Tag Archives: George Waters

Amateurs vs. Professionals

You know how they changed the Olympics so that professional overpaid basketball players could push out amateurs who play purely for the love of the game?

That’s what’s going to happen today in BeckyLand. Kinda.

I’m linking directly to The Wa Blog, written by my pal George Waters. Lest you be confused, though, he is not an overpaid basketball player. But he is a Professional Award-Winning Humor Columnist.

I, however, retain my amateur rank, blogging purely for the love of the game. But don’t fret. George isn’t pushing me — your lowly, unpaid, not-award-winning amateur — out. I invited him. Because he’s funny. And I’m lazy.

So enjoy! If you want to receive his column directly in your inbox every week, just sign up on his website. I highly recommend doing so. It’s so easy even a professional overpaid basketball player could do it, but I bet McDonalds still won’t be interested in sponsorship.

Here’s his column about the Olympics ….

Those Winter Games

What’s your favorite Olympic sport … real or imagined?

Celebrity Guest Bloggers

How did you enjoy my Celebrity Guest Bloggers while I was playing hooky?

You might be interested to know that I went to Chapman College with both Mike Sigalas and George Waters. I attended many parties with both these guys, including Halloween …

halloween

There’s Mike in his gas station attendant (trucker?) duds. And me in my shepherd’s robe. And George right in front. And flappers and military personnel and a wise guy. Oh, wait. This wasn’t Halloween. It was Choose Your Internship Day. Chapman had some odd requirements back in their halcyon years.

And another, more formal party … maybe this one was Halloween. My memory just isn’t what it used to be.

wedding George

See George?

If you know anyone else I should highlight in the future, send their links privately to me at AmpersandPress@aol.com with “Guest Blogger” in the subject line.

So … how did you enjoy reading columns from George and Mike?

How To Name Your Baby

My kids are all home at the same time so I’m taking the opportunity to step out of BeckyLand for awhile and play with them. But while I’m staycationing, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share another of my very funny writer friends with you.

I was going to introduce George, but he does it so much better than I could. I’m stepping away now, and closing the door ever-so-gently to give you some privacy.

Hi, I’m George Waters.

George copy 2

I’m what they call an “award winning” humor writer. I write a weekly humor column for newspapers, as well as funny freelance essays for other publications and Web sites. I live in Southern California in a flat, baking valley named for San Gabriel who, by all appearances at least, was a saint. I have a wife, a school-age daughter and son, and a rat terrier (rhymes with “rat Perrier”) named Skipper. He is not named Skipper due to any nautical expertise (although he knows his way around a jib), but rather because when he walks at high speed his hind legs actually skip like a happy, recently-promoted middle manager. Some day I will post a video of it here.

I invite you to visit my full-on column-oriented Web site. I built the whole site myself using my mad html skills, some Javascript and an adze. Even if for no other reason, you will want to visit the site because it has a page where you can give me back the hair I had in high school. Do it now, it’s not like you’re getting any work done anyway.

How to name your baby: a curmudgeon’s guide by George Waters

Naming a child is probably the most important thing a parent will ever do for him, unless you count teaching the kid to drive stick. But if you check the parade of baby names people registered last year with Social Security you will see that some parents should not even be allowed this simple task, which also makes you wonder just how safe our roads are.

I would never name a child Chastity, for example, mainly because the kid’s existence kind of undercuts the whole concept there. But if you are going to do it, because you are a fan of irony or something, at least spell it right. Social Security says there is some poor kid out there whose parents named her “Chasity.”

I wish Congress would pass a law requiring all hospitals to hire a spell-checker. This would not only save a lot of kids pain, it would provide rare employment to thousands of otherwise unemployable English grad students.

Next priority: allow only uniform spellings. Allowed (though regrettable) name: Destiny. Disallowed names: Destinee, Destini. Please, parents, let’s not add insult to injuree.

In fact, many psychologists say your name is destiny. A name may potentially cripple a child’s chances for success right off the bat. Show me a CEO or a Supreme Court Justice named Rufus. Show me.

List for me the Senators named Amos, Rayne or Dixie. I am not suggesting everyone march lock-step in the cadence of Emma, Jacob and Madison (or the cadence of Cadence, which somebody named his child last year), but one should use some common sense when setting the tone for a child’s life.

George’s Rule #1: No nouns. No Charity, Patience, Hope, Chance, Essence, Heath, Stone, Blaze, Hunter, Case, Sterling, Meadow; you get the idea. I will allow Borscht. That is my only noun. Borscht. If you’ve got the guts, go for it.

