I’d say I pull of wearing my Converse Chuck Taylor’s with any attire. I’ve worn them for work and play, with casual clothes and in suits. They are my go-to shoes for whatever I am doing. However I recall one time in my life when my Converse shoes just didn’t work with what I was wearing.
When I was stationed at Kings Bay, Georgia I had my own dorm room but I had to share the bathroom with my neighbor, it’s called having a suitemate. You just had to remember your key when you went to the bathroom because the door to the room locked when it was closed.
I never walked into the bathroom barefoot, the thought was just disgusting to me. When I had to shower I wore a pair of bathroom sandals I had, but when I was just using the bathroom I would just throw on whatever pair of shoes I had close to the door.
One day when I got off work, I changed into my usual evening apparel, no shirt and just my boxers. June’s a hot month in Georgia; I did whatever I could to keep cool. When nature called I grabbed my phone, because it’s boring in the bathroom, and threw on my pair of Chuck’s sitting by the door.
After I finished my business in the bathroom and reached for my key, I realized I had forgotten the essential tool for opening my door. Wearing only my boxers and a red pair of Converse shoes I realized I was in trouble.
I sent a mass text to a few of my friends letting them know I needed help. All I got back was “working midnight tonight, sorry.” Great I thought.
I had one other person I could call, my corporal, who happened to be my direct marine supervisor in the office I worked in.
I stared at his number in my phone for a good minute before I made the call. I had only been working in marine training office for a little over a week and didn’t want them to think this would be a regular occurrence. Still, I was in trouble and I knew marines had to help marines… I just hoped that rule carried over to a sailor working for the marines.
He answered his phone on the second ring, what an obedient marine. “Hey, what’s up” he said. “Heeyy” I said back, I wasn’t sure if I should make small talk before I asked him if he could get me someone to open my door for me. “I need a little help if you don’t mind” I said, “I’m stuck in my bathroom naked and without my room key.”
“Hahahahahaha” was all I heard back, “what do you want me to do?” he said. I asked if he could get a copy of me key but he told me only I would be able to do that with an I.D. So he said he’d bring me some clothes I could wear and head over to the building that managed the dorms.
When I heard him knock on my door I quickly opened it only to be greeted with a flash from a camera phone and laughter.
The next day at work my mishap was the talk of the office and became the running joke of the training department. When I look back on it, the whole thing was funny and a story I frequently tell. I always say I’m just glad I decided to keep my boxers on that day.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Pooping Rainbows in my Chucks
“Everything works out in the end.” I have lived the most recent part of my life by this statement. In the past I had been a very stress-filled person. I worried about the little things and tried to change the past. I learned that worrying about the stuff I had no control of only made me feel strained. So I began living life by doing what I could to make situations better and letting go of the parts of life I had no control over.
A few of my friends and I took a trip to Chicago this past winter. It was a couple’s date. Juan and Jordan, Steff and Ryne and Emmagizer and I, went to the Shedd Aquarium. We stood in line outside in the cold for almost an hour before we made it though the doors of the aquatic museum. After purchasing our tickets the three couples explored the grounds of the Shedd.
We were having a hoot as we walked around the aquarium. We were like children on a fieldtrip as the six of us learned about fish, turtles, sharks, dolphins, whales, stingrays, and my personal favorite, the otters.
Before the gang left the museum, we visited the gift shop, not to purchase anything but to take ridiculous pictures of the toys, hats and clothing the Shedd Aquarium offers.
As we all left the museum, two of the members of our entourage were worried that they would not make it to the train before it left Chicago. Which would cause the four people who took the train two extra hours to get home.
I was leading the group through the streets of Chicago and I may have made one or two wrong turns in the process. However I remained confident that everything would be okay and the train would be there when the four group members got to the train station.
My optimism was not shared with the rest of the group. Jordan yelled at me to “stop pooping rainbows because everything was not going to be okay.” Emmagizer and Juan agreed that it would all be all right, but as we walked, we hit a dead-end. I had the feeling in my stomach that we were lost but in the distance I saw a police car. The other members of the group were all afraid to approach the car but I said that the officer would know how to get to the train station. I asked the policeman if he could give my friends a ride to the train station and he agreed.
