Make up story

First of all.  Yeah I didn't post last week.  I've really been slipping lately.  After the first time a few weeks back or whatever, I was all, "Oooh - Ima post on Wednesdays."

Then that didn't happen.  Then I was out of town last Thursday so I didn't bother.  I didn't even bother to do the post thing over the weekend.  Which sucked for me because I have a strict rule not to read the other posts until I've posted.

Granted - I can be pretty sure (But not completely) that Brady will post about however his race went the previous weekend.  But I don't know the details yet.

For this post I will tell 2 short stories.

Jack and Abe are 12 and 10 years old in that order.  Abe turned 10 on his last birthday.  Sorry, I couldn't resist.  Abe turned 10 on June 28th.  He only wanted one thing for his birthday.  It was either a hamster or a gerbil.  I'm not sure which.  Whatever it was, that's what he got.

Cute little thing.  It stays in the boys' bedroom in this aquarium deal.

After we put the boys to bed, we let them read for a while before lights out.  The other night I went in the room to tell them lights out and a stench most foul hit me as I opened the door.  I was gasping for air.  It was a horrible reeking sin against humanity.  My eyes immediately began to water.  In desperation, I covered my face with the lapel of my bathrobe and said goodnight to the boys.  They looked at me and laughed.  They knew they were cursed with some sort of stomach ailment and they did not care.

I tried to figure out what they could have eaten to cause this sort of gastrointestinal uprising. I had no clue.

Looking to the corner, I was suddenly concerned about Bibbles.  Bibbles is the name Abe gave to the Hamster or Gerbil or whatever it is.  I ran to the aquarium to find Bibbles in the wheel obviously trying to run away from the noxious fumes.

"Don't you worry about Bibbles?" I asked Abe.

"Yeah.  I mean Oh!"  Then he laughed when he realized what I meant.

"If you had a pet parakeet, it would have died hours ago," I continued.

The only reason I tell this story is because of what happened next.  I know there are proud parents all over the world.  Everybody at work who has a kid has at one time or another boasted about Jr's great accomplishments.  Whether it's baseball, basketball or some sort of academic achievement, I hear it all at work.

I like my kids ok, but they don't really necessarily stand out in any way that I feel like boasting about.

Unless it comes to comedy.  That's where they really shine.

The other night they were saying "Give us a kiss and a hug."

That's the normal protocol, but on this night I categorically refused.  No way I was staying in that room one second longer than necessary.  Already, the robe defense was weakening.  I found myself doubling up the lapel in an effort to reinforce the shield, but the smell was seeping into the fabric.  I had to get out of there.

That's when Jack shouted "Release the Dutch Oven!" and threw off the blanket.

I simultaneously laughed, cried and fled the room screaming, slamming the door shut behind me.

So am I proud of my kids?  I couldn't be prouder.  No word on how Bibbles got through the night.

Story 2:

Back when I was working at the U.P., when I commuted by bike, I usually went up Cuming from 30th.  This is not a horrible climb.  Maybe 5 or 6 percent for about 2/3 of a mile.

At about 38th and Cuming, the police like to set up shop and radar traffic.  The posted limit is 35, but 45 -50 MPH is common on that stretch.  Easy picking for the cops.

One day, I was slogging along at about 12 MPH and they were there.  There were 3 cops with their little radar guns, aiming down the hill.  As I went by, I said, "I slowed down when I saw you guys." Big laughs all around.

When I was in High School, I thought I was going to grow up to be a comedian.  I thought I was funny.  I did a few stand up performance things at open mikes and thought it went pretty well.  The main problem I had was that I couldn't bring myself to tell the same joke more than once.  The other main problem is that I was a stupid teenager who wasn't funny.  Although I recently watched a documentary about Bill Hicks and he was a stupid teenager when he started out too.  But oh yeah - he was pretty funny, though.  I guess that was the difference.

So the other day, I'm slogging away up that Cuming hill.  I'm going about 13 mph.

I didn't see the cop and his radar gun. I only noticed when he stepped into the street and stopped 2 cars to pull them over.  It was weird because he was directing them to pull over right into my path.  The drivers were hesitating so I could pass by, but he was insistent that they go "Right fucking now."

I had to slow down or risk running into them.  As I was waiting for the path to clear, some guy was leaning against a light pole.  He said, "You was [sic] going 14 all the way up that hill."

I said real loud like "I was going 13.  Somebody's radar gun needs to be calibrated."

I wanted the people getting pulled over to hear my Bill Hicks like joke.  I think they did.

The cop certainly did.  He looked at me and did not laugh.  At all.

Fuck that guy.

One thing that was kind of interesting about that is that to the guy leaning against the pole, 14 MPH up that hill is impressive.  There will always be lots of people around way faster than me, but sometimes it's nice to be reminded that not everybody can ride a bike even kind of fast.

The other thing I was surprised by was that the cop was bored enough to clock my speed and share it with the bystander guy.

Oh yeah and fuck that guy.  The cop, not the bystander.  He was cool.