My little brother never fails to disappoint in giving us a good story(1). Whether he’s falling out of the bed, jumping an eight-foot privacy fence, or dancing to Wild Horses, he’s entertaining. But he’s really made it hard to top himself the night of the “Chick Car” slash “Michael Phelps is a Great Olympid” night.
Andrea got a call at 4:00 a.m. in the morning from an inebriate LB. He had parked at a friend’s house and she hadn’t been there, so she came into my room to ask me directions. I sleepily grumbled them to her and went back to sleep. This is a recount of what I heard when in the morning:
“So I go to pick Kevin up, and he all comes up to the car and is like, ‘hey, why don’t you follow me home.’ I’m like ‘No. No, Kevin. Get in the car.’ ‘Ok,” he says. So he gets in. I look at the time and I see it is four, so I say, ‘Hey Kevin, if you would’ve waited an hour, we could have fresh Donut Bank donuts(2).’ ‘Well, let’s go, let’s go then,’ Kevin tells me.
“’I’m like no.’ So we’re driving and we pass a car and the car flashes his lights at me cause because I forgot to dim lights. Kevin starts saying ‘What the fuck man! What the fuck! I’ll fucking get out of this car and smoke you! I may be driving a chick car, but I’ll smoke you in your face. You’ll go home and you’re wife’ll say: Oh, what happened to your face? And he’ll all be like: I got smoke by some dude in a chick car!’
“So, I’m all cracking up about this, and then we pull onto the road and Kevin leans over and starts hitting my sun visor. I say, ‘Hey! Stop that!’ And Kevin says ‘Why are you moving my shit,’ And I’m all like ‘Hello! You’re in my car!”
Anyway, the two of them troupe into the house. Kevin goes into my room, finds me fast asleep and proceeds to jump on me and hunch me(3)
I wake up and I hear “I love the Olympiad. This is the greatest Olympiad. Michael Phelps is the greatest Olympid,” he says and starts going on and on. And somehow he gets sidetracked and starts talking about softball and how he’s a softball machine and people in Denmark cannot match his skill. This leads into his story of Kevin Johnson.
“Kevin Johnson is the greatest softball player that ever lived,” he starts saying.. “Kevin Johnson could beat Denmark by himself!” He keeps on about Kevin Johnson. “People in Denmark are scared of Kevin Johnson.”
“Why?” I ask.
He looks at me and then says, “Because he cuts their bushes…he cuts their bushes into penises! At night when the Danish people go to sleep, he cuts their bushes into penises and then the Danish people come out of their homes and get scared because Kevin Johnson is like Mother-fucking Edward Scissorhands. Kevin Scissorhands, I mean Kevin Johnson is fucking amazing. He cuts all them bushes at night.”
“So, he’s like Santa Claus.”
“He’s mother-fucking better than Santa Claus. Santa Claus only visits Christians and good kids, Kevin Claus(4) cuts everyone’s bushes, everyone in the world.
Of course, this gets a good laugh out of my sister and me and then we decide to bundle Kevin into bed. We escort him into his bedroom across the hall, but before we get him into bed, Andrea goes to laptop and plays a song – Wild Horses. For those of you who don’t know or have forgotten, this is the song that Buffalo Bill listens to in Silence of the Lambs. One morning(5) Kevin got up to find Andrea and me watching the movie. If just so happened that it was the scene where Buffalo Bill is dressing in the skin, dancing and asking who’d “fuck me(6).” Kevin comes through and heads on into the kitchen, then turns and begins dancing like B. Bill to that song. Andrea and I dissolved into laughter and often try to get him to reenact that scene. He responds much better to our goading while under the influence and began dancing around saying “Would you fuck me? I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me hard,” and then he mimics(7) the tuck back. Andrea and Ican’t stop laughing and Kevin starts singing along to the song.