There was only enough room in the squad car for four people so Emmagizer and I walked back to Michigan Ave. The two ladies who were frustrated that they would be late to catch their train suddenly seemed to feel bad that Emmagizer and I were going to walk to the Magnificent Mile alone.
The night ended up quite well. Emmagizer and I had a wonderful dinner at California Pizza Kitchen and when I texted the group to see if they made on the train they said they did, with three minutes to spare. It just goes to show you that it’s sometimes okay to poop rainbows because everything has a way of working itself out.
A few of my friends and I took a trip to Chicago this past winter. It was a couple’s date. Juan and Jordan, Steff and Ryne and Emmagizer and I, went to the Shedd Aquarium. We stood in line outside in the cold for almost an hour before we made it though the doors of the aquatic museum. After purchasing our tickets the three couples explored the grounds of the Shedd.
We were having a hoot as we walked around the aquarium. We were like children on a fieldtrip as the six of us learned about fish, turtles, sharks, dolphins, whales, stingrays, and my personal favorite, the otters.
Before the gang left the museum, we visited the gift shop, not to purchase anything but to take ridiculous pictures of the toys, hats and clothing the Shedd Aquarium offers.
As we all left the museum, two of the members of our entourage were worried that they would not make it to the train before it left Chicago. Which would cause the four people who took the train two extra hours to get home.
I was leading the group through the streets of Chicago and I may have made one or two wrong turns in the process. However I remained confident that everything would be okay and the train would be there when the four group members got to the train station.
My optimism was not shared with the rest of the group. Jordan yelled at me to “stop pooping rainbows because everything was not going to be okay.” Emmagizer and Juan agreed that it would all be all right, but as we walked, we hit a dead-end. I had the feeling in my stomach that we were lost but in the distance I saw a police car. The other members of the group were all afraid to approach the car but I said that the officer would know how to get to the train station. I asked the policeman if he could give my friends a ride to the train station and he agreed.
There was only enough room in the squad car for four people so Emmagizer and I walked back to Michigan Ave. The two ladies who were frustrated that they would be late to catch their train suddenly seemed to feel bad that Emmagizer and I were going to walk to the Magnificent Mile alone.
The night ended up quite well. Emmagizer and I had a wonderful dinner at California Pizza Kitchen and when I texted the group to see if they made on the train they said they did, with three minutes to spare. It just goes to show you that it’s sometimes okay to poop rainbows because everything has a way of working itself out.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Chuck, Let’s Get Kicked Outta Applebee’s
In the movie Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Will Ferrell character Ricky Bobby makes the comment, “let’s go get kicked outta Applebee’s” referencing a previous scene where his family get’s kicked out of an Applebee’s.
In real life, my good friend Phil and I decided to take a trip of our own to Applebee’s. As we walked through the doors of the restaurant in Joliet, I said, “let’s go get kicked outta Applebee’s” not knowing how true this statement would soon be.
Phil and I sat at our table drinking a bucket of Bud Light having a peaceful evening together. Phil began to get a little tipsy and decided to crush a piece of ice in-between two bottle caps. As quickly as the thought “crushing the ice is not a good thing to do” passed through my head: the ice cube shot out of the two bottle caps like a bullet.
From the table behind me I heard a lady, and I use that term loosely, screamed, “Are you f@#king serious?” I turned around out of curiosity to find two heifers, disguised as women, and a man, who must have been the herdsman. Needless to say, it was a rather large table.
The piece of ice landed on one of the cows plates and she looked at Phil and me and said, “do you think this is funny, my meal is ruined.” I quickly apologized and said it was an accident. She mooed back with, “I don’t care, and my meal is ruined!”
Now I’ve been known to instigate situations on occasion. In this instance, I noticed that she had eaten her entire meal with the exception of a few vegetables, go figure. So I said to the angry livestock, “Your meal is only ruined because you ate the whole thing, stop trying to get a free meal.”
At this point the muscular herder stepped between his herd and said, “you know, we came here for a nice meal and you two assholes ruined it.” At this point Phil kept hiding his chuckles behind his napkin and was no use to me in verbally combating these animals. I also couldn’t get passed the idea that although Applebee’s has decent food, it wasn’t as outstanding as the cow farmer was making it seem. So I said to the herdsman, “really? You wanted a nice meal and you came to Applebee’s?”
