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Thursday, May 12, 2005

Gaping Slack Science

I went to the Cubs game on Tuesday night. Due to finger pointing and emergency cleanups at work, I didn't leave until well after six for a game at seven.

Every time I go to Wrigley I park at the K-Mart at Addison and I-90. First, they don't tow. Second, public restrooms. Third, Little Caesars Pizza. The bubblegum of pizza. I buy them before and after games, five bucks for a medium pepperoni. So I park there and take the 152 bus east down Addison, 25 blocks to Wrigley.



I arrived in the middle of the 4th inning and trudged up the concrete rampways to my upper deck seat in 512. Far below Greg Maddux struck out batters, 10 over the course of the game. On TV his movements look slow and deliberate. In person, from far above, he waddles like a duckling. Good old Gweggie. The Cubs won 7-0.



I decided to walk back to my car instead of taking the bus. Twenty-five blocks is no big deal. I love walking. Today was different. I'd worn an old pair of jeans that had a hole worn inside the thigh. After ten blocks it was meshing with hairs from my legs and tugging them, little by little, right off me. Ouch.

Then the edge of the hole began kneading my skin, removing my epidermis cell by cell, past the dead outside layers to the pinkish breathing inside layers. I kept pulling my boxer shorts down to cover the hole and protect my leg, but after a few strides they'd ride back up, leaving me exposed and prone to slow damage.

The walk was escalating torture. I kept glancing furtively about, and satisfied that no one was watching, I'd furiously shove my hands down my pants past my crotch to tug the ends of my boxers. I quickly got frustrated with the desperate need to adjust myself so frequently. After each repositioning, I'd try to walk without allowing my damaged clothing to resettle in an uncomfortable position. This resulted in me walking a Korean army march, pausing once every block to attack myself.

I was embarrassed a little bit, but I'd never see any of these people again, so what the hell, right? Eventually I gave up and stopped walking. I waited for the bus.

Finally I reached my car, hopped in, and decided the pants deserved immediate retirement. I unzipped and shimmied and shucked, and off they came. I tossed my shoes into the passenger seat and my pants out the window. I drove over them as I left.

I was hungry, so I stopped at the White Castle at Harlem and Belmont before retiring for the evening. I pulled in past the young Polish crowd loitering in the parking lot. They stood aside their Japanese motorcycles, laughing loudly, wearing Adidas and spiked hair. They flirted with Polish girls with hoop earrings, ponytails, and burned skin from too long in the tanning salon.



I ordered my fish nuggets in the drive-thru and pulled around. As I waited for my food, my car died. I tried to start it. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

Would I be forced to push my car out of the drive through, past the young Poles, and into a parking spot? While wearing my underpants? It was bad enough to walk through Lakeview hopping and itching like I had a nasty case of pubic lice. Now I would have to push my car through a White Castle Parking lot without any pants? Was this a bad dream?

One last try. The car started. Oh happy day.
10:45 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

14 Comments:

May 12, 2005 11:05 AM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

Ha! I always carry a spare pair of pants in my trunk along with jumper cables and road flares for just that reason...

 
May 12, 2005 12:08 PM, Blogger Other Brother said...

White Castle burgers make me shit like a duck.
Man, you guys really screwed the pooch by trading Sosa.
Boston had the Curse of the Bambino.
Chicago has the Curse of the Latino.
Astros, man. This is the year we win it all!

 
May 12, 2005 12:09 PM, Blogger Stace said...

hahahahahaha, YOU KILL ME!!!! Sounds like you should shave that "area" making sure it doesn't happen in the future.

 
May 12, 2005 1:29 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Darrel, I'm sorry but without Carlos Beltran you guys are sitting ducks.

The 'stros need him more than the Cubs need Sosa.

Your missing Kent is as bad as my missing Garciaparra, so that breaks even.

Clemens and Oswalt can't win with 1 run of support per game.

Good luck, though.

 
May 12, 2005 2:36 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Damn car. Why did it have to start? This post could have been SO much better...

Go Cubs. Astros suck, although not as much as the Yankees.

 
May 12, 2005 2:56 PM, Blogger EcamirG said...

as a fellow astros fan, other brother, i have to say... we suck this year, man. the team motto seems to have become, "we're just not old enough yet. know who we need? john franco!"

lord.

and burnitz is a better right fielder than sosa, any day of the week.

now on to the real issue: little ceasers' 'hot and ready' deal is the greatest thing in the history of mankind ever.

 
May 12, 2005 3:55 PM, Blogger Lance Manion said...

Man, nothing sucks worse than pants failure.

I can't believe in a city with Gino's east you would even think of getting Little Ceasar's, but to each his own.

LM

 
May 12, 2005 3:59 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Gino's, home of the sausage patty that covers the whole pizza?

Yeah, they're good. I work 100 yards from a Lou Malnati's, so I get all the fancypants pizza I need.

Little C's isn't even in the same category as Chicago deep dish. It's like comparing meatloaf to steak. I love steak, but meatloaf really hits the spot sometimes.

Know what I mean?

 
May 12, 2005 4:25 PM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

Dammit, that's someone else I know who got to go to the damn game! All of my gay buddies were going, and they had a spare ticket, so who do they ask? My husband, not me. (Don't worry, there is no concern of romantic competition.) I spent that night cleaning the damn apartment, working out, and catching up on job-related crap til like 2 in the morning. Meh.

 
May 12, 2005 5:20 PM, Blogger Mister Jinxy said...

"I like White Castle 'cause it's the best."

- Beastie Boys

 
May 12, 2005 6:17 PM, Blogger You've Got What I Need... said...

Once again you educate me. I didn't even know that this was a possibility. Wow. All that aside, I think it's rather endearing that you ran over your pants like that. It's a suitable burial for a Viking's faulty armour.

The pac northwest IS hot right now. Go figure? Like we ever thought anyone could recognize how enviable our rain drenched melencholy is... well, south of Seattle that is. We all know what whiny bitches they are. [Northwest Humor for you].

 
May 12, 2005 8:34 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Ah, WC's Sliders. They slide in. They slide back out.

 
May 13, 2005 8:29 AM, Blogger Wardo said...

The first thing I thought when I saw the marquee was, "hey, batta-batta-batta-batta-batta, saWING, batta."

I keep hearing about this White Castle place, but this viral franchise has yet to infect Canada. Is it good or bad? I do like a tasty burger. But my girlfriend is a vegetarian, so that kind of makes me a vegetarian, if you know what I mean.

I woulda kept the pants anyway. I'd punish them by backing over them, but keep them anyway. I feel bad for them, lying in the dirt with all the Poles...undoubtedly after years of reliable service...

-A

 
May 15, 2005 9:51 AM, Blogger kid_with_the___chemicals said...

o0o0o0o shit, that's some crazy stuff. Very amusing though, might i add.
Might wanna keep a spare pair of jeans in your trunk, mm?
I really enjoy your blog. This comment may seem weird. It's early in the morning. -shrug-
.stephanie

 

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