klepto love story

You know you’ve been working too much when you come home and try to "badge in" to your apartment door.

I always wonder how things would be different if you weren’t gone. 26 years. It’s like everything changed on that day. Nothing would ever, or could ever for that matter, be the same. I remember being brought to Aunt Cathy’s. I didn’t know anything was wrong. I remember going over to Maw Maw Cary’s after you were gone. I can still see everyone standing around the living room too shocked to say a word. I asked Papa if you were coming home. He said quietly that no, you weren’t coming home.

I was only five. You were two and a half. Things changed so quickly. I grew up so fast after that. I learned more about death and life than I should have. I thought for years that I was the one that made you sick. Mom and Dad had just had that wreck on Wednesday. I was throwing up all night. It took a long time for me to realize that it was probably just nerves and worry. My five year old mind couldn’t wrap itself around that concept. I just knew I was sick, you got sick, and then you died.

Sometimes I think about all the things you’ve missed out on. I wish you could’ve met Kristin. I wish you could’ve been at our wedding. I wonder if you would’ve been married by now. I think about us living in the same town, hanging out together. We were inseparable then. I like to think it would’ve continued.

It’s been 26 years. 26 fucking years. It’s still hard. I miss you Lindsey.

My family should not be allowed near cars on March 17th. In 1982 my parents were involved in a pretty bad wreck. In 2002 I was hit by a lady who ran a red light. Then came last night.

We (Kristin, Jana, and I) were driving home from a day of St Patrick’s debauchery. Kristin was hungry so she decided to go to Jack in the Box to get some night breakfast. Jana wanted a piece of cheesecake. We went through the drive thru and started home. When we arrived back at the house, Kristin noticed that Jana’s cheesecake was not in the bag, which prompted my Joe Pesci impersonation of "They FUCK YOU in the drive thru!" It was decided that we should go back and get the cake that was rightfully ours.

Jana was apologizing (as she does, even though it’s unnecessary) that she was making us go back. I said "Yeah, you’re pushing Kristin’s car past the red on the temperature gauge". It actually was. We’ve been having some problems with the car, but as it usually goes, we couldn’t find the time or money necessary to get the car to the shop. I think I had mentioned earlier that day we needed to get it in there. Anyway, Jana said "It even smells kind of burny." All of a sudden smoke starts pouring out from under the hood. Pouring. I start yelling to pull over, Kristin is yelling "WHERE? WHERE?", Jana is just yelling I think. It was pandemonium.

The car ends up in a parking lot somewhere. Smoke is still billowing out of the engine. I probably uttered a few choice words. Actually, I probably uttered more than a few. It was ridiculous. This car has been in the shop twice in the last 6 months for overheating problems and here we were right back in the same position. I really wanted to kick the shit out of the thing. I was done with it.

Kristin called Abbe and she came to the rescue. She even put on pants to do it. Thanks Abbe! When we got home Kristin and I jumped on the computer and started looking for used cars. We found a 2001 Volkswagen Jetta for a decent price. Today we took off work and went to the dealer to test drive it. A few hours later we have a new car. Kristin asked if I thought what we were doing was crazy. I just told her, "well, it’s something." Sometimes something is all you can do.

Last night Kristin and I attended the Fray Cafe event at the Red Eyed Fly. I had run into Michael at Target (as we are known to do) and he invited us to come. It was fun. There were some great (and some meandering) stories told. If I didn’t have such an intense fear of public speaking I would’ve jumped up on stage. However, it was not to be. Instead of telling one on stage, I’ll tell it here.

When I was a sophomore in high school I was in band (yes yes, I know). The band was involved in some marching contest in Plano, TX. My friends and I were talking to each other a few days before and said, "You know what would be a great idea? Let’s bring some Playboys with us on the trip! That will be cool!" I still to this day don’t understand why we thought this would be cool. We got in touch with a guy that had graduated the year before and he agreed to let us borrow some of his which included the Vanna White issue. Oh Vanna indeed. We had to figure out a way to hide them so we stuffed the mags in a Star Trek role playing game box and stashed them in my bag. We would sneak peeks of them when we could in route to Plano which, as you can imagine, wasn’t very often. Good times.

We made it to Dallas, did our little marching thing, and then had to hang out around the stadium while waiting to hear what place we ended up in. My little circle of friends were leaning on some rail somewhere probably making fun of everyone else when I heard some giggling. I looked over and some girls were pointing at us and laughing. I sneered at them and yelled "What’s your problem?" It’s a wonder I didn’t date much in high school. I was so charming. They just said "We were just wondering if you guys wanted to play Star Trek?" and then walked off laughing. My stomach dropped to my shoes. Shit. How did they know? I ran to the bus to check out my bag. It was nowhere to be seen. Someone had taken it! I dispatched my friend Jason to find out the skinny on what was going on. He came back and told me that some freshmen had been going through people’s bags and found our Star Trek box. They wanted to check it out and opened it to find the stash of Playboys. They were looking at them and got busted by the bus driver. Now, I could’ve played dumb and said "Oh that’s not MY bag. I don’t know WHO owns that." However, my bag was a bit distinctive. It looked like a film canister. A big yellow Kodak film canister. Yeah. There was no getting out of this.

I avoided everyone the rest of the day. When we loaded up the bus I didn’t look anyone in the eye. I stared at my shoes the entire time. I knew I was busted. There was nothing I could do. They had me dead to rights. The only thing I could do was lie and plead ignorance.

When we arrived back at school the band director,Mr C. got on our bus and said he wanted to see me and my friends. I was the last to go in the office. He looked at me and asked me why I was so stupid. I told him I didn’t know they were in the box. We had borrowed the game from Walter Pond and didn’t know they were in there. I pleaded with him not to tell my parents. I begged him not to suspend me. He looked at me and I knew he didn’t believe me. But in that one second I could see something in his eyes. Something flashed there, just for an instant. I could sense that he was trying to stifle a smile. He told me to get out of his office. He wasn’t going to tell my parents but I wasn’t getting the magazines back. I backed out of his office thanking him, keeping my head down. I had made it out alive.

Fast forward several months. Our band director had just been fired for supposed sexual harassment of a student. He had allegedly been caught playing strip poker with one of the girls. I never knew if it was true or not. The girl had been busted the previous year for drinking on a band trip and said she would get her revenge. Who knows.

The day the band found out about his "indiscretion" I was hanging out after school in the band hall waiting for my dad (he worked in the maintenance department). Mr. C’s office had been left unlocked and still wasn’t cleaned out. I went in and looked around. I guess I was looking for evidence, maybe a pack of cards. I don’t know. I opened up the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside, under a stack of sheet music, were the Playboys. Maybe the rumors were true. I grabbed them and shoved them in my backpack. No one needed to know he kept nudie mags in his desk. I guess it was my way of repaying him for the favor he did me that day of the marching contest.

I did my civic duty. I left work for about an hour and a half (my boss covering for me) so I could cast my ballot for my candidate. Unfortunately, that ballot was cast for someone who did not win. And so it goes. Obama still leads Clinton in the delegate count but yesterday was a momentum crushing day. It’s going to be a long, hard fight.

My second favorite vote of the day, for one Mr. Andy Hathcock, also didn’t work out. I voted for him for exactly the reason you’d think I would. Andy. Hath. Cock. Yes, I’m a thirteen year old boy living in a 31 year old body.

Speaking of being thirteen: On a sad note, Gary Gygax, the co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, has died. I guess he failed that saving throw. Tonight we roll black d20s.