This night is best recalled by my sister who I caught on video talking about Kevin Johnson and scissorhands’ ways. Anyway, she relayed the story onto my Aunt and Uncle, Chris and Melody, who love this kind of drunken debauchery.
So, about two months later at my mother’s 50th Birthday party, Chris approaches my brother.
“It’s damndest thing,” he says. “Well,” he says when Kevin asks what, “I woke up one morning awhile back and someone cut all my damn bushes.”
“Yeah,” Kevin asks a smile creeping into his voice.
“Yeah,” Chris says, “And not only that, but someone cut them all into the shape of penises.”
“Really,” asks Kevin and then he bursts out laughing.
So beware of Kevin Johnson and his hedge trimmers. The penis-shaped bushes might belong to you.
1. Especially if he’s intoxicated.
2. The BEST donuts in the WORLD!
3. Nothing incestual here, I am under an extremely thick down comforter.
4. I can only assume he meant Johnson.
5. After drinking.
6. “I’d fuck me.”
7. Pretends to act like he is doing it while not actually doing it.
Friday, October 31, 2008
OH MY GOD, WE'RE GOING TO DIE!
It’s hard to forget those nights when you wake up and automatically know something is wrong. It could be something as simple as wondering if the stove is on or hearing your dog viciously snarl in the middle of night.
The being said, it’s hard to forget being woke up by a 5.8 earthquake during the darkest hours of the morning, especially when you live in the Midwest and an earthquake is as foreign as…well they just don’t happen.
Now, before I describe the extensive shaking, I want you to understand our neighborhood and my room. My room has a nice queen-size bed with a ceiling fan directly above it, two huge bookcases filled with books[1], an armoire that holds my TV and massive Disney snow globes[2], and Madame Alexander Dolls[3]. I have also have a desk complete with hutch that I need to clean off and a nightstand next to my bed.
Now, my neighborhood is less than two miles to the airport[4] and airplanes are routinely seen in the sky. It is also bordered on two sides by train tracks. And let me add that I love when the trains decide to block the tracks whenever I am on my way to work. That is lovely. Fantabulous. Keep up the good work at making me late, CSX!
I’m not exactly sure what caused me to wake up, but I’m going to guess there was a loud booming sound since my first thought was that a plane crashed, followed closely by a train derailing after the shaking continued for a moment, followed close by “Oh my god, it’s an earthquake!” as the house continued to shake and groan in protest.
My mind was clear in a nanosecond and I called for Mac who had made his way over to stand in front of the door[5]. I called to him and patted the bed for him. He jumped up and I cradled him underneath my body as I scanned the room for a suitable place for the both of us to nestle under and pray. The room was completely devoid of any protection. Of course there was always the doorway, but seeing that bookcase caused me to stay put in my bed.
Besides my bed was safely away from all dangerously packed bookshelves. I just had a picture mounted on the wall above my bed and my ceiling fan…OH MY GOD! My Fan! My fan that was turned on at the highest speed[6]! I could so picture the ceiling fan shaking free from the ceiling, falling, the blades slapping me in the head rendering me unconscious or dead. And my dog! I was his only protection! So I held him tighter underneath me[7].
The house continued to shake and creak for an ungodly amount of time. Mac struggled underneath me, and the ceiling fan continued to whir above my head.
It felt like a lifetime had passed once the house finally stopped shaking.
Suddenly seventh-grade science class was flashing in my head. Horrible picture of the New Madrid faultline assaulted my thoughts. For those of you unfamiliar with the New Madrid, it is under the city of Memphis . Back in 1811 it produced an 8.1 quake with aftershocks of 7.0 or greater that continued for three months. It shook so violently that the Mississippi ran backwards, paddleboats sank, and the Liberty Bell housed in Philly even rang.
They say that if the same quake hits us now, it will swallow the city of Memphis , the Mississippi will once again run backwards, and my town, 300 miles north of Memphis will suffer extensive damage.
