The Ten Commandments of Theater Attendance

This is from another blog where my alter-ego is the Dirty Movie Critic!.

I work in the movie business. I am a Theater Usher.

Contrary to popular opinion, a theater usher is not there to find you, and your party of fourteen, seats together; nor are we there to open the door for you because your arms are filled with a large tub of popcorn, a 64 oz soda, and a bag of Twizzlers. Our responsibilities are far more important. Our primary job is to clean up after pigs disguised as movie-goers.

The purpose of this blog is to provide you with an insight into show business you won't find elsewhere: the dark and dirty secrets of how the movie industry seduces you into spending your hard earned money on filthy entertainment. At the same time, I will rate new releases, not on the quality of acting or cinematography - but on how dirty the theater is when you leave it.

DISCLAIMER: Neither the management of the theater at which I am employed, nor it's parent corporation, the studios, vendors, nor fellow employees are aware of, agree with, or condone in any way the views and opinions expressed within. In order to protect my job, I will not share my real name nor the theater name or location, other than to say that we are located in or near the cities of Raleigh, Durham and Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Any comparisons to peoples living elsewhere are not intended, nor should they be construed as to say that people from your area are better or worse than those who view movies at the theater I work at.

FURTHER DISCLAIMER: Since we live in a world where people are easily offended, I feel it necessary to add that my views and opinions are based on personal experience spanning more than 50 years of being both a consumer and an employee in the movie business. If I say anything to offend you, get over it. I'm only earning $6.50 an hour and I can't seem to get more than 20 hours of work any given week. If I had money, I wouldn't be cleaning up after you pigs.

Anyway, before I begin to rate the current releases, let me take this time to share the 10 Commandments of Theater Attendance. Ever since Charleton Heston smashed the tablets containing the 10 commandments after finding his people worshipping a golden image of the Chic-fil-a mascot, theater employees have been demanding from God a set of laws concerning how theater-goers are to conduct themselves while in our places of employment.


1.Thou Shalt Take Your Trash With You When You Exit The Auditorium. Rule #1 is that whatever you bring into the theater with you needs to go with you when you leave. We provide you with at least one trash container, usually found near the door where you entered the auditorium. In some occasions, ushers will provide a mobile trash container at the foot of the steps. Use them. Just because you paid $9-12 for a ticket doesn't give you the right to expect bus service. If you're going to leave a mess, at least leave a tip - $1.00 minimum per cup holder. If you drop personal belongings - don't expect to recover any cash. We'll give you back the cell phones, umbrellas and jewelry, but any cash found is considered a tip even though it won't be reported as such to the IRS. (Actually the janitorial service that cleans the theaters after hours finds most of your money, so don't blame the ushers!)

2.Thou Shalt Not Complain About How Long the Box Office and Concession Lines Are. Here's an original thought - come early. You have to come two hours early to catch an airplane, what's wrong with arriving 20 minutes before your show starts. Another thing - relax. There are usually 12-13 minutes of paid commercials and pre-views before the movie you paid to see starts. Stop your bitching.

3.Thou Shalt Not Bring Contraband Into the Theater. You cheap pig! Sure our concessions are over-priced, but that's because the theater has to hire us to clean up after you. Don't bring your microwave popcorn, canned sodas, dinner leftovers, beer cans, vodka bottles, and chicken bones into our theater. And if you do manage to sneak it past us, at least have respect for us ushers to take the trash with you and drop them in the containers the theater provides for paying customers.

4.Thou Shalt Not Leave Your Spit Cups For Ushers to Clean Up. This commandment is like unto the previous: If you consume tobacco products between your cheek and gums, don't use our cups to spit in and then leave your filthy, stinking expectorant for us to have to touch. How do women kiss guys who use smokeless tobacco? It stinks, it's disgusting, and it's toxic. If you're addicted to that fecal matter, wait until you leave to use it. I hope you swallow and choke on that shit!

5.Thou Shalt Not Complain About Dirty Bathrooms. Who do you think messed them up to begin with? Women are the worst. I think you're afraid to sit where another woman has rested her fat but-tocks, so you squat and your aim sucks. Toilet paper goes in the toilet. If it doesn't flush when your behind stands up - push the little button behind the toilet so the next guest (or poor usher who has to clean the restrooms) doesn't have to look at the present you left them. Guys - stand closer to the urinal. The reason the bathrooms smell so bad is because there's more piss on the floor than down the drain. Besides, ushers are so busy cleaning 16-20 screens that we don't have time to keep the bathroom clean. Go before you come!

