The things I do for love…
Love of my God, love of my family, love of my church, love of my friends, and the love of my food. I’d say I’m joking about that last part, but I once took an hour ride for a Cinnabon.
First, let me start out by saying that today is the first day of the fast my church is on. A twelve hour fast for twelve days. We did something like this last year too. And interesting things happen during these fasts.
With today being King Day (which has it’s own special history for me now), not only was I home, but due to it being a federal holiday, I didn’t have any work to do. And I was okay with that. I stayed in my room, watching movies and wasting time on the Internets. I had plans to watch HIMYM. But then I got a call…
My mother hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and she’s normally my dad’s right hand man. A regular his girl Friday, if you get that reference. But I would be second in command, and my role in the family is the go-for. One thing I hate doing: driving the church van. But if they need me to do it, I’ll do it. And I’ve done it a few times already. But due to my mother feeling ill, she called me in to take the van to the church in place of my dad’s car. They had more people at church than they expected and needed a larger vehicle to get them all home.
I gave a sigh and put on my coat. I checked my phone to see how cold it was outside: 12°. Yikes. Actually, I didn’t say that until I got outside. But then I went to start up the van. Not even the click click click of the ignition. Dead. Great.
My first thoughts were, maybe I can get out of this? But then I said, no… that wouldn’t be right. So I first informed my mother, and she informed my father, and I went to work doing what my father taught me: the jumper cables.
I have a healthy fear of jumper cables. It’s more of a respect than actual fear. My dad has some rusty cables that once hooked up to the live battery, he’ll bang the other side together which would make sparks fly. I was never sure why he did it then, but it always made me cautious… hey, these are live wires here! That and the fear of accidentally making a battery explode let alone getting myself electrocuted.
But I swallowed that nervousness and went to work. Fortunately, my dad parked the van with the engine facing in. I always park my car so I can easily drive out. I was also parked in the garage where there used to be a cat… but that’s another story. I pulled up a few feet to meet the van and began the hook ups… ever so carefully… not to let any… of… the… clamps… touch.
After a good 5 minutes of worrying, which I later learned wasn’t needed, I hooked up the van. The total time was about 15 – 20 minutes until the van got a steady enough charge to run on it’s own. I brought it to the church and came back home with apple juice (again, another story).
I told you that long story just to tell you what these pictures are all about.
This is the first face I made...
I was feeling a bit more creative here...
I was going for something else but kinda screwed up. Now it looks like commas and a parenthesis
This guy said something that resulted in him getting slapped.
By the time I finished “Slappy” (the last one) the van was ready to go. I told my mom how cold I was and she asked me why I didn’t just sit in my own car since it was running.
Sometimes I miss the obvious. Anyway, mission accomplished.
And thanks to the Internet, ideas are shared faster than ever. So people are making their own short films and playing them on YouTube instead of waiting around for film festivals (which are still going strong). And by no means is this a problem. I’m a little ashamed at myself for not already being on board… but in due time. These people may very well have original ideas that may, in fact, be completely unheard of. And that’s awesome. It’s even better when someone who has a louder voice, or more money, comes along to amplify that original idea. District 9 anyone? The idea of aliens coming to Earth is nothing new. But aliens being shipwrecked and discriminated against? Okay, I don’t know if it’s original, but it’s new to me. But in documentary form? My booty was firmly planted in the seat. Actually, it had been planted long before it was released, but that’s besides the point. An old idea presented in a new or unique way is the point here.
And that’s a method I plan to take. But that’s for the stories I know people sorta know already. Like romantic comedies, for example. There is a formula to it. I don’t want to get into what that is, but if you’ve seen one or two, you’ve seen most of them. Normally, the guy gets the girl despite a bunch of rough patches and wrong turns, whatever or whoever that may be. I do like rom-coms. I have quite a few in my head I’d like to write. I’ll bet a lot of the popular ones were based on real life events, like (500) Days of Summer. Which to me, by the way, also felt like an original story. Or at least told in an original and unique way.