George’s Rule #2: No geography. No Zaire, India, Memphis, Phoenix, Montana, Dakota, London, Ireland, etc. I get it. You conceived the child there. We get it. If I had followed that rule myself, my daughter would be named Ojai now. Let’s all be thankful for Rule #2.

George’s Rule #3: No wacky first/last name combos. If your last name is Cheezetake, do not name your boy Phil E. Seriously, Cheezetake is unfortunate enough on its own. If your last name is Jakissmyhiney, do not name your child Heywood. The judge overseeing the shooting spree trial will not find it as funny as you did.

If you absolutely must name your son Sage, as somebody did last year, please do me a personal favor and name your daughter Tarragon. If you just have to name your kid Darwin, as somebody did last year, please, please, please name his brother Jesus. Then send me a picture of the look on their Sunday school teacher’s face.

If I had no conscience about the grief a kid’s name might cause him, I would love to name my child “Thiscentury.” Think of the possibilities! I could say things like “Hey, are you gonna finish those Brussels sprouts, Thiscentury?” Or “How about you get that homework done sometime, Thiscentury.”

There might be some kind of benefit to forcing your child to toughen up early to abuse like this. That is the only way I can imagine forgiving the parents who, last year, named their little girl Karma. Let us just hope that her last name was not Issabitch.

So, parents out there who are on the cusp of saddling your child with a moniker forever, remember: Journey is the name of a band. Period.

Showcase House of the Male/Female Divide

My kids are all home at the same time so I’m taking the opportunity to step out of BeckyLand for awhile and play with them. But while I’m staycationing, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share another of my very funny writer friends with you.

I was going to introduce George, but he does it so much better than I could. I’m stepping away now, and closing the door ever-so-gently to give you some privacy.

Hi, I’m George Waters.

George copy
I’m what they call an “award winning” humor writer. I write a weekly humor column for newspapers, as well as funny freelance essays for other publications and Web sites. I live in Southern California in a flat, baking valley named for San Gabriel who, by all appearances at least, was a saint. I have a wife, a school-age daughter and son, and a rat terrier (rhymes with “rat Perrier”) named Skipper. He is not named Skipper due to any nautical expertise (although he knows his way around a jib), but rather because when he walks at high speed his hind legs actually skip like a happy, recently-promoted middle manager. Some day I will post a video of it here.

I invite you to visit my full-on column-oriented Web site. I built the whole site myself using my mad html skills, some Javascript and an adze. Even if for no other reason, you will want to visit the site because it has a page where you can give me back the hair I had in high school. Do it now, it’s not like you’re getting any work done anyway.

Showcase House of the Male/Female Divide by George Waters

Interior decoration has never been one of my interests, probably due to a genetic deficiency I have, called “gender.” Chicks dig it, though.

For proof, just sit and watch the droves of well-groomed ladies pouring off the shuttle buses at the Pasadena Showcase House. This celebration of state-of-the-art interior design, held at a different spectacular mansion each spring, boasts a women-to-men visitor ratio, based on my unscientific observations, of about 100 to 1, and the one is inevitably a septuagenarian in a salmon-colored golf shirt. Or me.

Women invariably tour the house in pairs, because dishing the dirt over a designer’s choices with a man is basically a monologue. That is because women and men see interior design differently; women see infinite possibilities, while men see a very long summer kissing drywall. But I agreed to attend with my wife out of a morbid curiosity over what the new “black” is.

Plus, Brownie Points never hurt when you are thinking about buying a new car.

You enter the mansion through something called a “port cochere” (“costly porch”). Before entering, however, since nature was calling, I was glad the event planners had also placed a row of “port au potties” off to the side of the house.

Each room in the manse has been completely re-imagined and decorated by different designers, some of whom stand amidst their creation to answer questions, and are very proud of their work. Therefore, based on my personal experience, I do not recommend phrasing your question like this: “So what’s up with the big ball of moss?” It might be taken as mockery, when intended as good-natured ribbing, which some artistes apparently just don’t “get.”

“Concept” is the main idea of interior design, I know, but please do not tell me that it is necessary to stifle a heartfelt giggle when I see, in a tiny bathroom, a chandelier hanging over a toilet. I’m sorry. That is just funny.

I am clearly a bad audience for “concept,” and I blame my parents for not endowing me with ovaries.