6.Thou Shalt Not Talk During the Movie. No one likes those loud obnoxious people who have no inside voice. When you pay $9-12 for a movie ticket, you want to be able to hear what's being played over those 500 watt surround sound speakers. Turn off your cell phones! You are not that important - and if you're needed that badly you shouldn't be wasting time watching a movie. Here's a helpful hint: Ushers look for people using cell phones and if your cell phone is a camera phone, it can be confiscated it theater employees suspect you're taking shots or video of the movie. That's called piracy - which is covered in the seventh commandment.

7.Thou Shalt Not Pirate Movies. Although I support capitalism, stealing movies by videotaping new releases is a felony. When you see an usher walk into the theater during the movie, we're not only there to count the number of patrons and record the count on the sheet by the emergency exit, we're looking for people who are using video cameras, cell phones or other recording devices. If we see you, we won't be the ones approaching you. We call the cops, point you out, and you're out more than the cost of the movie ticket. We're trained to spot pirateers, so don't make us be the bad guy simply because you're a dirtbag.

8.Thou Shalt Not Enter an Auditorium While It Is Being Cleaned. So you're one of the smart few who arrived early; if you enter an auditorium and you see the ushers are still cleaning the theater, go back outside until you see us exit with all the trash left by the previous movie-goers. They're the ones who make you wait for a seat. If they'd taken their trash with them rather than left it in, under, and behind the seats, we'd be done and you could park your butt in the seat of your choice before all the late-comers get there. Above all, don't stand to the side and watch us clean. Grab a damn broom and dustpan and help if you're that anxious to get a seat.

9.Thou Shalt Purchase Only What You Will Consume. Our concessionaires are trained to up-sell concessions; but you don't need to buy the large tub of popcorn just because it's only twenty-five cents more and you get free refills. Very few people get refills, and the majority that do come back for refills are the clumsy jerks who spilled half of the popcorn stumbling up the stairs. Same goes for a large drink - you don't know how many times we find tubs of popcorn and drinks barely touched when we clean up behind the lazy bastards that left them in the seats. Concessions are already over-priced, don't pay for more than you're going to consume. Our managers appreciate the bonus you earned them, but the ushers hate you for it.

10.Thou Shalt Not Watch Every Last Credit Once the Movie Has Ended. Some people sit until every credit has played before getting up and leaving. Meanwhile, the poor ushers are standing to the side, stressing out over the other three movies that let out at the same time this one did and knowing that they've only got 20 minutes to clean four auditoriums before the next feature starts. You don't need to know who catered the Russian location portion during the production of this film or who rewound the tape for the editors. The credits are there for one purpose as far as we ushers are concerned: to give you time to get the hell out so we can clean the theater. Inevitably, one or two will stay and watch all the credits and we'll end up so far behind that the next group of viewers get ticked off because they can't get a seat because the ushers are still cleaning the theater of mountains of waste sold to people who's wallets were bigger than they bellies.

Enjoy the movies - but remember the 10 Commandments of Theater Attendance.

!%*@)^%$& !!!

Researchers at Keele University on the other side of the pond have discovered that cursing helps ease pain. http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/04/18/wtf-study-shows-swearing-reduces-pain/

I can affirm that their research has merit. This morning, T.T. and I went to put gas in his truck. I rode in the back because it's finally Spring here in Granville County. T.T. parked next to the pump and then spent a few minutes patting himself down looking for his wallet. He rummaged around inside the truck, muttering a few curse words, before finding the wallet between the seat cushions.

As T.T. opened the gas tank lid, he jerked his hand back quickly. At first he thought he'd brushed a knuckle against a sharp piece of metal, but as the pain intensified, T.T. bent over to see what had stuck him. Hanging just above the gas cap was a large wasp, partially hanging out of a tiny wasp nest. T.T. jumped back a few feet, afraid the wasp was going to come after him.

It was rather cool this morning, so the wasp was probably too cold to venture out of its nest. T.T. looked at the wasp, then at his gas cap as if wondering if he could unscrew the cap without further agitating the wasp. He quickly decided the hell with that - in fact that's exactly what he said.

