Random Life Story Number #3 or 3 Flights of Stairs and a 300 lb Foosball Table
Posted on | May 19, 2012 | No Comments
A few years ago (more than a few, but less than a decade), my friends and I were really into playing foosball whenever we could. We got so good we accepted random challenges at bars, and boasted about victories. So one Christmas when I saw a slate top foosball table in my aunt’s basement I got really excited. I told her, and my parents how amazing of a table it was. It was bar/restaurant quality at least.
A few months later when my parents called me up to tell me Tina (my aunt) said I could have it I got real excited. Until then we played mostly on crappy cheap tables when not out at bars. The problem existed though that it was still 6 hours away at my aunts. But it gave my parents a good excuse to come visit (it fit in the van with the seats removed). Graciously I told them to bring it out whenever, that I’d love to have, and something about them being the best parents in the world and to give my aunt my ever lasting gratitude.
They showed up a few weeks later and we started to unload it. I can’t remember who it was exactly that was there to help, Mike maybe. It could have been Rollin or Reggie also, but for some reason I think it was Mike. Regardless it was someone I considered stronger than me significantly. We (we being Mike… I’ll just say it was Mike from here on out, my father and myself) pulled it from the van. I swear the thing had to be over 200 pounds easily. Apparently large slabs of slate are not light. When my dad told me that him and my mother shoved it in the van themselves at Tina I was shocked (but it made the fact that they brought it out to Buffalo all that much more amazing).
At the time I lived in a second story apartment. It came with an unfinished attic that Mike was using as a bedroom. That was were we planned to put the foosball table. For some reason getting it up the first set of stairs was pretty easy. Mike and my father took the top and I supported the bottom. The real problem would be the narrow stairway to the attic. It would be hard to fit multiple people up the stairs at one time, and twist the foosball table up the steps and around the corner.
But we were single minded in our efforts. And again I took the bottom, Mike and my father at the top. We got about halfway up the stairs and my father and Mike decided we needed a break. The problem that arose at this point was that I was supporting the majority of the weight on the bottom, and if i set it down on the stairs I would never be able to pick it up again. With no way to set it down, and no way to prop it up on anything, I just set it on my thighs.
The break went from a few minutes to a fifteen minute break. And I stood there the whole time with the weight of the of the foosball on my thighs. Somehow it didn’t hurt, and I was able to pick it right up when we were set to get going again. And we got it up there.
The foosball table rocked. We used it for years, and then when I moved I gave it to Mike. Who still has it in his house in Buffalo. The memories from that foosball table will last forever.
The bruising that appeared instantly on my thighs lasted about a month.
Random Life Story #2 or Happy Mother’s Day
Posted on | May 13, 2012 | No Comments
My friends joke that my mom doesn’t care about me. Its not that she doesn’t care, its that she has this faith that everything will be fine, or at least that I’ll be fine. That’s what she tells me at least. That and that it will make a good story.
There are many stories that reinforce this, but none so much as the time my friends and I went to see a late night movie in high school.
I’m not sure what movie it was. It may have been The Crow 2, or Mortal Kombat or some cheesy thing like that. Something that was surely marketed to high school boys. Regardless of the movie, Reggie, Keith and I were the only ones in the theater. It started at 11, or 10:40 or something similar to that. Last movie starting in the theater, and in my recollected memories I pictures the workers being annoyed that we actually showed up. It was in July or August, definitely summer, and we had nothing else to do. So we went to a late night movie, got some popcorn and soda, and settled in.
Keith had driven us. He was legal to drive, but was under 18 so he wasn’t allowed to drive after 10 o’clock (maybe it was 9, I don’t recall… all I know is that there was a drive curfew for kids under 18). We readily ignored those hours when we hung out, Keith drove us all over the place.
The movie was about two hours long and when we exited I don’t think they even tried to clean up the theater after us. They locked the doors, and while we were talking about the “awesomeness” of the movie outside Keith’s car and we watched them all drive off. When we finally got into Keith’s car to leave it wouldn’t start. We sat around a bit, tried starting it again and again it wouldn’t start.
