Not even fully done with my shift and already learned a valuable life lesson. An elderly woman came to my register with her elderly woman friend. I made her aware that some of her items were on sale, and she was very pleased. At the closing moments of the transaction she said “Wow those sale prices were great this feels like Christmas.” I said “Yeah I guess I’m something like Santa Claus.” Her reply was “I wish I would’ve brought my camera to get a picture on Santa’s lap.” As soon as she said that I swear I heard the scratch sound the DJ makes when he abruptly stops the music. I was able to minimize the awkwardness by laughing it off and not making any further eye contact (Which is what you’re supposed to do if confronted by a dangerous cougar in the wild). Never judge a book by it’s cover. I feel like a piece of meat.
"I always feel like I can do anything. That’s the main thing people are controlled by. They’re slowed down by the perception of themselves. I was taught I could do everything. And I’m Kanye West at age 36."
Whenever you witness evil in your life you must keep faith in the fact that there are good people in this world. I learned this at a very young age. 2nd grade, to be exact. I was home on a Tuesday morning getting ready for school. I was dressed and ready for breakfast… A giant bowl of Trix of course. Problem was I couldn’t open the new milk gallon (This was before the people at the Milk headquarters made the little tab in the cap and seal that made opening milk easier and more enjoyable for everyone). My dad was unusually pissed about this and wouldn’t let me leave to go to the bus stop until I opened this milk. 1 hour goes by, I miss my bus, never even opened the milk, and my palm looked like it was covered in dried Elmer’s glue. So he drives me. I get to school a couple hours late, and my dad walks me to class. Right as I walk in, one of the “Popular kids” comes up to me all concerned about where I’ve been and put his hand on my head like he was about to pray for my wife and kids and said, “I’m glad you’re alright.” I walked back over to my dad who was in the door and he said “Don’t be letting nobody touch all on your head!” Then we said our goodbyes. I was still bitter about the milk challenge from earlier, and so was he. The day went by, and I kept getting crazy looks from everyone. I was used to this because at that time, the size of my skull was nearly bigger than the rest of me. For some reason teachers were avoiding eye contact, and nobody wanted to tag me at recess. It was all so abnormal. It wasn’t until I walked into daycare after school and the whore I had the biggest crush on looked at me and burst into laughter like an evil villain with the perfect plan to kill Batman. Every kid in the daycare was crying laughing and I didn’t get why. Only one other kid wasn’t laughing. He pulled me off to the side and said something I’ll never forget, He said, “Dude someone put a booger on your head.” I sprinted to the bathroom and yes, a XXL bright green booger right there in the same spot the kid touched my head that morning. After I washed out the embarrassment with that cocaine-like powdered soap and water I thought, “I went the entire day with a booger on my head and no one bothered to tell me. Friends, teachers, my dad, nobody?” But instead of focusing on this betrayal, I realized the good deed the daycare kid had done. He went against society and told me about the booger on my head. So I encourage you all to be like that dude. Do what’s right, you’ll never know how it’ll impact someone’s life. It’s a couple decades later and I still remember that day like it just happened. And whatever you do, as a wise man once said to me, “Don’t be letting nobody touch all on your head!” For real.
If you’re gonna post about how “No one cares about the guy driving the car that got killed because he isn’t famous” at least have the decency not to refer to him as “The guy driving the car.” His name is Roger Rodas from Valencia, CA. He just celebrated his 38th birthday this past Halloween. He leaves behind his wife and 2 children. It took a 30 second Google search to learn that. Some of you take any opportunity to jump on your high horse to talk down to the people around you, even in tragedy. To say “No one cares” is idiotic. The people whose lives were impacted by Roger Rodas care. Just like the fans, family and friends of Paul Walker care. Death is not a popularity contest. I can’t even believe I have to say that.
I never understood why no one was ever as outraged and disgusted as I was whenever a teacher would lick the whole top half of their hand right before handing out worksheets. The papers were never that cohesive. Oh and moment of silence for that kid in the front row that got that first freshly moistened worksheet. I’m certain that’s how West Nile spreads.
When the snow falls I get the urge to go to indie band concerts in local pubs that sell tall PBRs, or hang with art majors and drink Mickey’s while bumping The Fray’s old albums and playing retro board games. My least favorite part of the snow season is all the layers the ladies have to wear. You won’t know what’s going on under all that North Face and UGG material until it’s too late. Then you gotta tell her your dog got in a horrible ski accident while shooting a Mentos commercial and you gotta meet your family at the pet hospital, then never call her back, but see her two weeks later at the mall looking good but in the back of your mind you know her toes looked like they were throwing up all the gang signs when she took her UGGs off, so you just walk past her without speaking. Happens every winter.
Some people listen to music to get hype before a workout, others drink pre-workout drinks. Me? I think about a night in Tampa a few years ago that changed my whole outlook on life. I was with 4 of my good friends on spring break, and we made a last minute decision to go out on St. Patty’s day (Best holiday of the year, might I add). We drove around until we gotta text from some ladies we’d met earlier in the week saying, “Come to the Kennedy.” We immediately pop bottles in the parking lot like we won the NBA Finals on New Years Eve, of some generic raspberry vodka. Thug life. By the time we got out the van we may have been just a little drunk. We arrive at The Kennedy, which at the time looked like something out of a movie. The line to get in weaved through the parking lot, the parking lot was filled with fancy cars and a trail mix-like variety of women. I was amazed, but the line to get in was slowly killing my dreams. After about 18 minutes of being in line, one of the bouncers comes to the center of the lot and yells “No more guys. If you’re a guy, get the f*** outta the line.” Last time I checked, I was a guy, but the raspberry liquid courage from the van had us all feeling invincible. All of us except our designated driver and very buff friend Dennis. He hadn’t drank a drop of liquor, and was more confident than any of us. The odds were stacked against us. Out of the 5 of us only 3 of us were of age, and they just said no guys allowed like we’re on the Titanic waiting for a lifeboat. We got to the front of the line and our anxiety was building. I looked at the buff bouncer who had an expression on his face that would be labeled “Douchebag” on the facial emotions magnet charts parents stick on their fridge. Dennis volunteers to go first. With no ID in hand, he starts talking to the bouncer. Meanwhile, the rest of us have already accepted defeat. Suddenly Dennis and the bouncer do a handshake I’ve never seen before, and the bouncer yells to the cashier while pointing at Dennis, “Yo, he’s cool.” I was in shock. They let us all in. Dennis was underage, no ID, and a guy, AND got in free. It was even crazier that they made the rest of us pay the cover. I could only conclude that they were a part of some buff brotherhood. I decided at that moment, “I must be a part of this brotherhood.” (Well technically I decided after spring break, because once we got in the club it got a little reckless. I won’t name drop, but one of us drank from a random beer that was stranded on the bar, one of us got on the stage (which is specifically for women to dance on) and started dancing with some African girls. All the familiar spring break activities) Easily the best night of the trip, and it wouldn’t have been possible without my brah from another ma, Dennis. I literally replay this story in my mind every time I’m at the gym. Salute.