This wrangler was not appreciating my humor and the cows were getting increasing angrier, I assumed because they hadn’t eaten in roughly ten minutes. At this point the manager of Applebee’s had moseyed over to our two tables to try and calm the situation. Before anything got out of hand Phil and I agreed to move to a different location of the restaurant.
The rest of our evening was uneventful until the cattle driver and his cattle decided to head off into the sunset. As they left the gaucho carried a glass of water, walked up to Phil and as he dumped it on Phil’s lap he said, “take that!” Phil through the cup at the rancho’s back but he kept walking. Good thing too because he couldn’t have beaten us pretty badly. I joked with Phil about how I liked that the farmhand said, “take that” as he left. We joked about how the guy had so much time to come up with a cheeky quote and landed with, “take that.” Honestly saying, “enjoy your bath,” “cool off,” or even “here’s your ice back” would have been so much better.
The whole experience was is a story Phil and I continue to tell. I’m mostly just glad it didn’t end with me getting my ass kicked in my Converse shoes.
In real life, my good friend Phil and I decided to take a trip of our own to Applebee’s. As we walked through the doors of the restaurant in Joliet, I said, “let’s go get kicked outta Applebee’s” not knowing how true this statement would soon be.
Phil and I sat at our table drinking a bucket of Bud Light having a peaceful evening together. Phil began to get a little tipsy and decided to crush a piece of ice in-between two bottle caps. As quickly as the thought “crushing the ice is not a good thing to do” passed through my head: the ice cube shot out of the two bottle caps like a bullet.
From the table behind me I heard a lady, and I use that term loosely, screamed, “Are you f@#king serious?” I turned around out of curiosity to find two heifers, disguised as women, and a man, who must have been the herdsman. Needless to say, it was a rather large table.
The piece of ice landed on one of the cows plates and she looked at Phil and me and said, “do you think this is funny, my meal is ruined.” I quickly apologized and said it was an accident. She mooed back with, “I don’t care, and my meal is ruined!”
Now I’ve been known to instigate situations on occasion. In this instance, I noticed that she had eaten her entire meal with the exception of a few vegetables, go figure. So I said to the angry livestock, “Your meal is only ruined because you ate the whole thing, stop trying to get a free meal.”
At this point the muscular herder stepped between his herd and said, “you know, we came here for a nice meal and you two assholes ruined it.” At this point Phil kept hiding his chuckles behind his napkin and was no use to me in verbally combating these animals. I also couldn’t get passed the idea that although Applebee’s has decent food, it wasn’t as outstanding as the cow farmer was making it seem. So I said to the herdsman, “really? You wanted a nice meal and you came to Applebee’s?”
This wrangler was not appreciating my humor and the cows were getting increasing angrier, I assumed because they hadn’t eaten in roughly ten minutes. At this point the manager of Applebee’s had moseyed over to our two tables to try and calm the situation. Before anything got out of hand Phil and I agreed to move to a different location of the restaurant.
The rest of our evening was uneventful until the cattle driver and his cattle decided to head off into the sunset. As they left the gaucho carried a glass of water, walked up to Phil and as he dumped it on Phil’s lap he said, “take that!” Phil through the cup at the rancho’s back but he kept walking. Good thing too because he couldn’t have beaten us pretty badly. I joked with Phil about how I liked that the farmhand said, “take that” as he left. We joked about how the guy had so much time to come up with a cheeky quote and landed with, “take that.” Honestly saying, “enjoy your bath,” “cool off,” or even “here’s your ice back” would have been so much better.
The whole experience was is a story Phil and I continue to tell. I’m mostly just glad it didn’t end with me getting my ass kicked in my Converse shoes.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Chuck Heaven
I know that most of the stories I write on this blog involve past experiences. I’m not saying that this entry is not a past incident but it doest involve the very recent past. In fact, it happened last weekend on a drip to DeKalb.
This past weekend I drove to Northern Illinois University to visit my girlfriend. After sitting at her house for a few hours, my girlfriend Emmagizer and I decided to take a trip to the mall. After a few twists and wrong turns we made it to the Outlet mall located a few miles from NIU.
