My Name is not Randy

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue." 

~Johnny Cash, Lyrics by Shel Silverstein. 

Although Shel wrote poems for children, he was a frightening looking man.

It has been several weeks since I have last written on the blog. The reasons for this will probably be addressed in a future post, but the simple explanation is that I did not have a lot of time to write on the blog.

One topic I considered addressing was the migration of some football coaches to the East. (Does the phrase "White Bronco headed east" ring any bells?) I am bracing myself for a large beat down by the U of Fruits next week. Their QB probably will throw for some unseemly amount of yards and will have no interceptions. The guy cannot even complete 10 passes against most teams, but we will let him throw us blind. He always does. I also predict that we will return a kickoff for a touchdown, but that it will be called back for a block in the back. Oh, and watch for too many men in the backfield. That's one of their pet penalties this year.

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The post for today is sort of a filler post and may only be for the most dedicated readers. I know that there are many of you. Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration.

Several events over the past few weeks have reminded me of some of my more ardent pet peeves. As you may have deduced from the blog already, I am rather easily annoyed by incompetence and general baffoonery. Pretty much society in general. This is what some people refer to as "being a curmudgeon."

One sort of major pet peeve that I have is when I tell people my name and they then ask if I go by Randy. Umm, no. If my name was Randy, I would have said "My name is Randy." I wonder if these are the same people that assume men named William go by Willie or men named Joseph go by Joey. And of course, every Robert wants to be called Bobby or Bubba. That'll get you far in life.

Some people do not even ask; they assume. I am aware of the fact that back in the 1960s or whatever, every man shortened his name to something ending in "-ey" or "-ie." The people that assume are usually from that generation. But I also get assumers among my peers. Those good people that do not understand social cues. Bless their hearts.

As of late, when asked if I go by the name Randy, I usually reply that my friends call me by my actual name and my enemies call me Randy. No one has questioned me further after that. Another move that I use is to tell people who think that my name is Randy that I actually prefer the name Trent with an accent on the "Y." That is, "Trýnt." Very subtle, but very effective.  No one has ever been able to come back from that one.

The reason that I do not go by the name Randy is because it reminds me too much of a man with a mustache and a mullet:

Randy Johnson aka The Big Unit

This is not to say that every Randy has a haircut from the 1980s / wants to look like KC Masterpiece circa 2013. In fact, Randy Johnson is the only Randy I know with a mullet. But I personally do not want to risk the association.

This photo does not do the mullet justice.

Another pet peeve (if you can call it that) is group projects. Because the end of the semester is coming closer, I have had to endure some group projecting. My current group has a tag team duo consisting of the cro magnon man and a guy that looks like a white Shrek with a man bun. So far, Cro Mag has done a sort of decent job. He at least managed to show up with the poster. Shrek (or is it Shreky?)........Shrek is still looking for the Muffin Man. And Shrek smokes cigarettes. Not to be judgmental, but that pretty much sums it up right there. If you are born after the 1980s and you smoke, there is no hope for you. (Okay, smoking is also one of my pet peeves).

This, but with a man bun.

By some miracle, my group managed to actually give a decent presentation. Correction, Cro Mag and I gave a decent presentation. White Shrek demonstrated how to swig Diet Coke while at the front of a classroom. He did a very good job of it. Much Diet Coke was consumed. And he did it without saying a word. Unfortunately, he was not being graded on his ability to consume soda pop. But if he had been, he would have received extra credit.

I could go on about group projects, but I will sum it up by saying that sometimes you just need to put two grown men on your back and carry them up the hill.

I did have a group project in high school that went pretty decently. We ended up dressing up in clown costumes and I played something on the guitar. This was for a math class (#PublicSkoolsWerkGood). We were the first group to present. We were also the last. After our presentation I think the teacher did not dare go on with the rest of the presentations. Who knows what the Honz would have done. After all, she did end up with someone from the U of Fruits.