Mike Gruss Archive
I wasn't always like this.
For a time, I was a decent speller. Best in my eighth-grade class. I still remember the losing word in the schoolwide spelling bee: innermost. (I spelled it intermost.) So stupid.
IT's been about three months since the last Best. Proposal. Ever.
In another three, it'll be time for the next Best. Proposal. Ever. Or Sweetest Proposal Ever. Or most surprising proposal ever.
But for now, we have the 10 million-plus views for Isaac's Live Lip Dub, the current titleholder for the marriage proposal with a superlative.
ON their way to lunch, on their way back from meetings, on their way in and out of the office, the members of the dress-shirt-and-khaki crowd slowed down and stared.
That kind of gawking doesn't happen much in Norfolk. People don't stop because generally there is not much to see and, if there is, it's an ostentatious yacht in the Elizabeth River.
But the preening is standard at The Plot.
This was your unofficial start to summer, people.
Al Doumar, pants up over his waist, neck craning for the microphone, stood beneath a sign crafted from the sharpest, hippest-looking neon that read, "Virginia Is For Lovers."
"I come from the royal family of ice cream," he started.
Last week, Gov. Bob McDonnell and the Department of Transportation unveiled a series of electronic signs to help motorists find the quickest route to the Oceanfront. But I reworked these signs to provide a more accurate measure on how far visitors are from Virginia Beach fun.
A friend who once lived in Norfolk was coming through the area earlier this month, daydreaming of the one munchie he would exit the interstate for, the one item he had yet to find in other parts of the country and was now craving: a Chesapeake burger. His friend was behind the wheel and kept driving. The desire deepened.
The White House wants to talk about summer jobs, so let's talk about summer jobs.
James Fletcher wants to hear from you.
He wants you to call and tell him what to do with some prime North Carolina real estate.
When I asked him if I should print his phone number, he said yes, of course. He encouraged me to publish it. So here, call him: 252-473-3287. (But, please, show a bit of courtesy and phone at a respectable hour.)
Having set out to sea like a modern-day Vasco da Gama, I sat there in my kayak in the Atlantic Ocean, off the Outer Banks, paddle in my lap, letting the sun burn my problems away. Earlier that morning, from the porch, someone may have spotted dolphins in the water. If you're the type to personify animals, perhaps they were even frolicking.
Tommy Erwin bought the guns at a flea market in Pensacola, Fla., six years ago.
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