Friday September 11, 2009

I'm not normally patriotic... but I do feel that if I don't take a second to realize today's date and it's significance, karma will come and bite me in the ass sooner or later. So here's my moment of remembrance...

...alright, good.

Have the day off today, so I woke up around noon. These past two weeks have really kicked my ass, so I haven't been getting the ideal amount of sleep. This is actually the first time I have truly slept in over the last two weeks. Sad, I know. I get up, piss, feed the kids, and shower. I feel pretty damn good this morning, so I contemplate cooking up a triumphant bastard of a breakfast. Of course once I'm out of the shower, that idea goes to shit quicker than the time it took to think it up.

I cruise into my room, throw on a pair of shorts and air dry at my computer while I check e-mail and pay bills. I'm trying to pay my bills as soon as I get paid now, as to avoid spending money that is in my account, but technically belongs to someone else. Now, I pay all my bills the second I get paid, and then whatever I'm leftover with is my spending money. Unfortunately, this week's check was considerably less than my normal checks, thus leaving me with a mere $150 in spending cash after the smoke all clears from my bills. Fuck my life. I now have $150 to last me for two more fuckin' weeks.

After the elusive task of pissing my money away in just one short hour, I shoot a call over to my mom to confirm plans for my visit to their place later this evening. The Beatles tribute band, American English, is playing a free show in Peoria, where my parents reside, so I'm going to catch that with them and Lori tonight. Good times. I tell her I have to run a few errands before I go, but plan on being on the road no later than 3:00. She says she'll be home, so everything's set. I throw on some clothes, put in my contacts, rock a cup of coffee, and am out the door.

First stop is the bank so I can cash in all of my loose change that has been collected over the last month or so. I bomb inside and the greeter at the door immediately takes my container of change in the back to count while I wait in line. This kind of throws me off because over the years I have grown used to the bank being very sketchy when it comes to cashing in change. I assume they look at it as an insanely tedious task, hence why about 6 out of 10 times I come in, they tell me the change machine is broken. I always get the feeling they're full of shit, but I also understand, as there are many things at my job that I tell people I can't do, just because I don't feel like it. Again... karma is a bitch.

I jump in line and wait for the next available cashier while homeboy rocks my tin of change in the back, which is so fuckin' loud that it shatters every decibel of silence in the place. Everyone kind of looks around to try and spot "that ass hole" responsible for causing such a fuckin' commotion. I join in on the, "where is the prick?" charades and almost get away with it, until the bastard walks over to me and yells that I have a little over $100 in change. Now everyone knows it's me responsible for the ear-piercing extravaganza, and I look like an even bigger jackass for pretending it wasn't me. But, what can ya do?

I get my cash and bomb out of the bank. Next stop is Best Buy to pick up a new cord that will plug my Zune into my car radio. I made the cheap bastard's mistake of buying the $3 cord initially, and it's gotten to the point that it is shorting out if I so much as make a slight turn. So unless I'm driving in a straight line until I reach my destination, my music cuts in and out, which does not fly with a musically anal-retentive bastard, such as myself.

Instead of Best Buy, I end up making a stop at Target. It was on the way and I'm sure they have just as much to offer in the way of car radio cords, most likely for less money. I walk inside and hit up the mp3 player aisle. I find a cord that meets my needs and it's actually pretty legit, i.e. it looks like it will last more than three months. While I'm there, I start checking out the clock radio docks for my Zune. I figure I've got this $100 bonus in my wallet, might as well spend it on something useful before it becomes a beer and food deposit on general principle. While searching for one that docks a Zune, it hits me. Everything on God's green fuckin' earth is made for a fuckin' iPod. Apple has their hands in everything, and it's starting to really piss me off. I search and search and manage to find one cheap ass set of portable speakers that work as a Zune dock, sans the alarm clock... which is primarily what I need. Of course, there's about thirty different selections of iPod docks, all different shapes, sizes, colors. Fuckin' Apple. Unless you go Apple these days, there's going to be nothing for you. And people give Bill Gates shit for trying to control the fucking world. I'm pretty sure Apple is proceeding Bill's accomplishments.

Pissed off because there's nothing for me, as I'm not a consumerist puppet, I grab my cord, pay, and walk the fuck out. I get in my car and connect my Zune to my new fancy cord and pretty much tear the old one into pieces for all the trouble it has given me in the last month. I throw it out the window, spit on it, and gun it home... pouting and cursing Apple the whole five minute drive.

I get back home and cruise into my room to do a light packing for the night. I throw together my sleeping shorts and a change of clothes for tomorrow, as well as my toothbrush, contact kit, and glasses. It's going on 2:30, so I wanna get on the road ASAP. I then remember I wanted to burn a handful of CD's for Lori that I have been meaning to burn the last two times I visited. Vowing that I wasn't going to put it off for another trip, I start to go to work. I make her copies of two 311 CD's ("Soundsystem", a personal favorite, and "Uplifter", the new album), and two Elliott Smith CD's ("Either/Or" and "Figure 8"). By the time these are done, it's about 3:15. I grab my bag and gun it out the door. It's Friday, so the last thing I want to hit is rush hour traffic.

I get on the road at about 3:30. I didn't want to waste any more time stopping for gas, so I'm just hoping I have enough to get me about 45-minutes south of home so I can beat the traffic and then stop for gas. I just BARELY make it. I stop off in Coal City just as I'm about running on fumes. I fill the bastard up, take a leak, and venture off back on the highway.