Another idea I have is telling stories about the ancient past. Is it just me, or is history a gold mind for original stories? I’m sitting on story now I can’t wait to map out thanks to countless hours of watching the History Channel. And no, I’m not telling you. Hahah… But knowing history can be a great source for inspiration. Whether you research a documented real life hero or make up your own that could’ve lived in the time of your choosing, that’s up to you. But I don’t think you can ever go wrong sitting around listening to friends and family talk about life and drawing inspiration from them… unless they are a bit senile and it’s really an episode of Monk they thought happened to them. But hey… sounds a bit like how Bubba Ho-tep may have been conceived. Either way, that’s a movie unlike 
But on this fantastic afternoon, I’m going to say it was an evil crumb from a phantom cake that must’ve fallen on and into the keypad. Specially, the #1 button. If it wasn’t that, perhaps some menacing angry coffee drop from a hastily placed mug fresh from being brewed and painfully sipped (due to the freshly brewed part). Or maybe it was just a ghost. I don’t know, but while dialing a certain New York area code, I somehow managed to dial 1-9-1-1. I may have dialed a few more numbers after that, but as we all know, I “Mozart” the keypad, so it’s difficult to say. I quickly hung up, and began redial. 3.8 nanoseconds later, in the midst of the other call I had just dialed, I see an incoming call with “YOURCITY’S PD!” on the called ID. I’m quite unclear as to whom this is, or why, not even considering the accidental blunder I made. I didn’t even know this caller ID was able to produce exclamation points (!). Since no one had picked up the line I was calling, I quickly jumped over to the new call.
The baseball cop asked me what happened as he took out his notepad. I explained it was all an accidental misdial and he understood. He then showed me the picture he drew of a little piggy. The banshee cop returned, said everything was alright, and went back into his car that was still on fire and drove away. The other cop asked me if I was a Yankee or Red Sox fan. I told him I like New York, hoping it was the right answer, and he proceeded to tell me how the game was going, as if I had actually cared to begin with. I don’t think he cared about my response either way, as he turned and walked back to his car, exclaiming that he was missing the game.
ladies came in to whisk me away to another room with a scale and a lone chair that reminded me of lethal injections… but the condemned lie down to get those. This room was a bit more spacious but still had boring pictures on the wall. I think it was supposed to be a fence, or fence posts in a fog on a field by a beach or something. I wondered if this was supposed to be soothing while people got their shots or lose copious amounts of blood. I normally don’t have a problem with needles, but these women kept up on the anticipation like the day after a good TV show has a season finale or the last hour of work before a long weekend.
I learned how to brace myself with the initial stabbing. It’s not so bad because it only lasts less than a second. I usually think of marshmallows thanks to yet another previous needle experience when everything reminded me of sharp pointy objects until a doctor said, “How about Marshmallows?” “Marshmallows?” I repeated. Stab. Anyway, I never had blood drawn before. I didn’t know how that would feel. What I also didn’t know was how many vials of my blood they were going to take. For what they needed, they filled up about three tubes. After looking at them, I wondered… don’t I need that? And do you really need that much and that many tubes? But whatever, it’s gone now. They have done their damage. I can go home. And I was released.
can cause stones too, and I thought “That was it! I had spinach that fateful night! Granted, it was only a teaspoon because I generally don’t care for the stuff, but that’s what might’ve triggered the event. The dooming straw that broke my kidney’s camel’s back!” Everyone shunned me for that revelation and we collectively agreed it was probably due to all the dairy I consume and lack of hydration.
Due to having to wait a week or longer, when death seemed like it would arrive before scheduled medical help, I decided to take a chance with a walk-in clinic. I had only been to one once before a couple years prior during a similar incident. However, I didn’t stay because once I saw how many people were in line waiting for who knows what, I left. Fortunately, that brief episode left shortly after too and I was never concerned about it.
that go on. The nurse came in first. Being as tense as I was, I told my life story. She was a cute nurse too, but in these urgent matters, there was no time for flirting and joking. Besides, I could be dying, why would she want to talk to me? Even if I wasn’t, what’s so attractive about a dude who is bleeding where he shouldn’t? This is not the ideal male to mate with. The other thing I was concerned about was disrobing. I had clean underwear on and everything… but if anything, I hoped they would close the blinds to the window I had been staring out of, watching other people walking in and out of the rain that may or may not have looked at me looking at them. We were on the 1st floor! But I was safe, there would be no disrobing. Not in that room anyway. She took my vitals and then asked me to pee in a cup in the bathroom. Easy enough. So far.