T.T. grabbed the windshield squeegee next to the pump and used it to knock the wasp from its perch. I backed to the other end of the truck bed as I don't get along well with wasps either. The wasp fell to the ground and T.T. proceeded to stomp the s....tuffing out of that wasp - cursing the entire time. When there was nothing left that resembled a wasp, T.T. looked at his swollen knuckle and cursed some more.

Apparently, someone who swears a lot builds up immunity to it and it doesn't help the pain as much as someone who swears infrequently. T.T. has a vast vocabulary of swear words, and he hates wasps, so he continued to curse as we drove down I-85 towards Durham. Passing motorists couldn't help but stare at the sight of a lone driver carrying on such an animated conversation with a beagle. They probably thought he was mad at me.

This research also shows that test subjects who use a neutral word - such as 'broccoli' rather than a swear word experience very little pain relief. So the next time you hit your finger with a hammer or stump your toe going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, let it fly. People will understand that it's just pain management.

Have You Heard the 2nd Verse to the National Anthem?

Have You Heard the 2nd Verse to the National Anthem?

Deacon

T.T. has been sad for the past few weeks - ever since Deacon Wilson passed away. Deacon Wilson, or just "Deacon" as he was commonly called by the members of The Carpenter's Shop, was eighty-two years old when he died from a stroke on a Tuesday afternoon in March. The pastor found him lying on the ground next to the shed where the riding lawn mower was stored. Deacon was apparently changing the oil in the mower before the first cutting of the year. Deacon loved Spring more than any other season for it represented new life.

The memorial service was on Friday. Sunday morning the weather was cloudy and misty. The pastor arrived early, as was his custom, to pray and review his sermon notes. He reached behind his seat for his umbrella and made a mental note to ask the greeters to move the umbrella stand just outside the church doors for the congregation to deposit their umbrellas before entering the sanctuary. This made him think of Deacon. Who would take his place escorting some of the older ladies from their cars under his umbrella this morning? Deacon had performed this task for years. When other greeters simply stood at the top of the steps to shake hands and open the church doors for worshipers, Deacon went out in the weather to make sure the older folk had some cover from the wind and rain.

As he exited his car and looked around the church grounds, the pastor noticed the beer cans and paper sacks tossed outside by passing motorists. Deacon had always picked up the trash in front of the church before anyone arrived and complained. He would have to get someone to handle this task as well, though few would want to risk getting their hands and suits dirty. "I'm sure going to miss Deacon." the pastor muttered softly.

The pastor wasn't the only one who noticed things weren't as neat and orderly as they normally were. Someone had brought the bread and grape juice for communion, but couldn't find the trays or the table cloths. The temperature was a bit chilly for the older members. Deacon had always adjusted the temperature so the sanctuary and classrooms were comfortable before people arrived. And despite the smiles and handshakes from the other greeters, it just wasn't the same not seeing Deacon there to hand out bulletins and inquire how one's week had been.

Children too missed Deacon. He'd always kept Life Savers candies in his coat pocket for the little ones. Deacon loved kids and knew every child by name. He even kept a small notebook with their birthdays recorded; and on their birthdays, Deacon would give them a dollar along with a Life Savers candy. Sometimes the parents thought that their kids were impolite or ungrateful when they'd run up to Deacon and shove their hand into his coat pocket for a candy and run off without saying "Thank you." Deacon didn't think that way though - he was honored that they trusted him and were comfortable around him.

It's common practice in most churches that deacons are nominated and approved to serve for a specific periof of time. Although Deacon wasn't a member of the current deacon board, he continued his duties as though he were. Deacon didn't know how not to stay busy, and people were so accustomed to seeing him out front every Sunday that he was considered honorary deacon for life. It's how he got his nickname.

Although his absence was noticed and felt by most, few members of the church really knew Deacon that well. The pastor knew him best; as did T.T. You see, both T.T. and Deacon shared the same personality - funny, but shy. They are wall-flowers at social events. They are always invited, but they tend to stay off at the side and talk to only one or two people they know best. Deacon and T.T. shared the same political and social opinions, even if T.T. was the more vocal of the two. Neither is comfortable letting others do for them; nor were they too comfortable simply sitting in a worship service as an observer. More often than not, T.T. and Deacon would stand outside and talk while the sermon was being delivered.