It was with these thoughts in my head that I ran into a living room in a panic wearing only a robe that I hadn’t thought to tie and a pair of panties to see if my family had gotten out alive. Only, no one else was in the living room, no one else seemed bothered that an earthquake just shook our house like giant was right outside on our street doing a tap dance. It took me a minute to remember where everyone was. Andrea was in Florida with her boyfriend. Mom was in a D.C. on a class trip. Kevin was…home! He had actually stopped by for a weekend.
“Kevin!” I cried and ran into the hall, grabbed his doorknob only find his bedroom door locked! “Kevin!” I began to cry as I beat my fists against his door.
Fifteen seconds later, the door opened to reveal my brother in all his sleepy glory alive and unhurt, but clearly confused.
“Oh my god, we head an earthquake!” I cried and grabbed his arm, began to mumble about the earthquake, pulled him through the house, and out the front door because if the New Madrid was going to shake my house into a pile of rubble, I did not want the two of us in there. I was sure we’d find milling neighbors, but funnily enough, no one was outside.
“Your robe’s open,” my brother said and then averted his eyes. I snatched it closed. “Let’s go back to sleep,” he said and grabbed my hand to pull me into the house.
“But the aftershocks!” I protested.
Kevin hefted me inside. “Let’s turn on the TV.”
Sure enough, coverage began shifting to people calling in to the TV stations to talk about the quake which was felt for about 40 seconds and by people as far away as Chicago .
“I’m going to bed,” Kevin said after about two minutes.
“Ok,” I said and kept my eyes glued to the TV. Like the reporters would really be able to tell me when the next quake was going to begin.
I didn’t think I’d ever get to sleep, but after the same ‘ole coverage, I called Mac and immediately fell asleep in my bed. I awoke in the morning to hear my cell phone ringing and told my mom about the quake. As stated in previous articles, she was sad to miss the drama. However, to feel like she was apart of it, she called my sister and relayed my story to Andrea. Andrea then called me and yelled at me for not calling her[8] and hearing the story from mom. Of course, she could call me just as easily, but that’s neither hear there. Anyway, I lived to fight another day, and with the New Madrid just chillin’ beneath my feet, that’s important.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
q I’m a bibliophile, I admit it.
[2] Collected for appox. 15 years.
[3] Inspired by historical women.
[4] Which makes it really nice if no one can pick you up.
[5] By a bookcase, not exactly an ideal place for a 40-pound dog.
[6] I like to be cold when I sleep.
[7] At least one of us would make it out alive.
[8] Probably because she doesn’t know how to answer her phone when she’s with her boyfriend.
The being said, it’s hard to forget being woke up by a 5.8 earthquake during the darkest hours of the morning, especially when you live in the Midwest and an earthquake is as foreign as…well they just don’t happen.
Now, before I describe the extensive shaking, I want you to understand our neighborhood and my room. My room has a nice queen-size bed with a ceiling fan directly above it, two huge bookcases filled with books[1], an armoire that holds my TV and massive Disney snow globes[2], and Madame Alexander Dolls[3]. I have also have a desk complete with hutch that I need to clean off and a nightstand next to my bed.
Now, my neighborhood is less than two miles to the airport[4] and airplanes are routinely seen in the sky. It is also bordered on two sides by train tracks. And let me add that I love when the trains decide to block the tracks whenever I am on my way to work. That is lovely. Fantabulous. Keep up the good work at making me late, CSX!
I’m not exactly sure what caused me to wake up, but I’m going to guess there was a loud booming sound since my first thought was that a plane crashed, followed closely by a train derailing after the shaking continued for a moment, followed close by “Oh my god, it’s an earthquake!” as the house continued to shake and groan in protest.
My mind was clear in a nanosecond and I called for Mac who had made his way over to stand in front of the door[5]. I called to him and patted the bed for him. He jumped up and I cradled him underneath my body as I scanned the room for a suitable place for the both of us to nestle under and pray. The room was completely devoid of any protection. Of course there was always the doorway, but seeing that bookcase caused me to stay put in my bed.