Being the high school kids we were we carried no cash on us. Or at least had no coins. We came up with one quarter between the three of us. This was 1996 or 1995 and cell phones were non-existent. We thought about it a while and called my house. In the discussion of who’s house to call, we decided there was always someone up at my house because it was the busiest.
Sadly no one answered. I left a long extended call that went something like this:
“Hi. This is AJ. I’m with Keith and Reggie and Keith’s car won’t start. We at the theater on Route 9 and are going to start walking home. If you get this please come get us. We’re going to walk on Route 9 until we can cut through a neighborhood to Aviation Road, then Potter and down West Mountain. It looks like its going to rain. Thanks.”
After that we started walking. Although I always exaggerate the distance, it couldn’t have been more than 6 miles. It started raining almost immediately. We walked down the middle of roads hoping someone would tke pity on us and pick us up. We even kicked over construction barrels, but the police (who did drive by) didn’t think we were “hooligan-ish enough” to stop and talk to.
On Potter road we actually ran into some people I ran with on the Cross-Country team. However they were extremely drunk and stumbling down the road. Nice enough though. They even offered to drive us home but we smartly declined.
About a mile from my parents, soaked, and having walked for what seemed like forever we came to Reggie’s house. Both Keith and Reggie decided to crash there, but I was annoyed, tired and wet enough to want to head back home. So I said goodbye and walked the last mile home.
When I finally stumbled in the door I found my mother sitting at the island in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading. I was shocked, astounded really. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I had to ask, so I did.
“Did you hear the message I left on the answering machine?”
“Yes. Actually it woke me up,” she replied.
“And you listened to the message?”
“Yep. I figured you’d be ok. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just shuffled by her and started down the stairs. Before I reached the first step my mom added one last thing, the one thing that made this story all the more fantastical.
“You know… if it were any of my other children I would have left right away to go get them.”
Yeah. My mom, she told me that. I didn’t even turn around. I just headed downstairs to my room and passed out.
To this day I swear that’s the story I’ll tell of my mom at her wake. Those are the words my mom told me. My brother, any of my three sisters; if any of them had been in that situation she would have gone to get them right away, but not me.
Of course it can be taken many different ways. At the basest it sounds like a statement that my brothers and sisters are more important than me. But that’s not how I take, nor how I ever took. I actually took it as a joke at first. My mom can make funny little quips like that.
But, and she insists this how she meant it, she meant it that I would be fine no matter what’s going on around me. That I can get through whatever is happening.
Its a nice admission, of strength, of support, of belief in who I am. That I’ve made good choices, that I’m the kind of person she can be proud of.
And of course…
It makes a nice story.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom. Love You.
Marraige: Same Sex or Otherwise
Posted on | May 9, 2012 | 1 Comment
Sooo disappointed in North Carolina right now. How do people defend that vote as anything other than discrimination. It really is disappointing.
In my logical head I see this as a non-issue, only a non-issue in the sense that ten years down the line I don’t think it will be an issue. It will be a norm accepted everywhere. But right I just feel sad and disappointed.
Sam and I were talking about it and I think that marriage should be stuck from legal speak everywhere. If the defenders are saying marriage is a sacred institution that God (with a capital G) needs defended and defined as between a Man and Woman, then it shouldn’t be a term the government uses.
Let every couple be defined as a civil union. Instead of letting both Man and Woman and Same Sex couples be defined as civil unions, not marriages in the governments eyes and terminology. Let bigots and honest god fearing religious conservatives that want to keep the rights they enjoy from other people different from them (a very religiously and Jesus like thing to do I sure) be brought down to the civil union status. They can keep marriage as a non-legal word that carries no weight in court, with regard to benefits, and in the eyes of any elected or governmental person or institution. It’s theirs, but has no legal weight at all.
There you go. No more conflict. Go to your priest, pastor, cleric, imam, prophet, or whatever religious leader you want declare you married, and then go down to city hall or whatever governmental institution and get your Civil Union license. Bam.
