the "Scotties Only" water fountain.

Tropical Diary: Post #544W1

Found in the bottom of my filing cabinet drawer:



And a sideways shot:

I think we can deduce that this poor little guy died of dehydration.

My (failed) Adult Science Fair Experiment

The weeds had taken over a part of my Florida yard, and because we were putting the house on the market I knew I had to spruce things up. 'Thought I'd save some money at the same time. Since things grow so fast down here in this tropical climate, I surely didn't have to lay an entire carpet of new sod -- right? Couldn't I do something similar to hair plugs in bald men? Within days I'd have a new head of full green grass ...


Yeah, I know: the answer is no. Looks pretty sad, doesn't it? Can I call it "art?"

Why Publix is my favorite supermarket chain: Reason #2554T5

I usually don't like these mixed bouquets but this one included roses, hydrangeas, lilies -- and none of them dyed with fake color. This was $26 but worth every penny.

Admittedly, I'm obsessed with things botanical. The protagonist of two of my novels (Househusband and Man of the House) was landscape architect for the stars of Hollywood. And did I ever tell y'all that my great grandfather was a world-class gardener from Germany, who emigrated to the U.S., where he grew immense award-winning mums for two U.S. presidents?
Or was it 3? ... Mom? Was it 3 or 2?

My new friend

Those of you who know me through my books and blog are well aware that I have a tendency to lean toward junior high in the humor department. I think I've met my match. The other night we had new friends over for cocktails (he, the husband of the duo, is pushing 70) and while we were talking he started playing with the cheese and crackers and fruit in the nearby fruit bowl ... and this is what he came up with.

Yes, those are nipples made of brie cheese and almonds, atop oranges.
I salute you, George! Pee-Wee Herman would be most proud!

On good signage, less is more.

This is a new sign near the big bridge at the northernmost point of the Natchez Trace Parkway, outside Nashville. Over the years, about 150 people have jumped from the bridge to end their lives.
I thought this was beautifully handled, as far as the writing goes.

Photo credit: The Tennessean.com