Besides my bed was safely away from all dangerously packed bookshelves. I just had a picture mounted on the wall above my bed and my ceiling fan…OH MY GOD! My Fan! My fan that was turned on at the highest speed[6]! I could so picture the ceiling fan shaking free from the ceiling, falling, the blades slapping me in the head rendering me unconscious or dead. And my dog! I was his only protection! So I held him tighter underneath me[7].
The house continued to shake and creak for an ungodly amount of time. Mac struggled underneath me, and the ceiling fan continued to whir above my head.
It felt like a lifetime had passed once the house finally stopped shaking.
Suddenly seventh-grade science class was flashing in my head. Horrible picture of the New Madrid faultline assaulted my thoughts. For those of you unfamiliar with the New Madrid, it is under the city of Memphis . Back in 1811 it produced an 8.1 quake with aftershocks of 7.0 or greater that continued for three months. It shook so violently that the Mississippi ran backwards, paddleboats sank, and the Liberty Bell housed in Philly even rang.
They say that if the same quake hits us now, it will swallow the city of Memphis , the Mississippi will once again run backwards, and my town, 300 miles north of Memphis will suffer extensive damage.
It was with these thoughts in my head that I ran into a living room in a panic wearing only a robe that I hadn’t thought to tie and a pair of panties to see if my family had gotten out alive. Only, no one else was in the living room, no one else seemed bothered that an earthquake just shook our house like giant was right outside on our street doing a tap dance. It took me a minute to remember where everyone was. Andrea was in Florida with her boyfriend. Mom was in a D.C. on a class trip. Kevin was…home! He had actually stopped by for a weekend.
“Kevin!” I cried and ran into the hall, grabbed his doorknob only find his bedroom door locked! “Kevin!” I began to cry as I beat my fists against his door.
Fifteen seconds later, the door opened to reveal my brother in all his sleepy glory alive and unhurt, but clearly confused.
“Oh my god, we head an earthquake!” I cried and grabbed his arm, began to mumble about the earthquake, pulled him through the house, and out the front door because if the New Madrid was going to shake my house into a pile of rubble, I did not want the two of us in there. I was sure we’d find milling neighbors, but funnily enough, no one was outside.
“Your robe’s open,” my brother said and then averted his eyes. I snatched it closed. “Let’s go back to sleep,” he said and grabbed my hand to pull me into the house.
“But the aftershocks!” I protested.
Kevin hefted me inside. “Let’s turn on the TV.”
Sure enough, coverage began shifting to people calling in to the TV stations to talk about the quake which was felt for about 40 seconds and by people as far away as Chicago .
“I’m going to bed,” Kevin said after about two minutes.
“Ok,” I said and kept my eyes glued to the TV. Like the reporters would really be able to tell me when the next quake was going to begin.
I didn’t think I’d ever get to sleep, but after the same ‘ole coverage, I called Mac and immediately fell asleep in my bed. I awoke in the morning to hear my cell phone ringing and told my mom about the quake. As stated in previous articles, she was sad to miss the drama. However, to feel like she was apart of it, she called my sister and relayed my story to Andrea. Andrea then called me and yelled at me for not calling her[8] and hearing the story from mom. Of course, she could call me just as easily, but that’s neither hear there. Anyway, I lived to fight another day, and with the New Madrid just chillin’ beneath my feet, that’s important.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
q I’m a bibliophile, I admit it.
[2] Collected for appox. 15 years.
[3] Inspired by historical women.
[4] Which makes it really nice if no one can pick you up.
[5] By a bookcase, not exactly an ideal place for a 40-pound dog.
[6] I like to be cold when I sleep.
[7] At least one of us would make it out alive.
[8] Probably because she doesn’t know how to answer her phone when she’s with her boyfriend.
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