Category: Stories

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Stories Tragic

Foolish Pride

On Friday I ran out of gas. At work. In the parking lot.

I was devestated. I started to push the car back into the parking space but the Honda Pilot is heavy and I was having a great deal of difficulty. A co-worker came to my rescue and I was at least somewhat happy that it was a male co-worker that wouldn’t later make fun of me for the rest of my career at TI when he passed me in the hallway.

“Eddie you need some help?” Chris asked with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I think I ran out of gas.” I said miserably with a chuckle of embarrassment. “This has never happened to me before.”

The truth is I’ve ran out of gas a number of times in my life, but not once in the last 10 years.  When I was younger I had a truck that had a broken gas gauge and it left me stranded numerous times. My main reason for not filling up is because I AM LAZY. Gas is a pain in the butt to stop and buy. It costs money and eats up precious minutes that I could be using to something productive, like eating malt vinegar chips and swilling soda while watching HGTV.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” Chris asked.

“Well, I live really close by and so if you could run me home that would be great.”

I had friends coming over for a dinner and game night and I had much to do before their arrival.

I got home and pondered how I was going to make my last minute grocery store purchases without a car? I decided to just ride my bike to the grocery store and then when one of my guests asked, “Where’s your car?” I said, “Oh, I left it at work so I would be forced to ride my bike around town this weekend.” The lie came easily because I HAD REHEARSED IT. Can you believe it. How dumb and I?

Saturday morning I woke up and wondered how funny I would look if I was carrying a gas can to my office. Just two miles from my house it wouldn’t be a long walk. My brain processed all the possible options: Call Roger and Jes, Ask my next door neighbor, ride my bike with the gas can, wait until dark and then make the trek to my office building. I finally decided to disquise the gas can with plastic trash bags and ride my bike to the office. It worked flawlessly. The bags made it look like I had made  a grocery run. It was still so early in the morning that there were few cars on the street and although the gas can contained about 3 gallons of gas in it, I was able to balance it rather easily on the left side of the bike handle.

Lastly, I needed a funnel for the gas. What to do, what to do. I emptied out a bottle of Mrs. Meyers lavender fabric softener, cut the end off it and washed it thoroughly, bam!- homemade funnel created.

I got my Honda running with little effort after I filled the tank with abotu 2 gallons of gas. I immediately drove to the nearest gas station and filled up the tank and was delighted to find that gas was only $2.99 a gallon! Sweet.

So I got my car running without having to call on anyone (other than my co-worker Chris) for help, something I’ve resigned myself not to do. I don’t like being needy and sometimes it’s good to just figure things out on your own.

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Stories

The Proposal

“You are gorgeous, I’d make you a great wife, I’d love for you to just wrap your big arms around me and hold me.”  The flirtation continued with phrases like, “You big monkey boy” and “Isn’t he a big monkey man?”

It was exactly what I wanted to hear, except for the monkey part, unfortunately it was from a man…

Just a small excerpt from my experience yesterday while DJ’ing a wedding with my sister.

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Relationships Stories

The one I scared that got away…

“Ice, Ice, Baby…” I said, as she gave me the cold shoulder. Her long blonde tresses barely concealed the cruel line of her epicene lips. Lips that I would never kiss.

Walking away she looked even more beautiful. I liked that, that feeling of losing something, the feeling of something getting away – it made the hunt even more exhilirating. But she was losing me and I didn’t even realize it. One moment she was there and then… she was gone.

I looked for her again at her favorite watering hole. I set traps, I placed bait, but she never took it. She is gone for good, never coming back.

The two of us were actually made for each other, I know, because we are exact opposites and exactly the same. Driven, intelligent, unable to deal with the trivialities of this world and wanting to do everthing that we wanted to do and nothing else. It smacks of selfishness but really it’s a form of protection. A carefully constructed wall that keeps the riff-raff out and allows us to get on with our oredered lives instead of taking a chance on a new one.

People always tell me, “There are other fishes in the sea…” but we aren’t talking about fish now, are we.

It’s been over 6 months now and I still think about her smile, it’s warmth is quickly diminished by the memory of how she could be so cold. I miss her most because she was never mine and I wonder if she was, if I’d even miss her at all.

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Stories

The Pie Hole

I love Pushing Daisies, that show about the guy who can touch people and bring them back to life, yeah, that one.

What I really like about the show is that the star of the show owns a pie shop called The Pie Hole. It’s this great little shop nestled at the bottom of a high rise and is very creatively crafted and cool.

I want to own a pie shop of my own. I want to sell gourmet slices of pie and coffee in an upscale environment that makes women want to come with their girlfriends and men will get pies to-go to take to their wives and girlfriends.

During the holidays I’ll have to hire extra staff to help me bake all of the pies and none of them will just be plain ol’ pies like Pecan, but they’ll be pies with names like “Change Your Life Pecan Pie” or “Oops I Crapped My Pants That Was So Good Fudge Pie”.

There would also be lots of vanilla ice cream and a syrup bar where you could add your own hot caramel, marshmallow, or chocolate.

On the weekends we would have live bands that dressed in 50’s clothing, poodle skirts, leather jackets, etc. One night a month we may have karaoke, but you could only sing classic diner songs.

I’d probably love getting it off the ground and it would be wonderful for the first few weeks, however, it would have to be really great or else I would get bored with it like I do with so many things in my life.

The best thing though about me is that when I do love something, truly love it, then I never get tired of it. Ever. Like German Chocolate Cake, Dr. Pepper, Cody Miller, Laughter, Great Music, Chinese Food, Best Friends…

So be sure to watch Pushing Daisies on Wednesday’s and maybe one day you will come and visit me at Shut Your Pie Hole.

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Stories

DON’T LOOK

On Sunday I went to eat lunch with my parents at Babe’s Chicken Diner in Sanger. After we gorged ourselves on chicken, fish, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn, we went next door to this tiny shop filled with all sorts of western and vintage goodies.

We made the store circuit and saw many cool vintage posters, some fun wooden crosses and a few other things that caught my eye. However, as we were about to leave I noticed this giant 5 foot tall by about 3 foot wide vintage John Wayne cartoon poster. It was all blues and oranges and I can’t remember it too well because I was afraid to look at it because I might have wanted it too much.

I quickly asked, “How much is it?”

“It’s $899, the frame is solid wood and the poster is from the 1950’s” the owner replied who was obviously trying to look like Elvis with his dark hair and side burns styled to look exactly like the 1970’s version of The King.

Still I dared not look too long at the actual imagery of the poster, but like cleavage I couldn’t help but be slightly tempted to look.

My mom kept chattering away and reading signs as I held the door open trying to escape. “Eddie, look at that sign, read it, I just have to have it!” she exclaimed. I laughed one of those half laughs you might laugh when you aren’t really paying attention and you are kind of scared that someone might see you that you don’t want to see or one of those laughs when you are just trying to get out the door so you aren’t tempted to pull our your Corporate Amex and charge the giant poster than you know you can’t live without.

It is Wednesday and I have not stopped thinking about that giant piece of art. I’ve imagined how it would look in my living room and add an excellent touch of masculinity and at the same time it would be a conversation piece and something I would treasure forever. When I get married it could go into a game room or a guest room or maybe even a media room.

I’ve pictured it with the colors in my living room. I’ve thought about the type of nails it would take to hang the post and I’ve pondered about the weight of it and if the nails would support it.

All this and I only saw the picture for a mere 10 seconds and even then I let my eyes drop out of focus.

I did the same thing when I bought my house. I walked in and did a cursory glance. I never looked at the garage, I quickly looked at the backyard and then I never even looked at the bathrooms, I wanted it so bad without even seeing these things that I knew if I looked anymore my desire would be all consuming.

So that is how I deal with things I cannot have, I just don’t look, because once I’m hooked I can’t say no.