On your taxes it says Civil Union, not married. During the census, Civil Union. For everyone.
How great would that be? All those couples that voted against Same Sex Marriage, no problem, the government does’t recognize your marriage either, but your civil union, you got it. No more bitching. Not taking away any rights, just changing terminology. They do it with taxes all the time.
Just my two cents.
Story-Time
Posted on | April 16, 2012 | 1 Comment
After going to see William Shatner with Sam on Saturday, and loving it, I decided to start writing some blog posts just based off of old stories. All Shatner did was great, funny, meaningful (to him) stories from his life. And I thought, “I do that all the time.” So why not write some down. I’ve often found when comparing memories and stories with friends that I seem to remember more than they do.
Sooooo, lets start with a short tale. More of a facet of a day. Random happening.
I helped my friends Jason and Danei (and baby Harvey) move this weekend. While helping them move I was also texting Pat about completely different things.
But the fact that both moving and Pat were on my mind brought back a story from sophomore year of college. I had shown up at college a week early for cross-country and freshman orientation (I was helping out with it, along with our friend Matt). I had my room all set up and moved in. I spent a majority of the time not at practice hanging out in Matt’s dorm room, what we would affectionately call “The Quad” because it was one of the few four person dorm rooms on campus (if not the only one at that time). Matt also was the friend with the dominate video game system of the time…. the original Playstation.
Matt also had a small water warmer that made cooking up Ramen extremely easy. So one afternoon, despite Matt not being there I still was in the dorm room playing Playstation and eating some ramen. Pat shows up with his father to move all his crap in, he’s one of the roommates in the Quad. Now at the time Pat and I were friends, but not the great friends we are now. That’s another story, and involves fighting. No, at this point we were just ok friends.
So Pat comes in and sets his bag down. We say our hi’s but I don’t remotely move off the couch. In fact the whole time Pat is moving his crap into the dorm, which is on the fourth floor, and there isn’t an elevator, I stay seated on the couch playing video games and eating my Ramen. He doesn’t say anything to me during the move (or if he does I’m not paying attention).
No, the only words I hear out of Pat’s mouth after he’s moved all his stuff in is “I will never, ever help you move.” I do believe there were some swear words, probably just calling me an ass. Pat is fond of calling me an ass, so yeah, that was probably part of it. I don’t know if he was pissed, or just upon reflecting that I didn’t move to help him he was annoyed. But whatever.
To this day Pat hasn’t ever helped me move. But that’s fine too, I don’t think he was around for anytime I had to move.
Its nice to know he’s still sticking to his word.
iPad Drawings
Posted on | April 10, 2012 | No Comments
I’ve been practicing drawing on the iPad with my new stylus. It’s a Pogo Sketch stylus, and I like it a lot. So here are some quick doodles.
50 miles
Posted on | April 8, 2012 | No Comments
I biked 50 miles yesterday. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. I didn’t prepare for it or anything, just went out for what I planned on being a 20 mile ride, then 30 mile ride, then 40 and finally 50. Being that I hadn’t eaten at all that day (except for a handful of Reese’s Pieces) it was probably not the smartest right to take.
It was also a solid 3 hour and 20 some odd minutes of biking. I really half-assed it on the way back, but I didn’t stop at all (except for red lights) and even made it up what I dubbed the “Stuper-hill) at mile 44. I hadn’t really thought about it before hand, but the last 15 miles of the ride take me from a place called Valley View to my apartment up near the lake. All slight uphill. That is a stupid way to end a bike ride.
The only muscles that got tired enough to actually quiver and then knot up were my inner thighs. Mostly on my right leg, first at mile 40, then 42, then 44 (on the hill, where left inner thigh joined right inner thigh in its knotting up), and then miles 46 – 48.
After mile 50 I stopped at Liquid Planet for a smoothie (Orange Creamsicle, oranges and other such fruit and yogurt) coast around the block home and carried my bike up the three floors. I made a hot bath to relax my muscles and actually got out of the tub feeling pretty good, just tired.
