<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Monday, February 12, 2007

I'm THIS Many! (Holding Up Three Fingers)... 


I just noticed that, as of this past Saturday, I am now officially in my third blogging year. Not too shabby considering that my initial plan was to maintain this little blogsitething for one year and one year only, after which I would move on to more compelling endeavors. As you can see, that didn't work out exactly as I thought it would...Regardless, in honor of this "blogiversary" of mine, I have for you kids an old post which I've reworked a bit. See, there's a new feature on the Penn Jillette radio show called "Pull of the Weasel" Fridays (not EVERY Friday, mind you, but some Fridays) wherein listeners are encouraged to tell tales of when they've felt the "pull of the weasel" (been compelled to do the "wrong thing") in their daily lives. Justin and I both submitted stories for the feature (neither of which has been read as of yet). What follows is the first story which came to my mind when I got to thinking about when I'd personally felt the weasel tugging at me...If you've been with me from the beginning (or are a regular awesomecast listener) you've already read or heard this story...For the rest of you, I present the condensed version of the original "Run to the Hills."

At some point in 1995, I had the occasion to drive my tiny little 1989 Geo Metro into the ass-end of one of those gigantic 1970s Suburbans (a mismatch, to be sure). The details which would explain WHY I did such a thing are not that important. What is important, however, is the fact that the aforementioned accident left me without a car for two or three weeks and forced me to "bum rides" from family and friends. Now that I think of it, I GUESS I could've rode the bus back then, except for how I just don't ride the bus...Ever...Anyhow, back then I had a friend who went by the moniker "Frog." He was a short little fella' with an enlarged cranium, an effed-up leg and (most importantly) a 1990 Ford Escort. Frog ended up being the one who drove me around most of the time that my car was "in the shop." Among the many places which he ended up having to drive me to was my part-time job as a disc-jockey at an oldies radio station. Speaking of the radio station (we were), we had an overnight DJ who called himself "Mike Shaver" who had recently been fired and had subsequently left town. Since his dismissal, one particular female listener would call up and talk to me about "Mike," saying that he had "broken her heart" by leaving town, blah blah blah. Despite the fact that she sounded "mostly nuts," I would have lengthy conversations with her because it beat the alternative (which was sitting in the closet-sized studio and talking to myself). Anyhow, after a handful of phone conversations, she decided that her and I should meet. Initially I was reluctant to see her in person (the rule is that if a female is calling into a radio station just to talk to the DJ, she's either ugly or crazy (or both) and this chick already sounded "crazy") but after being asked several times over the course of several days, I finally relented and agreed to meet this mystery girl in the food court at the Chapel Hills Mall.

Of course, Frog had to drive me up there.

So there we were, sitting in front of the Orange Julius, awaiting my possible impending doom. Since I hadn't really asked for a full description of this girl (which, in retrospect, may have been a mistake), I was "scoping out" all of the females that came around that day, some of whom...Well, let's just say that I HOPED they turned out to be the mystery girl...As you can imagine, though, all of that hope was in vain...All of a sudden, a not-so-attractive female came into view and I commented to Frog "oh man, I hope that's not her."

Yeah...It was her...

"Are you Derek?" the girl asked, in a voice that was way too loud and way to infused with drool. I hesitated a bit before owning up to who I was, but finally said "yes" and extended my hand...Though the memory is painful, I can recall that she was lanky and more than a bit awkward with patchy blond curly hair and strangely placed acne scars. She also had these curious little foamy "spittle pockets" that would form in the corners of her mouth when she spoke and she smelled strangely like old cheese...Oh yeah: and her mom was with her.

See, just as Frog had to drive me up to the mall, this chick's mom had driven her about an hour and a half from some little shit town out on the plains and she didn't seem the least bit happy about having done it. After some introductions (Freak, Frog, Frog, Freak's Mom), spittle-chick decided that we should see a movie. After admonishing me to "sit on my hands" through the entire picture (which really wouldn't have been a problem, believe me), the mom said that she was going to take the opportunity of "being in town" to do some grocery shopping and that she'd come back to the mall in a couple of hours. I then told drool-girl to have a seat in the food court and that Frog and I would go get the movie tickets..."We'll be right back," I assured her..."We'll have some lunch," I offered, as we left the food court and she faded from view.

As we made our way toward the box office, lost in the crush of mall humanity, Frog looked at me and said "well SHE'S a real winner," of course referring to the sideshow waiting for us in the food court. I agreed and then, after a few seconds of thought, the "pull of the weasel" began to gnaw at my already twisted innards. I looked at Frog and said "you know, we could run right now." He looked back at me, shocked but also visibly relieved and eagerly asked "you wanna?"

I did, in fact, "wanna." Well out of sight of the poor girl, we changed course and took off out the back door of the mall. As we emerged into the parking lot, shielding our eyes from the harsh afternoon sunlight, we immediately realized that we had made a grave error: Frog's car was parked all the way around on the other side of the mall...

And the mother was still out there, somewhere, driving around...

"Oh dear Lord," I thought. "If she sees us, she'll probably RUN US DOWN!" With that image fresh in my mind, I tore off in the direction of Frog's Ford, running as fast as I possibly could. Frog, though, with his aforementioned "effed-up" leg, fell far behind. I tried running slower so that he could catch up but it was no use, Frog just couldn't run all that way. Eventually, he tossed me his keys and limped to a stop before hiding behind a red Chrysler. I, in turn, was able to make it to Frog's car, drive back, pick him up and get the Hell out of Dodge without being sighted by the girl's mother (or the girl, for that matter) Ah, sweet freedom...

Did I feel bad? Well sure I did...Maybe a little...

As I expected, the girl called me up a few days later, the next time I was on the air. Before she could vocalize exactly how much of an asshole she thought I was, though, I asked her "so how was the movie?" and hung up.

I'm pretty sure that she'd like to kill me, even today...

Labels: , , , ,

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?