Minty Fresh

I told this story to fett the other day. Hadn't thought of it in years, and now I can't resist sharing it with the rest of you [poor sumbitches].

I'd guess this all took place around the time I was sixteen. I was seeing this girl Courtney, and for the first time, "seeing this girl" actually meant going out on dates instead of that lame "going together" thing kids do at lunch before they can drive.

It was not going well, due largely to my being painfully fucking shy (not to mention a complete dork).

(And I am so fucking not Sheldon, no matter what Blue and my wife say.)

One of my best friends decided to have a little fun with me, so for my birthday, he got me a box of mint-scented condoms. Partly, I guess at that age, it's just exciting to buy condoms. You're barely past the stage where you giggle every time they're mentioned. Mostly, I think, it was to make fun of me, since, being the giant lump of low self esteem you see before you e'en unto this day... they couldn't have been more useless to me.

Now, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth. I decided to get some mileage out of the present anyway. We had another friend, Amy. Amy was smart and funny and crass and vulgar... and basically awesome. I decided it was time to get her involved in the caper.

The three of us were all marching band nerds, so I snuck into the instrument room and opened Amy's trumpet case looking for her flip book... basically, a little flip folder that could be attached to a musical instrument, and which contained all the music we played in the stands during the football games, plus the national anthem and the school's alma mater, which we had to play at the beginning of every home football game.

I popped the flip folder out, flipped through until I found what I was looking for, and booyah... opened up one of the condoms and stretched it across the Star Spangled Banner. Then I packed the folder back up nice and neat to hide my handiwork and went about my business.

That Friday was a home game, so we had to go do all the pregame stuff. We all played trumpet, so it was gong to be easy to see the results. And of course I'd told all my friends what I'd done, so there was a nice big crowd of trumpet players gathered around Amy, jockeying for prime hilarity-viewing real estate, snickering, and generally failing to hide the fact that something was up.

I... haven't really matured much over the years.

We played the school's alma mater.

Then we all flipped to the Star Spangled Banner... and SPLUT. There's the condom across Amy's.

Right there in the end zone, she fishes the condom out of her folder, inflates it, and goes, "Mmm... mint flavored, too!"

The entire trumpet line pretty much dissolved into laughter at that point. Hell, we all damn near fell down right there on the field. So there was no melody at all for the national anthem.

Now, I grew up in a football town. The whole town shuts down at 4pm on football Fridays. So everyone was there.

The band director was livid.

I don't remember what the punishment was, but it was totally worth it.

Best. Shopping. Trip. Ever.

My wife was out of town all last week, so our normal routine's way off. We wound up having to do the week's grocery run last night instead of our usual Saturday. Burn Notice hit the shelves this week, so I went over to electronics to pick up a copy while we were in the store.

There was a retarded guy over in electronics. Poor dude looked pretty sick. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank. But they were playing Stevie Ray on the demo stereos and dude was seriously into it. He was dancing around behind the cart, completely unself-conscious. I shot him a grin, because fuck, we should all enjoy music that much.

Dude danced over and gave me a high five.

In typical Taco fashion, I had no idea how to respond on the spot, and blurted out the first thing that popped into my head: "Rock the fuck on, man."

I panicked for a moment and wondered, irrationally, how much trouble you got for dropping the F-bomb on a retarded kid. But he just threw me a thumbs up and danced back over to his cart.

Best. Shopping. Trip. Ever.

Where There's Smoke...

My wife and kids are out of town right now, visiting with my father-in-law. I've been living the bachelor life for the past week (translation: too much beer, too many video games, too little sex).

My wife called this evening so that I could talk to the kids. My three year old daughter had a lot of questions about the new dog, and I was so caught up in how adorable her excitement over the new pet is that I failed to notice I'd tapped an extra zero in on the microwave.

So I told the microwave to cook my dinner for 30 minutes instead of 3.

I didn't notice this until there was thick, black smoke fucking POURING out of the microwave.

I slapped the microwave off, opened every window in the house, and turned on every fan in the house. I finally pulled the charcoal briquette that remained of my dinner from the microwave and hucked it still smoking into the trash. Amazingly, the fire alarm hasn't gone off. Yet. Perhaps that should concern me.

The smoke outside was already dense enough to make my eyes burn because of a wildfire in the eastern part of the state. At this point, I'll have to go outside into that poison to get some fresh air.

It stinks like death in here. And now it's hotter than hell because I'm not running the AC and cooling the outdoors. Damn it, I turned into my dad.

Hello... we're Taco and Coyote.

Coyote: What does it say about today that it’s only 9:20 and I’m already halfway through my third Johnny Cash CD of the day?

Taco: Have you tried taking them to Reno and shooting them just to watch them die?

Coyote: I was gonna save that for the weekend. I don’t wanna go to Folsom in the middle of the week.

Taco: Yeah, Folsom's pretty rough. When you're there, time just keeps draggin' on.

Coyote: Luckily I’m not named Sue. God knows what they’d do to me.

Taco: Can you cry? I heard that there once was a man and he couldn't cry. Hadn't cried for years and for years. In the end... well... it didn't end well for him.

Coyote: Not just cry, I can cry cry cry but I do that alone.

Taco: Sounds like the blues. Have you tried getting rhythm? I find that a jumpy rhythm makes you feel so fine it'll drive all your troubles from your worried mind.

Coyote: I tried that but it turns out that I walk the line. You can imagine my disappointment.

Taco: Better keep a close watch on that heart of yours. Last thing you want to do is fall into another ring of fire.

Coyote: I never should have given my love to Rose…

Taco: Shoulda just told her to give your other suit to the Salvation Army. And everything else you left behind.

Coyote: Yep, when the man came around he could have just taken it all.

Taco: Which man? The one on the left?

Coyote: Him there, next to Delia. Hey, I thought she was gone!

Taco: Yeah, they told she was going to Jackson.

Coyote: She’s been everywhere, y’know.

Taco: I'll bet she's in the jailhouse, now.

Coyote: And we’ve come full circle back to Folsom. Yay! Time to leave the glass cage. This was the funningest game ever.