That's when I was able to attend church too, even if I didn't go inside. T.T. takes me everywhere - that's the deal we have. So it was nothing for me to sit between the two of them as they talked about the incompetence of the government, the sad state of affairs in the White House, and their worry over the world their kids and grandkids would inherit; or they'd talk about some member of the church who needed some sort of help with a harvest or a power bill. Deacon would scratch behind my ears and run his age-spotted hands over my coat. He usually had a biscuit in his other coat pocket for me if he knew I was coming that Sunday.

Deacon only had one suit. He took as good care of it as possible, brushing it every Sunday before putting it on, and occasionally having it dry cleaned when he had the extra money. Deacon never spent much money on himself. His first priority was his kids, whom he never stopped worrying about. As far as Deacon was concerned, if his kids didn't have to make the mistakes he'd made, he would consider himself a good father. I never once heard him ask anyone for anything, but I saw the joy he received in giving what little he had.

Last Sunday, the pastor and the church decided that Deacon deserved more than one memorial service. Members brought food and instruments and the whole day was spent eating, singing and simply being together. Deacon's children, none of whom attended their dad's church, were invited. I think that his family learned something about their dad that they didn't realize when he was alive. To them, he was a loving and gentle, if opinionated man; a good father, if not successful in the things that success is measured today. As person after person got up and shared their stories about Deacon, both family and friends discovered that here was a man whose character and loyalty and wit had touched lives in many small but significant ways. The day was spent in celebration of Deacon's life and in community with one another.

Papa stopped by to see me on Monday. He asked me how T.T. was doing - not that He couldn't know, but because He delights in choosing not to know everything just because He can. Papa loves to share the joy of His children, just as He's willing to experience their sorrow - because He cares about the same things they care about. "If anything matters, everything matters." is something God likes to remind us.

I told Papa that T.T. was still sad about the hole that Deacon's passing had left in his heart; and in mine. Papa gave me a squeeze and assured me that Deacon was just fine. "He's still a wall-flower, even in Heaven, Bubba." Papa explained. "It's as though he's still not convinced that he deserves to be with Me. Jesus explained to Deacon that it was our love for him that made him welcome into our family, but Deacon's still processing all that's been done for him."

Papa went on to say, "Part of Deacon's reticence to let himself go and be free to explore the heavens like he wants to, is that right after he arrived, he ran into a couple of liberals he recognized from television. Deacon never expected to see a liberal in Heaven, so now he has to rethink his old opinions. For Deacon, the distinction between liberals and conservatives is as far apart as East is from West. If one is right, the other has to be wrong. But there they are in the same place, so which one is wrong - or are they both?" "Believe me," Papa said, leaning in closer to me and with a grin said, "they were more surprised than Deacon to find themselves among the distinct minority in Heaven."

"Deacon doesn't realize it yet, but Heaven is far bigger than social thought or about theology or eschatology or other human ideas. It's about discovering My mind and My heart for my creations. Deacon's destiny is to explore new worlds, just as I whispered to him in his mother's womb." I asked Papa about T.T.'s destiny, but He shook his head and told me it's not for me to know. "T.T. walks a similar path to that of Deacon, but every destiny is different as every person is different." I must have looked worried because Papa quickly reassured me that "You'll see them both again, Bubba. Trust me."

I wanted to ask if there's a Bojangles in Heaven, but didn't want to appear too 'worldly' to Papa. If there is, I'm sure that Deacon will have a biscuit for me next time I see him.

The Baptist

Yesterday I was awakened from a siesta by the squeaking of a rusted van door and the sigh of relief of worn shocks as the occupant got out of a rust red 1980 Dodge conversion van. A thick puff of dust rose around a pair of feet, with ankles as thick as fence posts, as a woman stepped from the vehicle. She sported a pink checkered sack dress that hung well below her knees. Her hair was graying blond and piled haphazardly upon her head in the semblance of a bunn. Her face was red from the exertion of getting out of her vehicle, but she put on a big smile as she waddled towards the house, a Bible in one hand.

