Archive for June, 2011

Motor Scooter

So I’m sitting in the locker room today at the gym. I had just gotten there and wanted to send a quick text message. There was an older, fatter man sitting in the same section – naked.

“Put away that cell phone,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Cell phones aren’t allowed in the locker room. There’s a sign around the corner.”

Then he proceeded to walk his fat, wrinkly, naked ass around the corner to prove it. “Well, that’s not the sign, but it’s somewhere around here,” he grumbled.

“Do you find this offensive?” I asked, as I held up my cell phone.

“Actually, I do.”

“Really? You know what I find offensive? – Some dude talking to me while he’s naked.”

He shut up and got dressed. I put on my workout clothes, but not before I spent another couple of minutes on my cell phone.

Dick weed.

I repeat will, The Real Slim Shady please stand up?
We’re gonna have a problem here

Soiled Mattress

I noticed this mattress sitting on my neighbor’s patio the other night. I knew the girl that used to live there had moved out, so I was a little concerned about the new neighbors.

“Maybe they’re moving things around inside and needed the space,” someone said.

“Maybe,” I replied.

The following morning I ran into one of the Melrose Place staff.

Drink – I said staff.

“Who’s my new neighbor?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“Because they have a soiled mattress sitting on their patio.”

He looked outside, and realized what apartment I was talking about.

“Oh, that one. There’s no one living there right now. The girl that used to live there left that behind.”

“That’s her mattress?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason.”

The world
And the world turns around

Cherry Mash Candy Bar

Road Trip to Kansas City last weekend…

Friday
My buddy Wil E. Coyote let me ride shotgun as he had been in St. Louis all week, and can’t stand being alone. I cracked a cold one about halfway, and turned the radio to the Grateful Dead station on XM.

Wil E.’s not much of a Dead Head, but in 45 minutes we heard St. Stephen, Sugaree, Turn On Your Love Light, Ripple and Shakedown Street.

He would probably be a fan of their music today had it not been for the cicada loose in the car. I thought the horny insect would sit still while I nailed the last verse of Ripple – But it flew right into his head.

He pulled the car over, and we jumped out looking like a scene from Tommy Boy.

Later that night we met up with some college buddies, and repeated stories everyone has heard at least a dozen times. Still funny. Oh, and I fell in love with another bartender. Not sure yet, but this could be the one.

Saturday
I spent the day watching Lil’ Bro coach my nephew’s baseball team. He’s been the skipper since tee ball, and I’m always impressed at how the kids’ skills improve every year.

It seems like yesterday when I surprised my nephew by driving up to a game when he was probably 6 or 7 years old. As he rounded third base, I shouted his name. He stopped running – saw me standing there – and smiled and waved.

“Run home!” I shouted.

He gave me an ‘Oh, right’ look, and had to slide into home plate. He was safe because the kid can slide like Ricky Henderson. I just hope he never talks about himself in the third person. That’s a baseball reference.

RT @summerofbenny: “Kid, go play catch while I try to get to 3rd base with your mom.” – Things not to say at a little league baseball tournament.

Sunday
Lil’ Bro didn’t have a game, so he dropped me off at another ballpark where my buddy G-man was coaching in his daughter’s tournament. He was my ride home and their first game was at 9:30 AM.

“If we lose, we’re done and on the road,” he told me.

So I got there around 10:30 thinking I wouldn’t have to wait too long. But those crazy girls kept winning. We finally got on the road around 5:30 that evening.

Note: I haven’t had a beer since Friday, so I’m a little shaky. That’s an alcoholic reference.

Commentary
As a kid, you never realize how much time and money your parents invest in you. For years, my mom spent her Saturdays sitting on metal bleachers watching her boys play baseball. My dad was either the head coach or an assistant coach on most of our teams.

When you factor in the countless practices, and other sports we played, it’s truly amazing what they did for us. My dad has passed, but I think I’m going to tell my mom how much I appreciate them.

But I won’t do it here because if she ever read some of my stories, she would probably have me committed.

Just one thing I ask of you, just one thing for me
Please forget you know my name, my darling Sugaree

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