You guys remember my car, Maxwell, yes? How he tried to kill me while simultaneously committing suicide? Well, I'm beginning think that Maxwell doesn't like me very much because he struck again today. Here's how it happened.
I was watching some basketball on TV when, suddenly, I realized I had to poop. I got up and walked over to the bathroom only to realize that there was no toilet paper! Welp, that settled that - I had to go to Walmart to buy some toilet paper. I also had a paycheck to deposit, so I decided to make an outing of it. I put on some pants and a coat, went out to my car and started him up. Maxwell hesitated a bit, but eventually we were on our way. I went to the bank first, then to Walmart. As I was getting back into my car I thought to myself, "I'm so freaking good at going to the store, especially when I get to use the self-checkout, because I go so fast! This was such a quick stop!" Well, as I was pulling out of the parking lot, Maxwell sputtered and died. Again. I didn't really know what to do. I was stuck in the left turn lane. I decided to pop the hood so people could see I wasn't just being a jerk and not moving, but rather that something was clearly wrong with my car and I needed help. Nobody stopped. I called my roommate, Ryan, and he came to help me out. We pushed (with the help of one other guy. One other guy. I was there for like ten minutes and only one person stopped to ask if I needed help. Brookings...people (Brookians? Brookinginians?) are jerks) Maxwell to the side of the road, and Ryan tried to give him a jump. That didn't help. I called my dad. He suggested I check the oil. Good thing, because there wasn't much oil. Conveniently, I was in a Walmart parking lot. Even more conveniently, I was right behind an Advance Auto Parts store. I picked the auto store as the best place to buy some oil. I bought two quarts, at the instruction of my dad, and poured the first one in. That didn't work. I poured the second quart in. That didn't work either. I called my dad again to tell him that oil was not the problem (though it probably would've been, eventually, since there was very little of it in my car). Ryan suggested we go ask the guys at Advance if they could look at it to figure out the problem. Pretty solid idea, so we tried that. Unfortunately, there were no mechanics in at that time, but the guy behind the counter suggested that maybe I was out of gas. If you remember, Maxwell's gas gauge is broken so I guess it was possible that I ran out of gas, but I have a system. I reset the odometer after filling up every time, and I don't let it get to 300 miles. I was at 252 miles, so I was close, but I still had a ways to go. But, I had tried all the other suggestions, so I figured I might as well try this one, too. The guy said I should buy the 5 gallon gas can because something with something else...I don't know. I trusted him, though. Of course, since the 5 gallon one is the biggest one, it's also the most complicated one. Ryan took me to go fill up the gas can, but I couldn't figure out how to put the cap on. It's a two part cap where the spout goes inside the cap, then the cap goes on. It wasn't actually that hard to figure out. However, figuring out how to get the gas from the can to my tank was incredibly hard to figure out. The instructions were something like: 1. Twist green ring to the right to unlock. 2. Pump the spout. 3. Twist green ring to the right again until it locks. I don't remember what 4 was because I didn't make it that far. The green ring would not lock. Step 3 was impossible. Eventually I yelled at the gas can, "Today suuuuuuuuucks!" Conveniently, someone was walking to their car, which was next to mine, at that exact moment and asked if I needed help with something. "Ummm, yeah, actually. Do you think you can figure out how this gas can works?" I wonder how stupid that guy thought I was at that time. However, he couldn't figure it out, either, so now he probably doesn't think I'm that stupid. Ryan eventually figured it out, we got the gas in my car, and I tried starting it. It started. It was gas the whole time. I drove to the gas station, filled up, and went home. It was 4:30. I had to work at 5:00. I DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO POOP. The only reason I drove anywhere was so that I could get toilet paper to poop, and I couldn't poop until I got done with work.
Maxwell's sleeping outside tonight.
Showing posts with label basketball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label basketball. Show all posts
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Belated Posts #2: Camp Poops
As I said in my previous post, camp is now over. However, I have some untold stories I'd like to tell regarding camp. This one is about Camp Poops. Okay, it's actually called Camp Hoops, but say that kind of fast. It sounds like Camp Poops, doesn't it? Yes. Yes it does. This year, camp decided to have a bunch of specialty camps. For instance, there was Horse Camp, Music and Drama Camp, some other camps that I can't remember, and Camp Poops. I'm not entirely sure why, out of all of the camps, Camp Poops was the one where Camp was the first word, but whatever. Since my domination at the game of lightning is pretty much legendary, I was asked if I could counsel at Camp Poops. Of course I said yes.
If you've been to either Shores or Green Lake, you probably noticed that our basketball facilities are lacking. Camp Poops was held at Green Lake since it was for kids who are actually old enough to do basketball things. Green Lake has five(?) hoops, but none of them are very nice, and the court is also pretty meh. However, for Camp Poops, the court was repaved and some new hoops were put up. Also, a parking lot was transformed into a a court with four hoops. It was actually really nice. I was impressed. When I saw the parking lot court, I got really excited. I mean, I was going to get to play basketball. It's not like I'm good at basketball or anything, I just really like to play. I guess I'm okay at basketball, just not compared to most people who have actually played basketball.