Bubba BiGot Jr. III was sitting in a rocker on his front porch. He scowled like Clint Eastwood's character in 'Gran Torino', as much in distaste of the butt-ugle van sitting in his driveway as at its driver. Bubba, or T.T. as I like to call him, is a Ford man. Undeterred by his stare, the woman approached the bottom step and greeted T.T. "A glorious day to you sir! My name is Faith Newsome and I'm from The First Apostolic Free-Will Baptist Church over in Durham, and I was in the area and wanted to see if I could speak to the young lady that lives here. She visited with us a couple of weeks ago with Sister Ruby Pike and I just wanted to see if she needed a ride to church tomorrow."

T.T. scowled even more at the mention of Ruby Pike, that self-righteous busy-body neighbor who lived a couple of houses down the road. "She's out of town for a couple of weeks visiting her mother." T.T. responded, hoping the woman would turn around and get back into her van and leave.

A look of disappointment replaced Faith's smile. This was the third house she'd visited trying to get people to come with her to church the following day. "I see." she replied. "Well, please tell her I came by and I hope she will come out and visit us when she gets back, from Georgia, isn't it?

"Yep." T.T. said. Obviously his daughter had told Ruby Pike and she'd blabbed it all over the church.

Unwilling to trudge all the way back to her van, the woman decided to strike up a conversation with T.T., hoping he'd at least invite her to get out of the sun and have a seat on the porch. "Sir, before I go, could I ask you a question?" Faith climbed the first step as she spoke.

T.T. sighed. I could hear it from the van where I was busy marking the tires. He knew what was coming. "Sure", he replied.

Faith took another step. "Well, if you were to die today, do you know where you'd spend eternity?"

"Sure do." T.T. said.

After a few seconds it became apparent that T.T. wasn't going to elaborate further, so Faith tried to draw the answer from him. "That's good. So you know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?"

"Yep."

T.T.'s reticence to respond with more than two words was causing Faith to have doubts that T.T. really believed in Christ. She wanted to help him understand what being saved really means. "And you know that we've all sinned and fallen short of the Kingdom of God and that without Jesus' atoning blood spilled on your behalf you are condemned to an eternity in the fiery pits of hell along with Satan and his host of demons....eternally separated from God....with no hope just eternal pain and misery...away from those you love and who now rest in the loving arms of the Creator." Faith paused for breath. "You do know you can't get to Heaven without Jesus, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am. I've gone to church most of my life. I've read the Bible from cover to cover. I know what the Bible says."

Thinking she'd found a flaw in T.T.'s response, Faith took two more steps and stood on the porch only a few feet from T.T. I moved a bit closer in case T.T. needed help fending her off.

"But don't you know, Mr. BiGot, that just going to church and reading the Bible doesn't mean you have a saving relationship with the Lord! You've got to repent from all your sins and obey the Word of God if you want to spend eternity with the Father."

"I 'spose." T.T. replied.

A lock of Faith's hair had worked loose from the clip and now hung over her eyes. She was starting to look more and more like Carrie's mother from that Stephen King movie.

"Not every church teaches the entire gospel, Mr. BiGot. You've got to be in a Bible-believing, Spirit-filled church if you want to get to know God."

"I attend The Carpenter's Shop over in Creedmoor."

Faith had never heard of the church. "That's good, but you need to hear the gospel from a preacher that knows the Word like our pastor. Pastor Woody Carver has been preaching at First Apostolic Free Will since 1992. He's a powerful man of God who ain't afraid to call sin sin. He don't stand by like other pastors and accept sin in his church. You won't find any homosexuals or harlots there. If you don't pay your tithes, he'll call you out in public because not paying your tithes isn't a financial issue, it's a faith issue and it needs to be dealt with. You need to have folks around you who will help hold your feet to the fire when you start back-sliding. That's the kind of Christians you'll find at First Apostolic Free Will Baptist Church."

T.T. had heard just about enough by now,so he decided to have some fun with Ms. Faith. "I used to be a Baptist, but then I got saved." he replied.

Stunned, Faith just stood with her mouth hanging open. No he didn't! This insolent heathen wasn't insinuating that FAFWBC was not doing the Lord's work? I moved closer in case she was was going to draw a butcher knife from inside that tent she wore.

"Well," she huffed. "All I know is what the Word says, and my Bible says that "A good man obtaineth favour of the LORD: but a man of wicked devices will he condemn." And in the gospel of John that "He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil."

"And in my Bible it says "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour widows' houses, and for a pretence make long prayer: therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation."

The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes throwing scripture verses at one another. Faith concluded with "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life." That's found in John 5:24 if you don't have time to look it up.