I make it to my parents' place in about 2 hours flat, making only two pit-stops on the way. One for the gas and the other, a trip to Burger King. Lori has some school stuff to finish up, so I head over to parents' place to wait for her call. I get there and no one is even home. My Dad is working and my Mom went with Rebecca to change cell phones or some shit. I'm glad everyone is home for my arrival. I walk in the house and say hello to my ol' puppies. I'm amazed at how much they still remember (and love) me, even though it's been almost 4 years since they moved out with my parents, and I don't exactly see them everyday. I guess it's true when they say that dog is "man's best friend." Which is why, even with my entertaining cats at home, I will always be a dog lover.

I chill out on the couch for about ten minutes when I get the call from Lori letting me know she's done with her school stuff. I get back in the car and head over to the campus to pick her up. We head back to my parents' place because I'm apparently picking my Mom up to go to the concert. My Dad is going to meet us there from work. The only problem is, there was some confusion at U.S. Cellular, and to make a long story short, my Mom had to bail before everything was finished, leaving her phone with Rebecca at the store. So now my Mom is sans cell phone in an age where cell phones are pretty much our only link to eachother. My Dad calls and assures me that she will be there when we arrive.

Sure enough, we pull up to the house and my Mom is nowhere to be found. I call my Dad and he's just as baffled as I am, but no one can call her. He tells me to just head to the show, as she probably just went straight there. We then do as he says and head out to the park that the show is at.

We park the car and proceed to walk the few blocks to the event. Unfortunately, it's a free show, so everyone and their fuckin' mothers is here and got here much earlier than we did, leaving us with spots in the very back of the park. We meet up with my parents and Rebecca's boyfriend, Kyle. Rebecca had to work and couldn't make the show, so Kyle stood in for her.

Aside from not being able to see shit, the show was fuckin' dope. We all part ways and head to our cars. I tell my parents I'll meet them back home, as I have to bring Lori back to school because she's got a lot to shit to do early the next day. I also suggest that we hit up the casino when I get back. I let the old man ponder the idea for the half hour I'll be gone for. We get in the car and head back to Lori's place. I drop her off and gun it back to the parent's house, rocking out to some 311 on the way, as I'm excited about the potential winning of money.

I get back to their place just around 10:30 and we spend the next hour bullshitting and eating unnecessary amounts of food, as my mother enjoys spoiling the shit out of me when I come to visit. I think she misses being a mother sometimes. With my brother and I in our 20's and living out of town, and Rebecca now 19 and in college, she doesn't have much of an opportunity to be the quintessential "mother" to her three children. So, whenever I visit, I never protest her generosity. My father, however, is still somewhat the same as he always has been. He's always got some project for me to work on every time I come to visit, just like when we all lived together. This particular visit, he wants me to put together a new fireplace he bought for the back patio. That's my pop. He never fails to keep me working for him.

We finally head out to the casino around 11:30, so it's almost midnight by the time we get there. We head in and immediately hit up the quarter slots. The old man and myself man two machines, while my Mom stands behind us showing support and occasionally pulling the lever to see if she possesses the "magic touch." We win some/lose some and opt to head to the second floor to test our luck there. We cruise by the bar to order up some drinks. I get a Jack and Coke while Dad orders himself some Southern Comfort on the rocks. Then it's back to business.

An hour and 3 Jack and Coke's later, I'm down to $2.75 from my initial $15. I'm feeling pretty buzzed at this point and figure the night's just not looking out for us, so I opt to cruise with my $2.75 so I at least can feel like I didn't go completely bust (fuck it, that's 2 double cheeseburgers right there). I cash out and get my voucher with the pathetic dollar amount printed at the bottom in big black shameful ink. We're on our way to the door when I decide to bite the fuckin' bullet and try my luck on the 2 cent machine. I put in my voucher and go to town. First spin, I win $5. Not bad! I spin again... and again... and again. Before I know it, I'm up to about $17. Why the fuck didn't I start at this machine? Soon enough, the Old Man takes a cue and hits up the machine right next to me to see if it pays out for him.

I order up another Jack and Coke and proceed to keep winning, while Dad pretty much keeps getting dangerously closer and closer to going bust. He keeps glaring at my winnings, getting considerably more frustrated every time. Then it happens. I hit big (well, big for me). I get $25, which puts me now at like $37. I suggest that I cash out, as I have now doubled what I started with and then some. What happens next I will never forget, because it was so out of left fuckin' field. My Mother tells me that I should keep playing, as the machine is obviously paying out. My Mother!! Of all people!! The woman who would think twice before gambling even a single dollar away was telling me to be greedy and keep going. Of course I listen because I feel that there must be something convincing my Mom that I am going to win big. And that's when everything starts to go straight to hell.

I all of a sudden start to lose... and lose... and lose. Before I know it, I go bust. I probably would have been a little more let down, but I was half in the fuckin' bag at this point, so it definitely helped soften the blow. The Old Man eventually went bust, as well, after a streak of wins/losses. We finally give up and head out. It's almost 3:00 AM. It's not very often that the parents stay out having a good time till the wee hours of the morning, so this really feels like a special night. Definitely one for the books.

We get back home and I go upstairs and do the nightly routine while my Mom plays Martha Stewart and sets up the guest room for me to crash in. I say goodnight to the parents and proceed to pass out while enjoying some episodes from my Dad's collection of Looney Tunes DVD's. Hands down, one of the greatest times I've ever had with my parents, and possibly one of the greatest nights ever. No bullshit.