The breakfast room had lovely china plates mounted to the walls just below the ceiling, to give a clue to anyone with any doubt about what a dining room is for. This made me curious, though, just what I would find hot-glued to the bedroom walls.

Outside I came across a little bonsai tree inside a birdcage, but there was no one to explain, so I was left to assume it symbolized man’s enslavement of nature. Or a love of quiet pets.

The sun room ceiling appeared to be paneled with tan fur of some kind, which was striking, but made me feel a bit like I was inside a pony. The library’s most intriguing feature was the stack of books in its fireplace. I have to admit I do this too, when I run out of shelf space, except I doubt if the designers ever light theirs.

In the laundry room, sitting atop the giant, gleaming dryer were four petite vases, each with a tiny orchid, a nice touch, but I have to say that has so been done to death on my dryer at home.

As I left the mansion, the only other man at the place, Mr. Salmon Shirt, caught my eye pleadingly, as his wife led him into the big-decorative-arts-shop-under-a-tent in the garden. I looked away. There are some things a man should never watch another man endure.

George Twitters

My kids are all home at the same time so I’m taking the opportunity to step out of BeckyLand for awhile and play with them. But while I’m staycationing, I thought I’d also take the opportunity to share another of my very funny writer friends with you.

I was going to introduce George, but he does it so much better than I could. I’m stepping away now, and closing the door ever-so-gently to give you some privacy.

Hi, I’m George Waters.

George

I’m what they call an “award winning” humor writer. I write a weekly humor column for newspapers, as well as funny freelance essays for other publications and Web sites. I live in Southern California in a flat, baking valley named for San Gabriel who, by all appearances at least, was a saint. I have a wife, a school-age daughter and son, and a rat terrier (rhymes with “rat Perrier”) named Skipper. He is not named Skipper due to any nautical expertise (although he knows his way around a jib), but rather because when he walks at high speed his hind legs actually skip like a happy, recently-promoted middle manager.

I invite you to visit my full-on column-oriented Web site. I built the whole site myself using my mad html skills, some Javascript and an adze. Even if for no other reason, you will want to visit the site because it has a page where you can give me back the hair I had in high school. Do it now, it’s not like you’re getting any work done anyway.

Famous Twitters Down Thru History by George Waters

Even if you do not own a computer, you have surely heard of “Twitter” by now, a program which allows you to type an instant, live message to people you used to just pick up the phone and talk to.

Twitter suggests that your messages, which are limited to 140 characters out of sadism, should answer the question, “What are you doing right now?” It is a shame that Twitter did not exist in centuries past. Come imagine with me the “tweets” which might have resulted:

Shakespeare: Anne, wilt be home near 7. I burneth my personal records and misspelleth my name on sonnets. This shall driveth historians nuts. lol, Will.

Copernicus: Sweetie, guess what? The earth is not the center of the universe. Press my sackcloth, will you? I’m going to take a beating on this one.

Einstein: Hans, I just nailed “D.” I solved “A,” “B” and “C” yesterday. If I can just figure out what “E” equals by Friday, Vegas here we come, baby.

Patrick Henry: Dearest Sarah, what do you think of this—”Give me liberty or else!” It does not quite have the ‘ring’ I was hoping for. Thoughts?

Pythagoras: O.K., O.K. No need to get your tweets all atwitter. It’s just a theorem.

George Washington: Am crossing the Delaware just to get this portrait painter off my case. Over and back, then he promises to leave. Save me a knish.

Paul Revere: Was it ‘One if by land and two if by sea’? Or ‘Two if by land and’…He held up two, right? It was two? Which one was two? Land? Arrgh!

John Hancock: Just signed the Declaration. Franklin goes “John, now your name will doubtless become synonymous with ‘signature.'” (I think he was drinking).

King Tut: Dude, guess where I’m standing. In my own tomb! Your design guys did an awesome job. But the baboon theme is SO 1400 B.C.—Rethink?

Chaucer: That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune. Twittre rooles!

Hemingway
: So I’m thinking “The Sun Also Rises.” But the more I stare at it, the less it makes sense. The Sun. Also. Rises. Am I just being weird?

Thomas Edison: Light bulb a success. Candlelight now obsolete. Sorry, honey. But I’ll be home early. Let’s run a bubble bath and make believe it’s yesterday.

Alexander Graham Bell: “Mr. Watson, come here. I need you.” They’re putting it in the history books! I should have said “Watson, where’d you hide the Schlitz?”

