Funny Messy Life

   My pastor recently delivered a sermon that I needed to pay extra attention to. It’s not that I don’t always pay close attention to the sermons, but anybody who’s spent much time in the congregation of a church will tell you that on occasion a person’s mind can wander. When I was an early teen, I was in love with the preacher’s daughter and so my mind was on the two of us skipping gaily, hand-in-hand through meadows of dandelions while the theme song from The Neverending Story played on the wind in the background. In fact, thinking about her now brings back an embarrassing memory involving her from those days and I’ll tell you about it at the conclusion of this episode. I’m Michael Blackston and this is my Funny, Messy, Life.    Nowadays, I’m more apt to stay engaged with the sermon and only mentally stray when he mentions food, or football, or food. But this recent sermon was different because he was going into detail about deaconship in the church - what it really means and what’s expected of someone who’

   The state of Georgia got its orders like every other state did. Our official decree was something along the lines of, “Stay in your homes for the love of all that is pure and holy. Keep yourselves barricaded behind a toilet paper fort if you’re among those who hoarded it and kept good, sane, decent folk from being able to get any. If you’re among the good, sane, decent folk who did not find it necessary to be a greedy, inconsiderate imbecile (I used the word moron at first, but changed it because it sounded mean and now you know how I really feel about it) and so find yourself without toilet paper, just do the best you can and you will have your reward in heaven. Either way, do not leave your house until the end of eternity.”    Now, you might think that this episode will be about COVID-19 and the quarantine, but nay. I only mention it because at least you probably didn’t have to be quarantined, safely hidden away from The Rona, only to be rudely attacked by another virus - one that lies in wait. One that

   The world has changed overnight. Things that only happen in the movies are playing out right before our eyes and it’s pretty surreal knowing we’re going through a major historical event. As COVID-19 continues to be a big, giant butt hole, humanity has had to learn a lot of new techniques to cope, especially when it comes to quarantine. Looking on the bright side is one of them. For instance, this pandemic may be horrible, but at least we’ve got something of our own now that we can throw in the faces of future generations like our forefathers have in the past.      “Boy, you don’t know how good you got it. Back in my day, they forced us to stay indoors … in the air conditionin’ … told us we couldn’t work for weeks and all we had to occupy us was eatin’ tater chips and layin’ around in our pajamas all day watchin’ Netflix and postin’ self-righteous memes on the Facebook!”      But for me, and maybe for you as well, I’ve found that finding stuff to keep myself entertained has brought me back to some things in

   I’ve mentioned several times over the span of this podcast that I make my living as an artist. Mostly, I etch on black granite gravestones, but I haven’t talked much about the fact that I dabble in several other artistic mediums. My entire life - as far back as I can remember - has revolved around some form of creativity and for the most part, it’s a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, nothing’s all pros and no cons. When people make the comment, I wish I was creative, I want to ask, “Really? Because it ain’t all pretty landscapes, standing ovations, and sipping from your tea glass with one pinkie out.” So while I won’t lie and tell you I’d change a thing, because I love being the creative type, I have to admit that there are plenty of drawbacks to being an artist as well and those are what I want tell you about in this episode.    I’m Michael Blackston and this is what covers the canvas of my Funny Messy Life.   _________________________      Most artists I know realized they had the skill to create early in

   As I sit in a fast food restaurant creating this episode, my son is 15 years old and wants to drive everywhere. In a few months, he’ll be going for his driver’s license and I’ll begin the era of parenting when my heart thumps a million beats per second every time he’s out on the road by himself. And he’s doing really well. He takes Driver’s Ed right now as well, so he’s getting plenty of practice, but he prefers me to go out with him to his mother, who apparently goes into a screaming panic whenever he makes the tiniest mistake, like crossing into the oncoming lane when there’s oncoming traffic and that oncoming traffic is a tractor trailer. I’m cooler in those situations and give constructive criticism like, Should probably get back in your lane, instead of doing like Kayla, who would grab the handle above the door and scream, WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE! I understand it, but I’m the one who taught my wife to drive and there are a couple of quips from those days I thought you might find interesting. And there’s o

