Fixin' in Arkansas

I suppose the title of this post is a bit misleading. After spending the last four or five days in Arkansas (specifically Hot Springs Village), I am gaining a new found respect for the South.
Truth be told, unless you've spent time in a given area of the country, you will have misconceptions of the unknown. Allow me to debunk some of these myths...but before doing so, let's remember, just about every state in America has some "backwoodsesque (sp?) areas" (aka hicktowns). You will come across these areas in Minnesota, California, and (seemingly more authentic versions) in Arkansas.
First, let me start with the people. In one word: welcoming. As a Minnesotan for the last 22 years, I have come to hear the saying "Minnesota Nice" for as long as I can remember. Forget about that. I find that to be one of the gross misrepresentations about Minnesota. This has become more true to me after experiencing the "Southern Hospitality" that the people of Hot Springs, AR have shown us. Even the people at the Chick-fil-a would start conversations with you that didn't take creepy turns (don't act like that doesn't happen at Burger King). My theory behind the overwhelming niceness of people is that the people in Arkansas are selfaware. They know how they are viewed by the rest of America (or the North--er, shall we say Yankees). Why not try and change any and all misconceptions, or, at the very least do their best to be "sneaky-nice" the first time they meet us? With that said (and with the exception of the asshat from Texas that I flipped off), the people of Hot Springs are the nicest I've encountered to date.
The second belief I would like to try and disprove is--well, perhaps it's best if I just give you a converstaion between myself and the bartender that served Andrea and I on Sunday night:

ME: I've been very pleasently surprised by Arkansas since we got here. It's nothing like I though it would be.
Shelly the Bartender: How so?
M: Well, when I was in Boston, and I told people I came from Minnesota, they assumed that I lived on a farm...even though...well, I did not. So when I tell people that I'm going to Arkansas, they assume...
STB: I know where you're going with that. People got Arkansas all wrong! I'm educated. I DO wear shoes. I have never fu***d my brother AND I have all of my teeth. As for toothless people around here, it's not because we have too much lead in the water. People just need to put the pipe down!

I can't argue with the lady that was throwing free drinks our way all night. It wouldn't be fair. It should be noted that the above exchange could not be made with an inhabitant of Jessieville, Arkansas...but the pictures are not online yet and that story deserves a picture montage to boot. We'll just tease that story with Andrea's favorite word this week: Delapitated.
This is where, sadly, I must sign off. We were just getting to the good stuff too: excessive nudity, chicken sandwiches, the rural superpower that is Wal-Mart, and Central Arkansas' version of the Dharma Initiative. It will all be touched on in the next posting (when I'm back in Minneapolis) later this week. Stay tuned.

The First Post

When I decided to get back to my writing for sanity purposes I tried to think how I'd go about it. Was I going to continue using The Reach Blog? I decided against it. Decided to go for a new start.
Some of my favorite features from the previously mentioned site will still be here, including the periodic music video clip.

The title comes from a conversation my buddy Thompson and I had while we were working together a few months back. Since my nickname for about as long as I can remember has been Reach, he thought it would be great if he and I wrote a sitcom titled "Pardon My Reach". A slight rip off from the short lived (and yet highly amusing) Comedy Central show "That's My Bush". All the episodes would revolve around my character doing something offensive or stupid and would end with Thompson's character telling the offended party, "Please...pardon my Reach". Freeze frame. Audience applauses. Roll credits. Emmys hand over fist.

Well, said TV show never came to be because we live in Minnesota and don't have the motivation to go to LA, pitch the idea and get rejected. So here we are.

So we kick things off on St. Patrick's Day. Sadly, I do not come to you with crazy stories of my misadventures in St. Paul today...no, unfortunately. That would probably provide each of you with more interesting fodder than the actual goingson in my life today.

This may also be a good thing as I will be giving my brain, liver, and stomach a run for it's money this weekend as we are about to start the greatest time of the year...March Madness. Look, you don't have to love basketball to get into this weekend (although it DOES help). Think of it, if you're a non sports fan, as an excuse to get together with your friends at 11am on a Thursday and drink beer, grill meat, mow down Utz Cheez-Balls and get belligerant until your heart's content (or until you keil over during the west coast night games)...sleep, repeat on Friday.

What makes this year more anticipated than years past? The possibility of seeing my Golden Gophers play two highly touted programs in Texas and Duke during the same weekend? Maybe. The plan to get in the Metrodome for the opening round games on Friday without having to purchace a ticket? Possibly. What makes this so highly anticipated is the project that is going to be undertaken by one Jon "Pete" Petersen and I. 32 hours of televised basketball between Thursday and Sunday--and (unless we end up at the Dome on Friday) we plan on watching every hour of it.

Now, I should mention that this past weekend I proposed to my girlfriend of three years, Andrea. She said yes...this was (in my mind) the only acceptable step to take before taking on 32 hours of college basketball on week later. We're talking committment here. A diamond ring. A diamond ring that says, "I love you, I'll spend the rest of my life with you...just give me these 32 hours".

Anyhow, back to the engagment. For those of you who have gone through the process, you'll know what I'm talking about...you'll understand. For the rest of you? I could try and explain that it is the most surreal out-of-body experience. Truth be told, I don't remember much of what was said...I should have a vague idea, because...well, I WAS there. Well, she did say yes (I remember that much). So that's good.