Because the world is small and I never end up knowing who’s going to cross my path, I had the pleasure of talking to a college crush of mine for a story today. He was a rather short-lived crush, at least by my standards (from, like, January to shortly after school let out for the summer), but he was definitely one of the more fun ones—tall, gangly, goofy-looking and a bit younger than me; he was 18 or 19 to my 21? no 22, I would’ve been 22 when we hooked up. He was also the author of one of, if not the only, cartoons we ran in our college rag that wasn’t syndicated, so he ended up spending a crapload of time in the newspaper office with the rest of us misfits. Anyway, my favorite memory* of Slick, as we used to call him, involved the wonder wagon, a fifth of Rumplemintz and a tattoo.
Yeah, I know that has the classic markings of drrrrrrrty, but it wasn’t salacious at all. Seriously.
It was a Wednesday, and Slick, me and another doofus we used to hang out with took off for lunch. We were in my car—the illustrious 1985 Ford Escort Wagon I totalled three different times between 1988 and 1993—and I seem to recall that I was letting Doof do the driving for some reason, or maybe he was driving on the way back because I’d had a few beers at lunch ... Anyway, at some point on the way back, I pointed out to the two of them that I had an unopened bottle of Rumple left over from the Indiana College Press Association weekend from which the paper staff had just returned, and they were all “Sweeeeeeeeet,” so we cracked it open and started swigging.
(I should mention here that this was during the semester I almost drank myself out of college forealz, so that there was an unopened bottle of anything alcoholic in my car is a miracle, especially since ICPA was basically a giant hotel party for college newspaper nerds and my room had the hospitality tub. I didn’t even drink that weekend at all, probably because I was away from home and thus away from my “stress.” Whatever that was at the time.)
So we get back to campus, and Slick decides he needs to have his tat re-inked. I, needing very little in the way of excuses to ditch class, decided I was going to go with because I’d never seen a tat done before, but Doof had Calc or something that he just couldn’t miss (which I wasn’t the least bit upset about because, hello! Crush!). It was just me and Slick and a bottle of Rumple, of which he maybe drank the equivalent of the bottle neck while I pounded the rest. In about an hour. And I lived to tell the tale, without throwing it back up or anything. I remember being in the tat shop and watching the artist hit his tat with purple, of all colors, and going, “Wow. If I weren’t so drunk, I’d be completely freaked out by that.” I also remember stopping at the corner of Ridge and Wisconsin in Hobart and calling the newspaper office from the payphone while Slick threw some gas in the Wonder Wagon’s almost-empty tank. We just drove around all afternoon, talking and laughing about whatever. Of course, when we got back to campus, everyone knew what we were doing because I smelled like a giant candy cane (Tara can attest to this). And then I went out to Wad’s Wonder Wagon and started crying hysterically about something, and I sobered up. The end.
Slick’s a commercial painter now who focuses on high-end remodeling jobs, happily married with three or four daughters. Good for him.
Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The Slickster

It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.
100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.
Give it to me, baby.
Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...
The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.
Give it to me, baby.
Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...
The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:


/> Wanna make a bunch of money doing what you're doing right now?
Hey Webmasters! - Make $$$
The AllPosters.com Affiliates Program is a great way to make money with your website. All you have to do is place links on your site to AllPosters.com. When your site visitors click on your links and make purchases at AllPosters.com, you earn 25%-30% of the sale. Sign up today!


Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].
Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving? The frigging church. My church and my mom’s… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know. I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].
Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment! I have… ...[go].

- June 2013
- October 2012
- June 2012
- April 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- August 2010
- May 2010
- March 2010
- January 2010
- September 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
- October 2005
- September 2005
- August 2005
- July 2005
- June 2005
- May 2005
- April 2005
- March 2005
- February 2005
- January 2005
- December 2004
- November 2004
- October 2004
- September 2004
- August 2004
- July 2004
- June 2004
- May 2004
- April 2004
- March 2004
- February 2004



powered by
EE Core
script assistance by
scriptygoddess
hosted by
wiredhub
This explains that large bit of type at the top.
Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

<< chicago blogs >>


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
online
EE Core
script assistance by
scriptygoddess
hosted by
wiredhub
This explains that large bit of type at the top.
Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

<< chicago blogs >>


This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

online