   I love to tell stories, especially in writing, and if I can use the responses from the stuff I’ve created as a gauge, I’d say I’m pretty darn good at it. I’m not tooting my own horn here. All a writer has to go by is audience response, but there might not have been a response to give if it hadn’t been for one woman - my eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Thornton. I’d like to thank her for the way she encouraged me, but I can’t. She’s not with us anymore and I waited too late to tell her just how much her hard-nosed approach made a difference in my life.    I’m Michael Blackston and this is an important part of my Funny Messy Life.    I wasn’t a great student. I wasn’t even a good student, but I had something most prepubescent boys care nothing about. Potential.    My mother was an elementary school teacher for most of her working life and so in the small, southern town I grew up in, all the other teachers knew me. I was Brenda’s son - the one whose summer breaks were cut short because I was made to go a w

   I work in the death industry. That’s the way I put it when I don’t feel like going into detail about what I do for a living and would rather you left me alone about it. It’s not very often that I have to give that as an answer because I usually like to talk to people about my job. But sometimes it’s been a tough day and all I want to think about are cuddly puppies and cheese steak sandwiches, so if you ask me what I do, I’ll reply, “I work in the death industry,” and that’ll probably end the conversation. But not always. In this episode, we won’t talk too much about what I do for a living, but because of my vocation, I hear some strange stories and I also frequently think about how my own passing will be handled. I’m Michael Blackston and this is my Funny, Messy, Life.    ___________________________________    Because I etch pretty pictures on gravestones for a living, and by the way, that seems like a decently short answer to give as well and isn’t as creepy, people will sometimes ask what my own tombston

   I’m a guy and guys have lots of different things about them that make them unique. There is one universal thing most guys have in common, though, and that is a deep love and appreciation for the comic form known as Bathroom Humor. There are occasionally women I’ll run into who understand the genius of this art form and my wife is not one of them. I will mention a lady a little later on who would go toe to toe with any man or boy when it comes to the intricacies of the humble fart, but for now, I have a story to tell that I teased several episodes back. You see, there is no better bathroom humor than humor that actually begins in a bathroom, so now I shall regale you with the time I peed on my leg. I’m Michael Blackston and this is Funny Messy Life. ____________________      It starts with The Statler Brothers. Growing up in the 1980s with parents and family who favored country music, my wife fell in love with the tight harmonies of The Statlers. She didn’t force their music on me when we started dating bec

   I’m always the last one to the party when it comes to whatever whippors the younger generation is snapping. Just when I felt comfortable using words like “Bad” to describe something as good, I was told that I’m behind the times. Suddenly “Dope” was the term used for something good; no longer the term we used for drugs. Add to that the fact that being in possession of a particularly powerful drug meant that you had gotten your hands on “The Good Stuff”, and life could get confusing. This was all years ago while I was still a kid. I was the fogey among my friends, I suppose.    But as I get older, I find the trend of lagging culturally behind has remained in place while the new slang gets more and more weird. At one point in time, the phrase, “Sup Yo” was an admonition for a dude named Yo to partake in a meal or a glass of tea. Now it’s a question you ask in passing to your buddy or your ex gym teacher if he was the sort of educator who liked to “hang” with you or considered you his “homey”. Even recently, I

Feets Don't Fail Me Now For years it went something like this … “KICK! And TURN! And BACK! And BEND! And … Arms loose, ladies; Guys, keep those shoulders back. Posture, people. POSTURE! We open in two weeks! Okay, keep it goin’ annnnd … KICK! And TURN! And BACK! And SP- … No, no, Michael. It’s BACK and SPIN, not SPIN, KICK, BACK. No, no, no, NO! There’s no LUNGE in this routine, Michael. Stick to the choreography. Here we go … KICK! And BACK! And … Michael … Michael … MICHAEL! WHY ARE YOU THRUSTING LIKE THAT? GET OUT MICHAEL. GEEEETTTTT OOOUUUUTTTTTT!” To put it mildly, my dancing has always resembled something like a kindergartner’s recital if all the kindergartners were blindfolded and on roller skates. I Can’t help it, though. I was born a singer and an actor, not a dancer. I have spent my entire life avoiding anything that had the remotest indication of movement in rhythm and because of this behavior, it’s with no surprise that my reaction to the suggestion of a dance in any form has always been, “… (blin