It turned out, though, that the other two counselors and I didn't even get to play basketball. We didn't even really get to counsel. All we did was make sure the kids got to where they were supposed to be, which usually meant the basketball court. It was frustrating for us, though, because Camp Poops wasn't very coordinated. It took until Wednesday for there to be a set schedule. It didn't help that it rained a few times, so we had to get all of the kids to a gym. Also, for some reason, Camp Poops kids had to stay in different cabins from the rest of the campers. At Green Lake, all of the campers stay in a lodge with different rooms. Camp Poopers (those who were part of Camp Poops) had to stay in actual cabins, which I was totally fine with, except we only had one shower. One shower for nine sweaty kids is not ideal. Somehow, all of us, including me, managed to shower in one hour. I was so proud. Another bad thing about being secluded from the rest of camp was that our banquet for the end of the week was lame. Usually everyone dresses up, but since it was just a bunch of guys, we had no one to dress up for. Also, our cabins were not air conditioned, and we needed air conditioning more than everyone. Granted, the rooms in the lodge aren't air conditioned, either, but the dining hall in the lodge is. Whatever. Camp Poops was still fun. I got to hang out with the Green Lake staff, which I normally don't get to do, and I got a sweet shirt. I'd say that's pretty worth it.
Oh, I almost forgot. It was decided that I'm a little baby and need to have a friend from Shores come with me to work at Green Lake. Mic-Mac was chosen. I feel like that was a great choice, but it was kinda dumb because I was secluded from actual camp things most of the time. Oh well. We played a few games of LOL/WOW/MOM, and it was awesome.
If you've been to either Shores or Green Lake, you probably noticed that our basketball facilities are lacking. Camp Poops was held at Green Lake since it was for kids who are actually old enough to do basketball things. Green Lake has five(?) hoops, but none of them are very nice, and the court is also pretty meh. However, for Camp Poops, the court was repaved and some new hoops were put up. Also, a parking lot was transformed into a a court with four hoops. It was actually really nice. I was impressed. When I saw the parking lot court, I got really excited. I mean, I was going to get to play basketball. It's not like I'm good at basketball or anything, I just really like to play. I guess I'm okay at basketball, just not compared to most people who have actually played basketball.
It turned out, though, that the other two counselors and I didn't even get to play basketball. We didn't even really get to counsel. All we did was make sure the kids got to where they were supposed to be, which usually meant the basketball court. It was frustrating for us, though, because Camp Poops wasn't very coordinated. It took until Wednesday for there to be a set schedule. It didn't help that it rained a few times, so we had to get all of the kids to a gym. Also, for some reason, Camp Poops kids had to stay in different cabins from the rest of the campers. At Green Lake, all of the campers stay in a lodge with different rooms. Camp Poopers (those who were part of Camp Poops) had to stay in actual cabins, which I was totally fine with, except we only had one shower. One shower for nine sweaty kids is not ideal. Somehow, all of us, including me, managed to shower in one hour. I was so proud. Another bad thing about being secluded from the rest of camp was that our banquet for the end of the week was lame. Usually everyone dresses up, but since it was just a bunch of guys, we had no one to dress up for. Also, our cabins were not air conditioned, and we needed air conditioning more than everyone. Granted, the rooms in the lodge aren't air conditioned, either, but the dining hall in the lodge is. Whatever. Camp Poops was still fun. I got to hang out with the Green Lake staff, which I normally don't get to do, and I got a sweet shirt. I'd say that's pretty worth it.
Oh, I almost forgot. It was decided that I'm a little baby and need to have a friend from Shores come with me to work at Green Lake. Mic-Mac was chosen. I feel like that was a great choice, but it was kinda dumb because I was secluded from actual camp things most of the time. Oh well. We played a few games of LOL/WOW/MOM, and it was awesome.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Perpetual Failure: Minnesota Sports
Thus far, my life as a sports fan has been nothing short of tragic. The only championship from a major pro sports team that I've witnessed was the Twins winning the World Series in 1991. I was three months old. Sure, just last year the Lynx won the WNBA title, but that just doesn't give me the same kind of excitement that I would expect from a championship. The major pro sports, I think, are football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. That means that, in order for me to witness a championship by one of my beloved Minnesota teams, either the Vikings, Twins, Timberwolves, or Wild would have to win one. The Vikings, Twins, and Wild are pretty awful, meaning the Timberwolves have the best shot at a title, though I think the Vikes will be a lot better this year (I'll get to that in a moment). You know Minnesota's sports outlook is pretty bleak when the Timberwolves have the best shot at a title. Their odds aren't good, either. They're not even decent. Sure, we've got Ricky Rubio and Kevin Love, arguably two of the best (if not the best in Kevin Love's case) at their respective positions of point guard and power forward, but outside of those two, we're not very good. Nikola Pekovic showed a lot of promise this year as the team's center, actually, so add him to the Love and Rubio group of "at-least-solid-starters. Derrick Williams showed flashes at times and, given that he was just a rookie, could end up being a very good player. The only problem is that he's more of a power forward than a small forward, and we've got the best power forward in basketball. The team desperately needs a shooting guard that can actually shoot (that seems like it should be easy to find, but apparently it's harder than it seems) and an athletic small forward. If we can get those this off-season, and if Rubio can fully recover from his knee injury, the Wolves will be a contender for a top-four spot in the west next year. Yeah, I said it.