Shopping for me is about as fun as watching a golf tournament, however this trip had something a little more exciting. It’s not just that we bought Mrs. Fields cookies and of course they hit they spot. This trip involves something even more special. To my complete surprise as we walked along the sidewalk of the outdoor mall; we came across a Converse Store.
Never in my life had I ever seen a tangible store dedicated to the Converse brand. I felt like higher than Charlie Sheen, as if I too had tiger blood. I walked through the isles of the store taking in all products of the wonderful store. Chuck Taylor shoes were everywhere. There were more styles of Chucks then I ever knew. Some with leather, suede, high-tops, low tops, and everything you could ever imagine.
I could hardly contain myself. I saw a pair of Chucks that had an amazing argyle design. I felt like they made that argyle pattern just for me. Who else could rock a pair of argyle shoes better than me? Of course, I didn’t have any money and could only window-shop. I felt like I left my child on someone’s doorstep as I left. I wanted to leave a note on the shoes the read, “I can’t afford these shoes right now. But please take good care of them. Tell them one day I will return.” It was sad and I still think of those wonderful shoes sitting on the shelf of the store.
One day I hope to return there and buy those argyle patterned Chucks. However until that day comes I will keep dreaming of my shoes that could be.
This past weekend I drove to Northern Illinois University to visit my girlfriend. After sitting at her house for a few hours, my girlfriend Emmagizer and I decided to take a trip to the mall. After a few twists and wrong turns we made it to the Outlet mall located a few miles from NIU.
Shopping for me is about as fun as watching a golf tournament, however this trip had something a little more exciting. It’s not just that we bought Mrs. Fields cookies and of course they hit they spot. This trip involves something even more special. To my complete surprise as we walked along the sidewalk of the outdoor mall; we came across a Converse Store.
Never in my life had I ever seen a tangible store dedicated to the Converse brand. I felt like higher than Charlie Sheen, as if I too had tiger blood. I walked through the isles of the store taking in all products of the wonderful store. Chuck Taylor shoes were everywhere. There were more styles of Chucks then I ever knew. Some with leather, suede, high-tops, low tops, and everything you could ever imagine.
I could hardly contain myself. I saw a pair of Chucks that had an amazing argyle design. I felt like they made that argyle pattern just for me. Who else could rock a pair of argyle shoes better than me? Of course, I didn’t have any money and could only window-shop. I felt like I left my child on someone’s doorstep as I left. I wanted to leave a note on the shoes the read, “I can’t afford these shoes right now. But please take good care of them. Tell them one day I will return.” It was sad and I still think of those wonderful shoes sitting on the shelf of the store.
One day I hope to return there and buy those argyle patterned Chucks. However until that day comes I will keep dreaming of my shoes that could be.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
K-9 Converse
Not every occasion with my Converse shoes involves feces or the police. There are times when I do great things for other people. This tale does not involve feces or the police. It also does not involve great things for other people.
Before I left for the Navy I wanted to get in shape. I decided that running would be the best way to achieve this. On those sunny summer afternoons I would go for a jog in my Chuck Taylors. Usually running one to two miles although on occasion I would run up to five miles. I felt energetic when I ran and could feel my body get healthier. I knew that when I got to boot camp I could easily run the mile in less than ten minutes, the standard time for a sailor.
From time to time my feet would get bloody from running in the rubber-soled shoes. It became apparent to me that Chuck’s were not the best track shoes. However I felt stylish in my blue converse’s as I ran the streets of Shorewood.
I kept myself at a steady jog; I was never one to over exert myself. I wasn’t looking to run a marathon, just keep my figure.
One particular day on my jog I ran past a familiar house. Normally the man who lived in the house was outside doing yard work. This day the garage was open but no one was there. As I ran past I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a German Shepherd that came up to my hip chasing behind me.
I looked forward scream and forced my body into a dead sprint. I ran past three houses before I saw a trunk parked under a tree on the side of the road. I ran onto the bed of the truck in one quick motion and jumped onto a limb from the tree. The German Shepherd barked from below me.
Finally the owner of the dog came running over. He angrily said, “what’s wrong with you? You never run from a dog.” As if I was supposed to stand there as this giant beat charged at me. In a stressful situation the body says, “we can stand our ground or we can get the Hell outta here.” I went with the flight part of the biological response.