   I’m changing into someone I never thought I’d be. When I look into the mirror, it’s beginning to be hard to recognize the man staring back at me. This new me is becoming exotic; a word I don’t think would have ever been used to describe any of my attributes. And to others, it probably still wouldn’t. But I see it coming. It’s right there in my mindand I like it. This new me will be debonair and dark and, well … Hispanic.    I am slowly turning myself into Gomez Addams for my role in The Addams Family – The Musical, and I must say I think it’s gonna be pretty dang awesome!    I have to admit that when I first heard that this show was going to be the musical for our local theatre’s 2016 season, I was quite bummed out about it. I had never heard the soundtrack and knew nothing of the story. All I knew was that I had tired of Broadway’s leaning toward making musicals from TV shows and movies. None of it really impressed me and most felt forced; like an attempt to capitalize on something that had already been m

   If you have a phone in your pocket, you know the frustration that comes with what I’m getting ready to talk about. Telemarketers and the annoying trends most of us have to deal with on a daily basis. There’s something to be said about the days of good old when you made a call by picking up an enormous receiver that weighed approximately fifty pounds and asked a woman on the other end whose job it was to physically switch around wires on a big board in front of her - her name was always Marge - and you asked her to patch you in to Big Al at the market so you could have some eggs, butter, and bread delivered because you wanted a buttery egg sandwich. Back then, a telemarketer would have to get through Marge and her nosey wall of defense in order to bother you, but today, well … that’s what this episode covers. I’m Michael Blackston and you’re patched into a party line called my Funny Messy Life.    Today’s technology is great for a lot of things, but it also makes us vulnerable and gives easy access to pre

   It hasn’t been a very fun year for me as a college football fan. It’s weird that I should say that, but it’s been a weird season. My team won all of their except for one and I’m pretty sure if we played that one over again, we’d take the win. It was one of those fluke games we were supposed to dominate, but stuff just kept happening. Then we went to the conference championship game to face the LSU Tigers and it went exactly the way I expected it to.    So you might be asking me why it wasn’t fun? My team did really well for the most part and things look promising for the future.    The reason it hasn’t been fun is that most Georgia Bulldog fans will tell you that the majority of the wins weren’t pretty and the entire season was spent with a lump in our throats, waiting for the shoe to drop. And through the wins, we knew what we were going to face in the postseason, - that being one of the most amazing quarterbacks I’ve ever watched, who played for LSU. We’re talking about a dude who ran his offense like he

If I told you I had the best dog in the world growing up, you’d probably disagree with me. You’d tell me about your dog, how it was the best dog in the world and if anybody else was listening nearby, they’d interrupt our kingly canine conversation with a story of their own. I understand that and I’m not here to argue, but when I was trying to decide what this episode would be about, I came to a stop when I thought about Butch. It’s been a while since I thought about him, but while it might be just my opinion that he was the best dog a boy could have, I believe his memory deserves a little attention. There won’t be much funny in this episode, or even too much that’s messy, but there will be plenty of life. Butch’s life. It’s the story of one truly amazing dog.   I don’t remember how old I was when we got Butch or the circumstances. Actually, I don’t even remember getting him - just that he was there for the best parts of my childhood. Butch was a black lab, mostly. I think he had a little bit of other stuff mi

Are you old enough to have had one of those moments when you try to do something you, as we say in the south, used-ta-could, but suddenly realize y’ain’t-never-no-more? Now, I’ll get back to that question in a few seconds and let you ponder it while I make an aside about the two weird southern phrases you just read/heard. Used-ta-could. Jeff Foxworthy has touched on this one in his standup routine and I usually try not to use other people’s material, but I absolutely refuse to allow him to take sole ownership of that one. Used-ta-could has been in our Deep South vocabulary since Spot was a pup. What I mean by that is I was already using the term naturally, without being taught it, when I was still knee-high to a grasshopper. It’s in our DNA. And if you need a quick explanation about what it means so you can use this gem to add some color to your own conversation, it simply means this: Used - ta (Once upon a time) Could (I was able). And then there’s Y’ain’t-never-no-more. Pretty self explanatory, if you ask