My goal for this break is to bike 200 miles. With the 50 mile venture yesterday I’ve made solid dent in the miles I have to right. I feel pretty good with the 87 minutes for the first 25. I need to just make the last 25 more steadily paced.
Odd
Posted on | April 2, 2012 | No Comments
It may be a little odd, but I occasionally have whole conversations with my cats. Not just the cats though, also with Sam’s Guinea Pigs. They also swear a lot in these conversations. At me.
Like I said. Odd.
Anyways, so tonight when I get out of the shower Oscar is standing on the sink looking at me like he usually does. Since he got worse a few weeks ago he has been more and more cuddly and much more of a follower (he’s always around). When I shower he usually stands on the sink and stares at me through the shower curtain.
When I get out and stare in the eyes this whole conversation plays out. Not in my head mind you, rather out loud with me giving both voices.
Me: Glad you are sticking around Oscar.
Oscar: I’m still sick.
Me: You’re doing better though. That’s cause you’re a Charpentier.
Oscar: I’ve only been a Charpentier for a few years though.
Me: Doesn’t matter. We ignore pain and sickness through stubbornness and will power. The Vet gave you a week and its been almost three and you’re still kicking. In fact you are the best you’ve been in a month.
Oscar: You know it doesn’t mean that I’m alright.
Me: Well duh. Charpentier’s may ignore pain and injuries and sickness up until death or falling over from exhaustion, but we’re not stupid.
Oscar: Sounds stupid when you put it like that.
Me: OSCAR. Its ok, I still love you.
Oscar: Love you too. Now give me some food you bastard.
I realize
Posted on | March 21, 2012 | No Comments
I realize there have to be worse ways to wake up but…..
a cat throwing up loudly at the end of your bed has to be near the top of the list. The sounds are bad enough, however when added with the horrifying accompanying scents it’s nauseating.
To double-down on the “you’ll not get back to sleep after this” Angelo then followed up the vomiting with crapping in the other room…. not in the litter. In case you’re wondering, yes, you can hear Angelo shitting, it is like a loud, messy, wet popping now that happens several time in sequence. Oh yeah…. that smells too.
I realize he’s old, and eating lots of wet cat food of differing varieties and healthiness because we are trying to keep Oscar eating by buying whatever food tastes good, but if he never does this again I’ll be a happy man.
But I’m not kidding myself.
Sigh.
St Patrick’s Day at 33
Posted on | March 17, 2012 | No Comments
So St. Patrick’s Day takes on a whole other form at 33. In a past life (or past years) I would be planning a night of drunken debauchery. Instead 33 looks a bit more subdued.
Currently I’m having a beer and cleaning. Yeah… it’s 9:45 am, but this is my first beer in two weeks or so (I really don’t drink anymore) and I’m in a good mood. Its gorgeous outside, Smashing Pumpkins are blasting from the stereo, and our place is a mess. So cleaning and a beer to start the day.
Looking forward I hope the day goes something like this.
Another hour of cleaning (as I said, its a mess)
40 minutes of prepping my bike for a ride outside (its been on the trainer all winter)
1 – 2 hour ride (depending on how I feel)
Shower
Trip to the store (buy some beer, some grilling foods, and other such)
Trip to the park for grilling and walking Oscar
Home and Video games in the evening with Sam (she’s working today)
Out to a bar with Sam for a few drinks
Midnight Showing of An American Werewolf in London at the Capitol Theater with Sam
Sleep
Sunday is planned out also:
Wake
10 o’clock showing of The Apartment at the Capitol (I really want to see this one, Sam wants to see American Werewolf in London…. we’ll sacrifice sleep to see both)
Coffee Pot?
Chuppa’s Market
Dick’s Sporting Goods (look at biking jerseys) & Apple Store (iPad for Sam??)
Laundry
Walk Oscar
DInner??