Charles Darwin: Just had great idea for raising expedition funds: A fish with legs. “Darwin” inside. We’ll sell a million to put on the backs of carriages!

Karl Marx: Vladmir, I need this speech ASAP. I am trying to read your handwriting—”Religion is the opposite of the masses?” I don’t get it. Call me.

Sigmund Freud: Martha, am at the office. Just discovered all behavior is based on repressed sexual urges. Um, call the agency and get me a new secretary.

Neil Armstrong: Woot! I just stuck the landing. There is a definite odor of green cheese, though. Buzz smells it too. Houston, I’m kind of freaked.

Confucius: Ming, I’m at the publisher. He turned down my book. Said I need to build a following first. Does your uncle still own that fortune cookie company?

Personally, I think if you need to know what I am doing right now, you probably have too much time on your hands, and besides, I would only be making up something more interesting for your benefit.

(O.K., if you do have too much time on your hands, you can follow my tweets, embellished as they are. But I will be really disappointed in you.)

Becky here … I saw this in the newspaper the other day. Seems you were on to something, George!

Pre-presidential tweets from the past
By The Associated Press
BOSTON — It seems John Quincy Adams was way ahead of his time. A high school student touring the sixth U.S. president’s archives recently noticed his bite-size diary entries looked a lot like tweets.

His updates are concise enough to put Twitter experts to shame: “Thick fog. Scanty Wind. On George’s Bank. Lat: 42-34. Read Massillon’s Careme Sermons 2 & 3. Ladies are Sick.” This one, from Aug. 6, 1809, comes in at 109 characters, well under Twitter’s 140-character limit.

The entries can be found at twitter.com/JQAdams_MHS.

Blind Marching Band

Even though my friend George was in charge of the ENTIRE Tournament of Roses Parade, I had to find out about one of Pasadena’s invited marching bands from a news station in New Zealand!

The Ohio State School for the Blind has the honor of being the first blind marching band in the United States.

Yes, you read that right. A blind marching band. The director’s motto is “If it can’t be done, let’s do it anyway.” What a remarkable man to throw down a gauntlet like this to his kids and what extraordinary students to not only accept the challenge, but to do it up right.

In case you were wondering … yes, I got verklempt as I watched. I’m looking for footage of their Rose Parade appearance, but can’t find it. Anyone?

I’m awed and inspired. Take a look at the video and tell me what you think.

So Many Beckys

I was reminded of my friend and funnyman George Waters when I googled myself recently. He’s an award-winning newspaper humorist who wrote, among other things, a funny column about contacting other folks named George Waters.

I check periodically to see what comes up when Becky Clark is googled. You never know what’s going on out there in cyberland, after all.

15,200 hits of Becky Clarks. It boggles the mind. But taking a page from George’s book, I didn’t just skim for me, me, me this time.

Let me first say I was disappointed that I didn’t even come up first. Apparently, real estate agents are more popular than children’s authors. Or maybe Georgia is more popular than Colorado. Either way, it stings.

Oooh, this is exciting … I’m Berkshire Blog by Karen Christensen’s favorite author! She says, “Here’s that photo of Becky and me, standing in front of the (little) basketball hoop that’s going in the playroom …”

Bummer. Not me.

I’m also a musician with tour dates, songs, videos, pictures, blogs, band information, downloads AND more!

I’m two different photographers … Becky Clark Photography and Becky Clark Photography of Columbus, GA.

I’m a top executive.

I’m a journalist at The Clare Sentinel.

And a free speech advocate. Oh, wait. That really IS me!

But the thing I’m most proud of is how I’ve excelled in the world of sports … in softball, in soccer and in track and field.

I’m “crazy_blondie11” and “acceptable_InThe80s” and I go around saying things like, “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?” … and … “Rage were actually beyond amazing, totally nearly cried. Mon the Rage!”

I don’t recall this, but Becky Clark has had a love of horses for as long as she can remember. She finally convinced her parents to let her take riding lessons at age 11.

My memory is that I had an irrational fear of horses. But that was after I got between a stampeding herd and their dinner bell.

I’m a Miami beach personal chef.

I’m an Appellant which works out fine because I’m also Los Angeles lawyer Becky Clark.

And I’ve got international flair. Becky Clark — Blogues, Fotos e muito mais no WordPress! Infelizmente, aqui não temos nenhum post com aquela tag. Você pode visitar um dos sites abaixo.

That one’s gotta be me. I have a blogue and some fotos on WordPress, after all.

So who are YOU?!