T.T. shot back, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, get thou fat ass off my porch and move that piece of crap van out of my yard before I buy up that church building of yours and shove it where the sun don't shine!"

Faith stomped off the porch, hurling back unpleasantries. T.T. smiled and said things like, "Go in pieces."
"Be blessless."
"Fast and pray sister, with emphasis on the fasting!"
It took awhile for the dust to settle from her stomping before she could see well enough to back out of the drive.

After she was gone, I told T.T. that he didn't act very Christian-like to Faith. "I know", he admitted. "But I'm sick of in-your-business-Christians who think they've got the inside track to God. The next time someone says "Well, all I know is the Word, and the Word says blah-blah-blah." I'm going to make them eat it."

I'm going to ask God to go easy on T.T. the next time I see Him. T.T.'s bark is worse than his bite. He's like the President, he don't know when to keep his mouth shut.

Failure To Communicate - Part 2

Missus and T.T. were shopping today in Wal-Mart and T.T. was again the victim of an assault by his wife. I must point out that T.T. wasn't raised to lay his hand on a woman, so he was at a disadvantage here.

Missus needed some new underwear before leaving on their trip to Nebraska. The two were in the lingerie aisle. Missus prefers the Hanes brand. T.T. saw some bras that appealed to him and called them to the attention of Missus. She came over and looked at them, shook her head and said, "Pretty balloons." T.T. agreed "Yep." and reached out to give the padded bras a squeeze.

Missus looked at him like he was some sort of pervert and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"That's why I'm ashamed to go anywhere with you!" she hissed.

"What did I do?" T.T. asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Missus explained. "Just a fat middle-aged man in the women's lingerie department feeling up the merchandise."

"What are you getting so upset about?" T.T. insisted. "I was just agreeing with you."

"In what way?" Missus inquired.

"Well, you said those were pretty balloons and I thought they were pretty and just felt them to see what made them so pert and full."

"Uh-huh." said Missus.

"And I just wanted to see if they were as firm as your breasts are." As T.T. said this, he reached out and gave Missus' breasts a squeeze, just as the clerk walked over and asked if she could help them.

Missus blushed, but T.T. grinned, shook his head and responded, "No, I can take care of these myself."

It was then that Missus opened up a can of whoop-ass on T.T. They were escorted from the store and asked never to return.


It turned out that Missus didn't say 'pretty balloons". She said "Fruit of the Loom".

Numb Nuts

This week's continuing saga in the life of Bubba BiGot Jr III (or T.T.) ties in with the previous two posts - miscommunication and rear ends.

I'm in my customary pew outside the bar where T.T.'s church meets. The metal table legs are beginning to rust from my frequent bathroom breaks, so I'm considering donating another table to take its place. Maybe I'll follow the lead of Baptists and have a dedication plaque attached to it so visitors and customers will know of my good deed. Maybe God will stop by for a drink and sit at the table, notice my name, and reward me for my generosity....but I don't think so.

Anyway, this past Sunday a visiting missionary couple came to talk to us about the work they're doing in Guatemala. They brought a beautiful little girl with them and she and I had a good time coloring while her dad talked about the needs of people in La Limonada, outside Guatemala City. (Click the link above for more information.)

T.T. sat in the center of the room, slouched down so the people behind him could see the speaker. I watched him squirm and wiggle, trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair. By the time the service was nearing an end, T.T. was pretty miserable. So he stood up and walked to the front of the room rather than stand in front of the people sitting behind him. The pastor, observing T.T. standing at the front, assumed he had something to say and offered the floor to T.T.

If you don't know much about T.T., you should know that he says what's on his mind. Sometimes it's quick and witty, and other times his mouth gets ahead of his brain - which was the case this time. When the pastor asked T.T. if he had something he wanted to say, T.T.'s response was supposed to be, "No. My butt's numb from sitting in that chair." What came out however was, "No. My nuts are numb...my butt's numb..uh."

Everybody cracked up. I fell off the table laughing. T.T. blushed, and in characteristic fashion said, "Nuts, butts, what's a couple of inches either way?" More laughs. I'm not sure what the missionaries thought, but as the pastor's wife commented as she wiped tears from her face, "Only you, T.T. Only you."

I suppose T.T. is going to be stuck with a new nickname from now on.