I collected myself and walked the rest of the way home. Periodically checking my rear for anything that may attack. Now every time I drive past that house I think of the dog. Just like when I pass the tree I picture my hanging upside down like a scared squirrel.
Before I left for the Navy I wanted to get in shape. I decided that running would be the best way to achieve this. On those sunny summer afternoons I would go for a jog in my Chuck Taylors. Usually running one to two miles although on occasion I would run up to five miles. I felt energetic when I ran and could feel my body get healthier. I knew that when I got to boot camp I could easily run the mile in less than ten minutes, the standard time for a sailor.
From time to time my feet would get bloody from running in the rubber-soled shoes. It became apparent to me that Chuck’s were not the best track shoes. However I felt stylish in my blue converse’s as I ran the streets of Shorewood.
I kept myself at a steady jog; I was never one to over exert myself. I wasn’t looking to run a marathon, just keep my figure.
One particular day on my jog I ran past a familiar house. Normally the man who lived in the house was outside doing yard work. This day the garage was open but no one was there. As I ran past I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a German Shepherd that came up to my hip chasing behind me.
I looked forward scream and forced my body into a dead sprint. I ran past three houses before I saw a trunk parked under a tree on the side of the road. I ran onto the bed of the truck in one quick motion and jumped onto a limb from the tree. The German Shepherd barked from below me.
Finally the owner of the dog came running over. He angrily said, “what’s wrong with you? You never run from a dog.” As if I was supposed to stand there as this giant beat charged at me. In a stressful situation the body says, “we can stand our ground or we can get the Hell outta here.” I went with the flight part of the biological response.
I collected myself and walked the rest of the way home. Periodically checking my rear for anything that may attack. Now every time I drive past that house I think of the dog. Just like when I pass the tree I picture my hanging upside down like a scared squirrel.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sobriety Chucks
There is never a more perfect time to encounter Shorewood’s finest wearing low top Converse shoes than when you are completely sober. If the meeting with the police ends in a humorous story and no citations, than it’s even better.
My best friend Phil aged to 22 three years ago. For his birthday I was in Missouri visiting my sister when a blizzard came across the small southern county. I called Phil and told him that I wasn’t going to make it to his birthday because of all the snow. What Phil didn’t know was that I was only joking about not making the party and that I was already home when the blizzard hit.
I knew that Phil was going bowling because many of our friends were not 21 years old yet. I also had an accomplice who was keeping me updated on the status of the partiers. After about an hour of bowling and drinking I showed up to see my buddy Phil, who was shocked when I walked in the bowling alley… and a little more than drunk.
Phil gave me a drunken man’s hug and stumbled back over to his lane. After a few more hours of drinking, Phil decided it was time to go home. During the ride Phil filled me in on his night before I made it to the bowling alley. I heard about all the beer and shots people were buying him and how he hit a pillar in the bowling alley after the bowling ball skipped across three lanes during his turn. Needless to say, my good friend was pretty hammered.
I got Phil home just after midnight, but I thought that was too soon to call it quits. His mom had two bottles of wine sitting on the kitchen counter and I convinced him to continue to drink. We each had a glass, followed by Phil polishing off the rest of the bottle.
Through his drunken slurs, Phil said he wanted to visit his girlfriend for a ...um, late night rendezvous. I agreed that if he called her and she answered I’d take him to her house. Sure enough, she answered. Since it was his birthday and I am a good friend, I told him to call me when he was ready to be picked up.
I went home and fell asleep for about an hour when I got a call from Phil, ready to be picked up. When I got to the girls house I saw Phil standing behind a bush peeing on his girlfriend’s house. He waved at me like an idiot and stumbled into the car. I noticed in his hand was an empty bottle of wine and asked if he and his girlfriend drank the whole bottle. He said, “nope” at first I felt relieved but then he said, “I drank it all.” The only thing I could think was, “oh dear!”
Just as we made it out of the subdivision and onto the country roads of Shorewood and Minooka, Phil needed me to pull over. It seemed he was experiencing flu-like symptoms. He felt dizzy, had a headache and of course, he had to puke.
