Friday, June 24, 2011

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 3 Issue 24


If you’re ever enjoying a Reds pre or post-game on FOX Sports and hear a childish and immature fan yell those words over the broadcast you’ll know it’s me. I’m not sure exactly when I started heckling Jim Day but I do know it started sometime when I lived in The Nasty a couple years back. This heckling obsession of mine even followed me to Chicago where I actually got a responsive action from Jim at Wrigley (probably wasn’t expecting a Reds fan to heckle him in Wrigleyville though, yeah I’m stealthy like a ninja). I think I’ve always enjoyed just messing with people and that was reassured this past Father’s Day.

We were at my grandparents house this past Sunday looking through old family albums (I didn’t even recognize Stubby with two hands) and reminiscing about the good old days through storytelling. One of those stories G’pa was telling involved my first trip to Hawaii, my first flight alone, my first jet lag, the first time G’pa offered to piss on my foot (I stepped on a sea urchin and no he didn’t piss on me, that would have been worse than actually stepping on that venomous little devil) and the last time I ever used a payphone.

So prior to my trip to Hawaii I purchased some highly trendy thrift store tees (because I’m a follower and not a leader) and wore one the first day at the beach. One of our trip companions asked why I was wearing an “Apache” shirt as she was a teacher and interested in my second hand garment. Of course I can’t just say I grab it off the ½ price Tuesday rack at Goodwill so I go into detail about a senior high school English project I was working on (playing to her heart strings of course). That this project was some kind of genealogy project in class in which I discovered I was an eighth Apache (or some bullshit like that) so that’s why I got the shirt. G’pa said she was so impressed with my knowledge of our family as well as in how I much I showed pride in my heritage (got her).

The last time I used a payphone was actually also in Hawaii on this same trip and it was to call my girlfriend back on the mainland (how you like my Island lingo). This blonde haired and blued eyed Ram cheerleader (shocker I know, totally not my type) was asking me about my trip and how it was going. I couldn’t resist myself so I said the trip was fine and then told her that I was shocked because there was a bunch of Asians on the island and that they were all really tall. She was flabbergasted and couldn’t comprehend this fact, stating she always thought they were so short (maybe she was a little racist but hey, no body’s perfect). I said I did too but then I went on to explain to her that when you convert the metric system of meters and centimeters that the Asians use to the standard system of feet and inches we use in the States it actually makes them taller than us. I’m still unclear to this day if she knows now that I was totally full of shit back then or not (got her).

I think in a way this writing of mine is just another way of me messing with someone. Unfortunately it’s actually myself I’m messing with when you really boil it down and I’m not sure if this is going to work out for me or not. I mean I know that ever since I’ve started writing things may have not changed all that much with the BMD but I do seem to be handling this all a lot better though. Maybe messing with my BMD by writing these ridiculous stories every week makes me feel not so intimated by it. Like messing with it makes me feel like I’m leveling the playing field a little or something (but on the other hand this all could backfire pretty bad because I’ve always heard you can’t bullshit a bullshitter).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

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