I’m a man of extremes, apparently. My wife has mentioned more than one time, in the midst of an argument, that it’s either all or nothing with me and that makes her want to crawl up the wall. Of course, then I tell her if she’s gonna go up the wall, I think she might as well go ALL THE WAY up it because I’m a man of extremes and it’s all or nothing with me. When it comes to this podcast, it’s more of the same. I pounded out the text of the last episode and then promptly waited maybe six weeks to record it. In my defense, I had a lot of stuff that happened and slowed down the process, like studio woes, equipment woes, procrastination woes, and a cat that got into a cabinet full of catnip. If you’d have seen that, you’d have said, “Whoa!” Now, I want to get the show out in a reasonable amount of time, but I had nothing written or planned, so I’m picking out some pretty random thoughts and stories to tell. I think I’ll start in Satan’s anus because that's what it feels like outside and it's OCTOBER, people! (By

In the last episode, I talked all about my two years spent as a prisoner in the small loans industry. And while I was building the back story, I mentioned my stint as a Walmart portrait photographer, which brought back memories I thought I’d like to tell you about those days. But then I started calling back to my entire work career and I realized I’ve got a whole barrel of stories to tell you about things that happened in a variety of jobs I worked before settling in as a professional artist. So in the heart of staying in the same lane, this episode will be me telling you those things - things that range from falling babies and football catches, smelling like a French hooker for two reasons at the same time, neither of which actually involves hookers, and an uncomfortable situation that included insurance, a woman in a leg cast, and hard core porn. It won’t be an explicit episode, but it will revolve around some adult themes, so if you don’t want to have to answer any questions you hoped you wouldn’t have to

Previously, I mentioned a part of my life that I still have nightmares about and I hesitate to even go into it now, but I promised I would tell you some of the stories and I figure it’s best to just get it out of the way. To give it a nice name, I was a bill collector. Some called me The Loan Man and others called me things I can’t say in decent company. So, in episode 23, I’m gonna take you from day one, through some stuff in the middle, and all the way to my take this job and shove it moment - a situation you won’t blame me for, I promise. In fact, you’re gonna wish I’d punched the guy. I’m Michael Blackston and you should know that I’ve tried to forget the days I’m getting ready to tell you about, but I guess I owe you some transparency when it comes to my Funny Messy Life. Sometimes when you hear someone say hindsight is twenty-twenty, it’s a cute little lesson you might have learned, like: I shouldn’t have financed that living room set at 85 percent interest, or; What happens in Vegas doesn’t actually st

They call them Fur Babies. I consider myself to be a strong, manly, straight-to-the-point kind of guy … usually. But I have to admit that I’ve embraced the term Fur Babies. It fits. They’re furry, for one and also, they’re my babies. I have four of them right now, three of which live in my house and I consider them a part of the family, not just pets. They’re the reason I’ve settled on pet memorials as my new line of business that I’ll be focusing on heavily over the next few months. But I’m not going to tell you about the Fur Babies my family currently cares for. I’m going to talk about some of my hairy children from over the past 25 years of mine and my wife’s marriage. Because if you call me crazy about animals, you’d be right to call her completely off her rocker for them. I’m Michael Blackston and this is episode 22 of Funny Messy Life. I feel like I need to make a disclaimer first. When I started writing out the blog for this episode, I wanted to go a little funny, but also a little warm and fuzzy. I di

I’m not sure if anybody’s ever done research on why Americans become rabid, buggy-eyed butt hornets when we get behind the wheel, but if they ever do figure it out, I want to be among the first ones to know. I know it’s easy to want to point a finger at the other guy - usually the middle one - when there’s one road, but more than one driver. But whenever something goes wrong, I’m finding that nine times out of ten, I’m the one with the problem. So I’ll call myself a butt hornet when it fits, but there’ve been occasions when I did nothing wrong and still got the raw end of the deal. I enjoy driving, for the most part, except when other people do things that get all up under my skin. I’ll list a few examples so you’ll get a solid picture of the kinds of things I’m talking about: Going too slow in front of me. Going too slow beside me. Going too slow when you’re pulling out in front of me. Going too slow when you’re making your turn in front of me. Pulling out in front of me. Making a turn in front of me. BEING