I quickly pulled the car over and let him do his thing. Occasionally asking if he was okay and he’d respond with a thumbs up. After a few minutes of puking and Phil chucking the empty bottle of wine he said he was good to go. But just as he was reaching for the car door he began puking again. At this point I noticed a car had pulled up behind us and stopped.
Nervous that this vehicle was a cop I told Phil to get in my car. He said, “It’s not a cop” and began shouting at the car to “go around.” Phil continued shouting, “go around, go around” and motioning with his hands for the car to go around my car when suddenly in my rearview mirror I see blue and red flashing lights. Phil looked at me from the other side of my car door and said, “Oh shit, I think it’s a cop.”
The cop approached my car and asked if everything was all right. I told him I was just driving drunky home. The officer asked for our driver’s licenses. I handed him mine from out of my pocket. Phil however had a little more trouble. Rather than opening the car door he decided to dive through the passenger window to hand over his license. Of course this ended in him dropping it on the car floor. Which in turn made him fall through the window onto his face, before he successfully handed off his Illinois license to one of Shorewood’s finest.
As we waited for the cop to decide our fate, I couldn’t help but look at my friend and laugh. I wondered how we always managed to end in crazy situations. The cop finally came back and even though Phil tried to get into a jurisdiction battle with the officer. The policeman decided to let us go as long as I took Phil straight home.
As I drove away I was happy that we didn’t get any tickets, that Phil was going home safe and that I didn’t mess up my summer Converse shoes.
My best friend Phil aged to 22 three years ago. For his birthday I was in Missouri visiting my sister when a blizzard came across the small southern county. I called Phil and told him that I wasn’t going to make it to his birthday because of all the snow. What Phil didn’t know was that I was only joking about not making the party and that I was already home when the blizzard hit.
I knew that Phil was going bowling because many of our friends were not 21 years old yet. I also had an accomplice who was keeping me updated on the status of the partiers. After about an hour of bowling and drinking I showed up to see my buddy Phil, who was shocked when I walked in the bowling alley… and a little more than drunk.
Phil gave me a drunken man’s hug and stumbled back over to his lane. After a few more hours of drinking, Phil decided it was time to go home. During the ride Phil filled me in on his night before I made it to the bowling alley. I heard about all the beer and shots people were buying him and how he hit a pillar in the bowling alley after the bowling ball skipped across three lanes during his turn. Needless to say, my good friend was pretty hammered.
I got Phil home just after midnight, but I thought that was too soon to call it quits. His mom had two bottles of wine sitting on the kitchen counter and I convinced him to continue to drink. We each had a glass, followed by Phil polishing off the rest of the bottle.
Through his drunken slurs, Phil said he wanted to visit his girlfriend for a ...um, late night rendezvous. I agreed that if he called her and she answered I’d take him to her house. Sure enough, she answered. Since it was his birthday and I am a good friend, I told him to call me when he was ready to be picked up.
I went home and fell asleep for about an hour when I got a call from Phil, ready to be picked up. When I got to the girls house I saw Phil standing behind a bush peeing on his girlfriend’s house. He waved at me like an idiot and stumbled into the car. I noticed in his hand was an empty bottle of wine and asked if he and his girlfriend drank the whole bottle. He said, “nope” at first I felt relieved but then he said, “I drank it all.” The only thing I could think was, “oh dear!”
Just as we made it out of the subdivision and onto the country roads of Shorewood and Minooka, Phil needed me to pull over. It seemed he was experiencing flu-like symptoms. He felt dizzy, had a headache and of course, he had to puke.
I quickly pulled the car over and let him do his thing. Occasionally asking if he was okay and he’d respond with a thumbs up. After a few minutes of puking and Phil chucking the empty bottle of wine he said he was good to go. But just as he was reaching for the car door he began puking again. At this point I noticed a car had pulled up behind us and stopped.
Nervous that this vehicle was a cop I told Phil to get in my car. He said, “It’s not a cop” and began shouting at the car to “go around.” Phil continued shouting, “go around, go around” and motioning with his hands for the car to go around my car when suddenly in my rearview mirror I see blue and red flashing lights. Phil looked at me from the other side of my car door and said, “Oh shit, I think it’s a cop.”