Sleep
In a past life St. Patrick’s Day falling on the weekend was a reason for all sorts of craziness, this year is more subdued, and I’m ok with it. By the By:
Happy Birthday PJ
&
8 years ago I my appendix tried to kill me. (8, 9, whatever. I survived, Appendix didn’t. He put up a good fight and had the doctors all thinking I’d die, but it’ll take more than gangrene and an angry organ to kill me.)
Ode to Oscar
Posted on | March 14, 2012 | No Comments
You are my cat.
Therefore you must rock.
I took Oscar to the vet today. He has an infection in his tooth, same tooth (or at least area) as last summer. When I took him last summer was when I found out about his Kidney issues, and they basically said he had 1 – 2 years left. Last visit at the end of October was fantastic. He was doing great, they pushed back bringing him in from every 6 weeks to 6 months this time.
So when I brought him in for his tooth I figured everything else was fine (Kidney wise). I knew he had lost some weight because he wasn’t eaten much at all, but he was a full 4 pounds lighter than his last visit. The vet still thought it was just his tooth, but wanted to do blood work anyways. His blood work revealed that he was basically in the end stages of Kidney failure. He had weeks essentially.
They offered to keep him there and super hydrate him with fluids, but there were downsides to that as well. I told them I’d rather take him home with me. So he’s on antibiotics, pain medicine (for his mouth) and I have to give him an IV every night. It sounds like a lot, but its not. Even with all this they said it wouldn’t be a recovery so much as a postponement, which I’m ok with if that’s all I get.
I went in with some worries, was picked up when she said she thought it was just his tooth and antibiotics would help, and then kinda crushed when the blood work came back. When the vet come back with results and she has tears in her eyes and is having trouble talking its definitely not good news.
Before I left they told me to “Get him whatever food he likes best, take him out for lots of walks to his favorite places, give him treats and make him comfortable, he’ll let you know when its time.”
I got Oscar three years ago from my friend Dani. She was moving and couldn’t take Oscar with her. It took him a long while before I considered him mine. ALmost a year really. I was used to Angelo, and Angelo and Oscar are two completely different cats. Angelo is a perfect apartment cat. Independent, quiet, loves to cuddle. He doesn’t need anything from you but your warmth, food, water and a clean litter box. Oscar needs and craves attention. He wants adventure, whether a laser pointer, toy mouse, or running around in a park. And that last bit is how I really bonded with him.
I spent a whole summer taking Oscar to the park with me. I don’t have a ton of friends out here in Cleveland, and going to the park and reading, or walking around, or laying on my hammock was always more enjoyable with Oscar there with me. He would run about on his leash and harness for a while and then just settle down on the grass in the shade. After a particularly windy storm out here there were tree limbs all over. Oscar had a ball. He once found a tree with a big hole in the bottom that he could crawl into. He sat vigil in that hole for over an hour.
Almost two years ago when I was dating Sarah we got a ferret. Oscar and the ferret were best friends. It was crazy to see them jumping around and chasing each other. Oscar never attempted to hurt the ferret, just loved playing with her. It was a bizarre relationship between them, they were like siblings. Awesome to see, and made me never worry about them being lonely.
Oscar and Angelo on the other hand are like brothers who love and kind of can’t stand each other at the same time. They’ll lay near each other, groom each other on occasion, but you’d never think they really got along. Usually they are at opposite ends of the bed or couch or even apartment. They fight occasionally. But on the other end of the spectrum Angelo won’t leave the apartment unless Oscar is in front of him blazing the trail. If the door is open and Oscar is out there Angelo will go out. No Oscar and he stays right in the safe apartment.
Oscar basically became family.
So yeah, it was kind of crushing to hear that news today.
keep looking »Meisaj: The Tumblr
Coffee Pot for Breakfast
Adler 9009 Lens, DC Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic
Tater tots, veggie dogs, and a beer. Happy Dog rocks.
Libatique 73 Lens, AO BW Film, No Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic
AJ and Sam at the Cleveland Asian Festival.
Roboto Glitter Lens, Alfred Infrared Film, Cherry Shine Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic
