This past weekend, I decided to go back home to Houston. My best friend had a show running that I really wanted to see. That wasn’t the only reason I decided to go home. I hadn’t had Luby’s in a while, and I can’t find any around here.
So after packing up, I get on the road around noon. I’ve got an awesome playlist that should take care of the entire trip. I work very hard on my iPod playlists. They’re pretty important.
As I was on the outskirts of Rice, Texas, I noticed on the other side of I-45 that a younger kid around my age had been pulled over by a State Trooper. I always find this stuff amusing because you know…it’s not me?
I drive past them with a little chuckle; after all, he was stupid enough to get caught doing something worthy of being pulled over (speeding, I assumed). What about that isn’t comical? I’ve got my music playing and I’m the last car in a series of 5 or so cars who are all in the left lane going well over the speed limit. Everything is going great; that is, until the song ends.
As the next track starts, I hear a sound that I have been “graced” with hearing only once before. That sound, fellow followers of the John Paul Green Project, was a cop siren. I had been signaled to surrender control of my vehicle and exit the freeway as soon as I safely could.
What I proceeded to say cannot be put into print. Those words would get me fired as a columnist. I cannot not write those words here. Just guess what those words are.
So I exit the freeway and drive over the bridge that was above the freeway and pull into a small little gas station. I put the car in park. My heartbeat picks up. I look like a hot mess. I won’t be able to win him over with my good looks.
He approaches my car. “Any reason why you were going so fast back there?”
“Uh…not really. Just trying to get home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home?”
“Houston. Texas.”
“I know where Houston is. Why are you up in Dallas?”
“For college.”
“Oh yeah? What school?”
“Southern Methodist University.”
“No way. You’re the 5th person I pulled over today that goes to SMU.” I felt so let down by our school. Come on people; bring the foot up off the pedal. He continued. “What are you studying up there? Law?”
I came to a crossroad in the conversation. I could correct him and tell him I was studying Theatre. Or I could lie and tell him I studied something else.
“Theology”, I said. “You know, thinking about things….religion…”
“ I know what Theology is.”
“OK…sorry”
“Stay here.”
He walks back to his car. Maybe he’s going to let me go. He was smiling a lot so I figured I was maybe off the hook. After 10 minutes or so, he walks back.
“OK, I got you going 80 in a 65 so I’m gonna get ya for that. It was also a work zone with workers present…bummer. I’m going to give you a warning for not yielding immeditley. There was no reason to pull over to this gas station. No reason ok? I was ready to engage in pursuit. Now, the next 20 miles are lined with troopers so don’t get another ticket. You kids need to slow down! Have a good one.” He walks away feeling great having belittled me. I drive off and go the speed limit the rest of the way with a speeding ticket in tow.
Did I mention that the song I was listening to right when I got pulled over was “Instant Karma” by John Lennon?
Karma Schmarma.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Falling
I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately listening to MGMT, John Lennon, and CocoRosie. I’ve also made an endeavor to find old classmates from elementary and middle school. Is that creepy? I don’t think so but whatever.
I added an old buddy of mine the other day and did quite a bit of catching up; we’ll call him “Sebastian”. Sebastian did a lot of funny things like running in front of me and then falling down. He did it on purpose of course; but there was just something satisfying about watching him fall.
Pass judgment on me if you must, but I cannot stop laughing when I see someone fall down. I know how bad of a person that makes me seem, but think about their facial expression at the EXACT moment they realize they are going to fall into a soft pile of steaming mud that has just hit the cold winter ground.
One time I was watching my friend play Dorothy in a production of “The Wizard of Oz”. It was a small little theater located on the outskirts of Houston. I had scored first row tickets on opening night and I was pumped. As the house manager did her speech about cell phones and other gadgets, the lights started to fade as she walked off. Suddenly, a woman came bolting from the entrance to try and grab the seat next to me before the show started.
What ended up happening was a sight that I will never forget. It seriously happened in slow motion. I felt like I was watching ESPN.
She must have lost her footing because this woman completely ATE the yellow brick road. I could not stop laughing. It was so embarrassing for me because I can usually control that stuff. There must have been some kind of touch device installed because as her face was planted onto one of the bricks, it lit up bright yellow. It was basically mocking her and using her as an example for late arrivals. The yellow brick road was practically shouting, “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO SIT DOWN AFTER THE DOORS FROM THE LOBBY HAVE BEEN SHUT”.
Now, I’m not a doctor or anything, but the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean it was epic in the sense that her face morphed into this mass of “oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-so-embarrassing”. If you don’t know what kind of face this is, just ask around to track me down and I’ll do the face for you. She actually looked like she was faking. She was, after all, on a stage. And whenever someone gets on a stage, something takes over their body and they begin to perform.
Well, the lights come up and there is Sir Falls-a-Lot. Pardon me; Dame Falls-a-Lot. I automatically recognize there’s a problem because she keeps saying, “OW!!!” Again, not a doctor, but this doesn’t sound good. The actors on stage stop and look at each other. Improv! Come on, people!
Finally after like, 12 minutes, she stands to her feet and waves at us? Then the entire audience minus me starts clapping for her. This isn’t a football game people; she’s not walking off the field, she’s walking to the lobby. Then people start looking at me because I am not clapping. I get this look a lot in other situations. It usually occurs when I speak in my classes.
The show restarts and they put on a fantastic production. I go up to my friend afterwards and tell her how awesome she did. I then start to tell her about this massive pwnage that happened at the start of the show. I describe it in step-by-step detail, not missing one beat. My friend starts to look upset. I don’t really notice and just keep going.
Turns out that was her aunt. And she was taken to the hospital. And I felt like a terrible person.
But the yellow brick road was so awesome when it lit up her face.
I added an old buddy of mine the other day and did quite a bit of catching up; we’ll call him “Sebastian”. Sebastian did a lot of funny things like running in front of me and then falling down. He did it on purpose of course; but there was just something satisfying about watching him fall.
Pass judgment on me if you must, but I cannot stop laughing when I see someone fall down. I know how bad of a person that makes me seem, but think about their facial expression at the EXACT moment they realize they are going to fall into a soft pile of steaming mud that has just hit the cold winter ground.
One time I was watching my friend play Dorothy in a production of “The Wizard of Oz”. It was a small little theater located on the outskirts of Houston. I had scored first row tickets on opening night and I was pumped. As the house manager did her speech about cell phones and other gadgets, the lights started to fade as she walked off. Suddenly, a woman came bolting from the entrance to try and grab the seat next to me before the show started.
What ended up happening was a sight that I will never forget. It seriously happened in slow motion. I felt like I was watching ESPN.
She must have lost her footing because this woman completely ATE the yellow brick road. I could not stop laughing. It was so embarrassing for me because I can usually control that stuff. There must have been some kind of touch device installed because as her face was planted onto one of the bricks, it lit up bright yellow. It was basically mocking her and using her as an example for late arrivals. The yellow brick road was practically shouting, “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO SIT DOWN AFTER THE DOORS FROM THE LOBBY HAVE BEEN SHUT”.
Now, I’m not a doctor or anything, but the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean it was epic in the sense that her face morphed into this mass of “oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-so-embarrassing”. If you don’t know what kind of face this is, just ask around to track me down and I’ll do the face for you. She actually looked like she was faking. She was, after all, on a stage. And whenever someone gets on a stage, something takes over their body and they begin to perform.
Well, the lights come up and there is Sir Falls-a-Lot. Pardon me; Dame Falls-a-Lot. I automatically recognize there’s a problem because she keeps saying, “OW!!!” Again, not a doctor, but this doesn’t sound good. The actors on stage stop and look at each other. Improv! Come on, people!
Finally after like, 12 minutes, she stands to her feet and waves at us? Then the entire audience minus me starts clapping for her. This isn’t a football game people; she’s not walking off the field, she’s walking to the lobby. Then people start looking at me because I am not clapping. I get this look a lot in other situations. It usually occurs when I speak in my classes.
The show restarts and they put on a fantastic production. I go up to my friend afterwards and tell her how awesome she did. I then start to tell her about this massive pwnage that happened at the start of the show. I describe it in step-by-step detail, not missing one beat. My friend starts to look upset. I don’t really notice and just keep going.
Turns out that was her aunt. And she was taken to the hospital. And I felt like a terrible person.
But the yellow brick road was so awesome when it lit up her face.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
STOP! PUT DOWN THE PHONE!
I think after 1 a.m., phones should be programmed to not be able to call any person you may have dated in the past. I'm supporting proposition 32, which puts a block on all calls to ex's.
Some of you may know what I'm talking about; others might be luckier. I'll put it in two different ways for both of these demographics.
Your MacBook reads 1:57 a.m. It's almost laughing at you. You have so much homework, but you are so tired. You start to doze when all of a sudden, a song comes on your iTunes. "Wow", you say to yourself, "I haven't heard this song in forever!"
Then suddenly, all these feelings come rushing back to you. You see, someone thought it would be a great idea to pick out a song for you guys to listen to together. And someone said that I was the only one who meant something to her and that I was special and cute. And then that certain someone decided to start going out with the second string running back of your high school football team.
"He doesn't even play any football, Amber! What do you see in him? I'm the one you want! I hate you! I'm sorry! Please come back to me!"
So you guys will go to college together and he'll never play football again. You both graduate and he will start his own insurance agency and become very successful. So successful in fact that you will never have to work a day in your life. That journalism degree was really worth it, wasn't it?
But I'm not bitter…
Why do songs evoke certain emotions within us? Every time Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye is played, everyone stands up and moves around dancing, or tries to hit those high notes. You know Todd, whenever you sing it like that it sounds ten times better than Marvin Gaye could ever sing it. Will you just sing louder so I don't have to hear Marvin Gaye anymore?
Every time the Shins play, I feel like I should quit my job and live in Alaska. When Nirvana is played, I feel like I'm somewhat involved in Kurt Cobain's demise. After all, I bought their albums and made him famous and in turn made him crumble. What about Lil' Wayne? I dance. A lot.
Whenever I am driving my car, and people are in it, I feel like I am always having to entertain them with my music. I'll choose a song, and I'll hear silence. If I hear singing, I know I picked the right one. Apparently, I have a disorder where I can't finish an entire song; I have to change it before it ends.
It's not a disorder really, I just feel like my music isn't adequate. Sometimes I don't want people flipping through my iPod. I would be so embarrassed to find out that all my friends are giggling at me because I have a Peter Frampton song or NSYNC's No Strings Attached album. It's not my fault I like them.
So the next time you're driving around with people in the car, put on a universal song that everyone likes. Like Maroon 5. Vveryone likes Maroon 5. Or tomorrow night when you are working on a paper and you hear that song that you and your high school sweetheart picked out in 11th grade, put your phone down. Don't call that person; they aren't thinking about you. Trust me. It's pointless. Because that person has probably already moved on, and sure as sugar isn't thinking about you while she's watching a movie with a guy who owns a skateboard and played in a band in high school.
P.S. Amber, if you're reading this, please call me back.
Some of you may know what I'm talking about; others might be luckier. I'll put it in two different ways for both of these demographics.
Your MacBook reads 1:57 a.m. It's almost laughing at you. You have so much homework, but you are so tired. You start to doze when all of a sudden, a song comes on your iTunes. "Wow", you say to yourself, "I haven't heard this song in forever!"
Then suddenly, all these feelings come rushing back to you. You see, someone thought it would be a great idea to pick out a song for you guys to listen to together. And someone said that I was the only one who meant something to her and that I was special and cute. And then that certain someone decided to start going out with the second string running back of your high school football team.
"He doesn't even play any football, Amber! What do you see in him? I'm the one you want! I hate you! I'm sorry! Please come back to me!"
So you guys will go to college together and he'll never play football again. You both graduate and he will start his own insurance agency and become very successful. So successful in fact that you will never have to work a day in your life. That journalism degree was really worth it, wasn't it?
But I'm not bitter…
Why do songs evoke certain emotions within us? Every time Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye is played, everyone stands up and moves around dancing, or tries to hit those high notes. You know Todd, whenever you sing it like that it sounds ten times better than Marvin Gaye could ever sing it. Will you just sing louder so I don't have to hear Marvin Gaye anymore?
Every time the Shins play, I feel like I should quit my job and live in Alaska. When Nirvana is played, I feel like I'm somewhat involved in Kurt Cobain's demise. After all, I bought their albums and made him famous and in turn made him crumble. What about Lil' Wayne? I dance. A lot.
Whenever I am driving my car, and people are in it, I feel like I am always having to entertain them with my music. I'll choose a song, and I'll hear silence. If I hear singing, I know I picked the right one. Apparently, I have a disorder where I can't finish an entire song; I have to change it before it ends.
It's not a disorder really, I just feel like my music isn't adequate. Sometimes I don't want people flipping through my iPod. I would be so embarrassed to find out that all my friends are giggling at me because I have a Peter Frampton song or NSYNC's No Strings Attached album. It's not my fault I like them.
So the next time you're driving around with people in the car, put on a universal song that everyone likes. Like Maroon 5. Vveryone likes Maroon 5. Or tomorrow night when you are working on a paper and you hear that song that you and your high school sweetheart picked out in 11th grade, put your phone down. Don't call that person; they aren't thinking about you. Trust me. It's pointless. Because that person has probably already moved on, and sure as sugar isn't thinking about you while she's watching a movie with a guy who owns a skateboard and played in a band in high school.
P.S. Amber, if you're reading this, please call me back.
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