The cop approached my car and asked if everything was all right. I told him I was just driving drunky home. The officer asked for our driver’s licenses. I handed him mine from out of my pocket. Phil however had a little more trouble. Rather than opening the car door he decided to dive through the passenger window to hand over his license. Of course this ended in him dropping it on the car floor. Which in turn made him fall through the window onto his face, before he successfully handed off his Illinois license to one of Shorewood’s finest.
As we waited for the cop to decide our fate, I couldn’t help but look at my friend and laugh. I wondered how we always managed to end in crazy situations. The cop finally came back and even though Phil tried to get into a jurisdiction battle with the officer. The policeman decided to let us go as long as I took Phil straight home.
As I drove away I was happy that we didn’t get any tickets, that Phil was going home safe and that I didn’t mess up my summer Converse shoes.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Baby Chuck's
A fresh pair of Converse shoes can throw off my whole month; one of my worst experiences was babysitting my nephew when I was twenty. There is something about a young twenty-year-old who sleeps till noon and can barely manage feeding and cleaning himself. This young twenty-year-old does not scream, “world’s greatest babysitter.”
I of course had to wake up at the crack of dawn to babysit my nephew so my older sister could go to work. Apparently children are people too. Despite the fact that I rarely count them when claiming the amount of family members I have. I just figure the mom and baby are one, until the kid is at least able to carry a conversation with me. In any event, my nephew did show human emotions.
He cried when I changed the channel from the hypnotizing Baby Einstein DVD. Honestly I felt like I was doing him a favor turning off the movie. If you haven’t seen this crap, consider yourself lucky. The DVD is like something a cult would play before a meeting to wipe your mind clean of thought. It is complete randomness with colors and creepy puppets. I found myself losing about an hour of my life without even knowing it. It was as if I was stuck in a trance. The worst thing is that you have the option to play the DVD on repeat. So you could hypothetically get stuck on the couch all day staring at the TV screen.
When I babysit I lounge on the couch and keep the kid alive. As long as he is breathing, the day is a success. I would probably even let him cry if the sound wasn’t so annoying. Eventually the child will get so tired of crying the kid would just pass out. Have you ever heard the ear-piercing scream of a child? For Christ’s sake, if you take away his or her pacifier, you’d think someone stabbed Janet Leigh while she was showering.
Sometimes though the kid will just cry. I feel like they cry because they hate me. It’s the child’s way of giving the middle finger. “Hey Mike, F@*K YOU” for not entertaining me more than putting on this crappy DVD. “Hey Mike, F@*K YOU” for not letting me out of this highchair. “Hey Mike, F@*K YOU” for feeding me this crappy vegetable diarrhea looking mush. Then there is my favorite, “Hey Mike, F@*K YOU” now change my diaper.
The smell of a baby’s fecal matter smells like death. I occasionally watch the documentaries of WWII when there’s an interview with a war veteran. The former sergeant is describing the horrible smell of bodies laying on the beach and he say’s, “I cannot describe the awful smell, you wouldn’t know unless you’re there” all I can think is, “Oh sergeant, I feel your pain.”
The smell of poo vapors flying off my nephew crushed my soul. I couldn’t come within ten feet of him without the overwhelming feeling of nausea. I would dry heave as I tried entering the room where he was balling his eyes out. I think he could smell himself too. I had to do something, more for my health than for his. I held my breath and ran into the room I would soon have to fumigate.
I grabbed my nephew and threw him in the back seat of my car. It was October and a little chilly but I needed to role down my windows or the smell would overwhelm me. I took the little poo factory to the only place I could think, my mom’s work. I frantically tried to call my mother as I speedily drove through Joliet. She never answered so when I get to her office I parked in a handicap spot, held my nephew as far away from my body, like he was a bomb about to explode, and ran into the building.
I knew the receptionist at the desk and she recognized me right away. Hastily I spewed my words at her, “I need my mom right now,” she ran like someone was about to die. Quite frankly, I thought the smell would steal my life soon. When my mom walked over she saw me holding my nephew like an un-athletic girl holds a football and started to laugh. I had to remind her that it was not funny and I needed help.
She took the little guy off my hands and I sat down in a chair because I needed some serious rest. I looked at my shoes and for once, I was happy that they were clean. If for some reason they had smelly baby poop on them there was a good chance I would be scared for life.
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