Check out this article! It's quite humorous! - July 5, 2008
Freaking Out An Old Geezer Gal
RUNNIN’ THE ROADS By Barbara Sharik
A recent road trip took me a few miles outside Louisiana – to Greenville, Mississippi. Daughter Theresa and friend Carla drove up from Gulfport and I crossed the Mighty Mississip into Greenville to meet the girls at the Comfort Inn on the levy.
Right from the giddy-up we had a chuckle. A sign posted at the check-in counter, titled “Greenville Water” read: “We welcome you, our valued guest, to Delta Hospitality at its best. You may be wondering why our water is brown; it’s the Cypress tree roots in the springs underground. Y‘all can drink our water and bathe without fear, for no one lives longer than the folks around here!”
Sure ‘nuff, the water flowing from the spigots was brown as a glass of Southern iced tea. Why the bathroom fixtures were sparkling white and not stained was beyond me. I serve on a couple water boards and wondered if the “Cypress tree roots” theory would fly next time we had a bit of discolored water.
An old-fashioned Piccadilly Cafeteria was located at the Greenville Mall so that’s where we headed for lunch. The Greenville Mall’s small, which to me is the best kind, having outgrown the joy of shopping ages ago.
Next on the agenda, and the main reason for the trip, we met up with Carol Plunk and her band (Jason Edwards on drums and Rumulous Brown on electric guitar), and her friend Kristi at the Spectator Pub & Eatery. Renown for its Southern cuisine, Spectator’s menu featured such fine fare as home-cooked fried green tomatoes, French fried sweet potatoes, stuffed baked potatoes to die for, fresh Gulf shrimp lightly dusted in flour and deep fried homemade potato chips, fresh baked bread, plus several dozen more delightful dishes. I hadn’t had such a spectacular Southern repast since eating crawfish etouffee better’n mine and crème brulee at The Atrium in Monroe when I was keynote speaker for the Louisiana Volunteers for Family and Community 77th annual convention a couple months ago.
Carol Plunk is a good friend of Theresa and Carla. I’d listened to her albums so I knew it’d be a treat to see and hear her in person. A Tennessee native, Carol’s loaded with diverse musical skills. She sings love songs, throws in stuff wrapped up with country twang, and brings down the house with pure hard-core rock. An amazing guitarist, she’s lightening-fast when the song demands or soulfully sweet when she just plunks those strings Carol-style. A musical award winner, she’s made a name for herself in
Memphis and occasionally performs with Patrice Pike from the 2007 TV show Rockstar Supernova. She does a Memorial Day weekend standing gig at Peg Leg Pete’s in Pensacola Beach every year. Check her out at www.carolplunk.com.
I can safely say I enjoyed the company of daughter Theresa and Carla and delicious
food and good Carol Plunk music. But I have to admit, I was shaken to the core
viewing the latest dance craze sweeping the nation. Am I that old and outta touch? How
do I delicately describe a dance that freaks out an old geezer gal like me? I’ve been
around long enough that I’m not easily freaked out. Maybe the name of what the
two-hundred-plus folks were doing out on the dance floor in between Carol’s sets will
be descriptive enough. Called by several names, the most common is Grinding. It’s
also known as Freaking (which is what it does to me), Jacking, Booty Popping, The
Nasty, and The Nutt and Butt. Yikes!
I know music and dances of each generation is often adversely critiqued by previous age groups but this dance takes anything I did as a teen to a new level. Apparently, this Hip-Hop dance usually done to rap music is not only popular at night clubs but also amongst teens. School administrators across the country are having a difficult time keeping a lid on teen hormones. Not only banned in Boston schools, it’s also banned from California to New York City. And rightly so. One word – explicit.
I left Spectator’s with a catch in my left hip and a pain in my sciatica just watching the contortions on the dance floor. It’s a young person’s dance. Anyone over the age of 25 would likely wind up in traction.
Barbara Sharik makes her home at Wit's End in Jones, Louisiana with a couple old dogs, young dogs and several stupid dogs, a cat, a talking cockatiel and a white dove. She's active in civic affairs, serves as a Justice of the Peace, a Notary Public, is the Clerk for the Village of Bonita and a columnist for the Bastrop Daily Enterprise. She has authored several books. You can e-mail Barbara at barbsharikvail@hotmail.com.
RUNNIN’ THE ROADS By Barbara Sharik
A recent road trip took me a few miles outside Louisiana – to Greenville, Mississippi. Daughter Theresa and friend Carla drove up from Gulfport and I crossed the Mighty Mississip into Greenville to meet the girls at the Comfort Inn on the levy.
Right from the giddy-up we had a chuckle. A sign posted at the check-in counter, titled “Greenville Water” read: “We welcome you, our valued guest, to Delta Hospitality at its best. You may be wondering why our water is brown; it’s the Cypress tree roots in the springs underground. Y‘all can drink our water and bathe without fear, for no one lives longer than the folks around here!”
Sure ‘nuff, the water flowing from the spigots was brown as a glass of Southern iced tea. Why the bathroom fixtures were sparkling white and not stained was beyond me. I serve on a couple water boards and wondered if the “Cypress tree roots” theory would fly next time we had a bit of discolored water.
An old-fashioned Piccadilly Cafeteria was located at the Greenville Mall so that’s where we headed for lunch. The Greenville Mall’s small, which to me is the best kind, having outgrown the joy of shopping ages ago.
Next on the agenda, and the main reason for the trip, we met up with Carol Plunk and her band (Jason Edwards on drums and Rumulous Brown on electric guitar), and her friend Kristi at the Spectator Pub & Eatery. Renown for its Southern cuisine, Spectator’s menu featured such fine fare as home-cooked fried green tomatoes, French fried sweet potatoes, stuffed baked potatoes to die for, fresh Gulf shrimp lightly dusted in flour and deep fried homemade potato chips, fresh baked bread, plus several dozen more delightful dishes. I hadn’t had such a spectacular Southern repast since eating crawfish etouffee better’n mine and crème brulee at The Atrium in Monroe when I was keynote speaker for the Louisiana Volunteers for Family and Community 77th annual convention a couple months ago.
Carol Plunk is a good friend of Theresa and Carla. I’d listened to her albums so I knew it’d be a treat to see and hear her in person. A Tennessee native, Carol’s loaded with diverse musical skills. She sings love songs, throws in stuff wrapped up with country twang, and brings down the house with pure hard-core rock. An amazing guitarist, she’s lightening-fast when the song demands or soulfully sweet when she just plunks those strings Carol-style. A musical award winner, she’s made a name for herself in
Memphis and occasionally performs with Patrice Pike from the 2007 TV show Rockstar Supernova. She does a Memorial Day weekend standing gig at Peg Leg Pete’s in Pensacola Beach every year. Check her out at www.carolplunk.com.
I can safely say I enjoyed the company of daughter Theresa and Carla and delicious
food and good Carol Plunk music. But I have to admit, I was shaken to the core
viewing the latest dance craze sweeping the nation. Am I that old and outta touch? How
do I delicately describe a dance that freaks out an old geezer gal like me? I’ve been
around long enough that I’m not easily freaked out. Maybe the name of what the
two-hundred-plus folks were doing out on the dance floor in between Carol’s sets will
be descriptive enough. Called by several names, the most common is Grinding. It’s
also known as Freaking (which is what it does to me), Jacking, Booty Popping, The
Nasty, and The Nutt and Butt. Yikes!
I know music and dances of each generation is often adversely critiqued by previous age groups but this dance takes anything I did as a teen to a new level. Apparently, this Hip-Hop dance usually done to rap music is not only popular at night clubs but also amongst teens. School administrators across the country are having a difficult time keeping a lid on teen hormones. Not only banned in Boston schools, it’s also banned from California to New York City. And rightly so. One word – explicit.
I left Spectator’s with a catch in my left hip and a pain in my sciatica just watching the contortions on the dance floor. It’s a young person’s dance. Anyone over the age of 25 would likely wind up in traction.
Barbara Sharik makes her home at Wit's End in Jones, Louisiana with a couple old dogs, young dogs and several stupid dogs, a cat, a talking cockatiel and a white dove. She's active in civic affairs, serves as a Justice of the Peace, a Notary Public, is the Clerk for the Village of Bonita and a columnist for the Bastrop Daily Enterprise. She has authored several books. You can e-mail Barbara at barbsharikvail@hotmail.com.