*Sigh*... The Twins. This team is such a mess, I don't even know where to start. Yeah, we've won five of our last seven, which is good (it's actually really good. 1/3 of our wins have come in the last seven games), but frankly, we're a bad team. Without doing any research on this, I believe that Carl Pavano is the only current starter that was in the rotation at the start of the year. That's actually good because, even though all five of them were garbage, he was the best one. Consequently, I believe our starters had the highest ERA among starting rotations in baseball. Now we have three guys I've not heard of and Duensing in the rotation (I think), and I feel a lot more comfortable with that. It's not just the pitching though. Our hitting, though explosive at times, is inconsistent at best. It's unfortunate, too, because when the five guys on the team who can actually hit (Denard Span, Joe Mauer, Josh Willingham, Justin Morneau, and Ryan Doumit) are hitting well, we score a lot of runs. When they're not, though, that means it's up to guys like Alexi Casilla, Jamey Carroll, and Erik Komatsu to get hits. They can't get hits. Mauer and Morneau, though still good-very good, are shells of their former selves. If they were the Mauer and Morneau from five or six years ago, this team would be drastically better.
The definition of heartbreaker when it comes to sports has got to be the Minnesota Vikings. I mean, not last year. Last year they were pitiful. It's not like we've never been good, though. It's not even like we haven't been good recently, because we have. Remember 2009? Yeah, the 12-4, Brett-Favre-led Minnesota Vikings won the NFC North division, and should've at least made the Super Bowl. Yeah, I'm going to complain about that NFC Championship game a bit. First, though, I will reminisce. I remember week 3, Favre's last second, desperation heave to the endzone, miraculously caught by none other than Greg Lewis. I remember sprinting to my dorm room from my Monday night class to watch Favre beat the Packers on Monday Night Football. I remember all the "experts" saying the Cowboys would beat us in the Divisional round of the playoffs, their only reason being that the Cowboys won their Wild Card game. I remember saying, numerous times, "I hope we beat the Cowboys by 30, just so everyone will realize how dumb they are." I remember the Vikings winning 34-3, and the Cowboys complaining that we ran up the score. That game couldn't have been more perfect for me. Then, yes, I remember the NFC Championship game against my new-least-favorite team - the New Orleans Saints. The game in which Saints linebacker, Jonathan Vilma, offered $10,000 to whichever player knocked Favre out of the game. A sense of vindication came over me when the Saints' bounty system was discovered; I, along with many other Vikings fans, knew that the Saints players were playing dirty. Non-Vikings fans called us sore losers. What really bothers me, though, is that the referees just let that happen. They're just as pathetic as the Saints players.
That's not all with the heartbreak of the Vikings, though. Remember 1998? The '98 Vikings are the second best team to never win a Super Bowl, behind only the Patriots team that went 16-0 in the regular season. In '98, the Vikings went 15-1. Our kicker, Gary Andersen, didn't miss a single kick the whole year. That's unheard of! 100% accuracy on field goals for the whole year. Granted, we scored a ton of touchdowns, so Andersen didn't need to kick a lot of field goals. However, in the NFC Championship game that year, he not only kicked field goals, he missed field goals. We ended up losing in overtime, and seven-year-old Joe Russell cried.
Currently, the Vikings are not very good. We do, however, have the best running back in the league (Adrian Peterson) and the best defensive end in the league (Jared Allen). Christian Ponder, now that he has a decent left tackle in Matt Kalil, should improve drastically this year. An awful defensive secondary was improved (though only slightly) with the drafting of safety Harrison Smith and cornerback Josh Robinson. For some reason, no matter how bad the Vikings were the year before, I am always optimistic about the upcoming season at this time during the year. Knowing how horrible we were last year, looking at this year's schedule, I think six or seven wins is realistic. That's still not very good, but it's at least twice as good as last year.
(I know next to nothing about hockey, so I'm just going to assume the Wild will be bad again next year)
The thing about Minnesota sports teams is that we're not always bad, we're just never the best. I feel like if you want emotional balance in your life, you need to be a Minnesota sports fan. That sounds kind of crazy, given that it's pretty depressing here, sports-wise, but hear me out. You have to be optimistic to be a Minnesota sports fan. If you're pessimistic, the frustration, depression, and heart break will be too much, and you'll abandon ship. However, Minnesota sports turns anyone into a pessimist because Murphy's Law (what can go wrong will go wrong) is in full effect for every single sporting event. Actually, I guess it could go either way: you'll either find emotional balance, or you'll become a schizophrenic. Heh, well, good luck with that.
*Sigh*... The Twins. This team is such a mess, I don't even know where to start. Yeah, we've won five of our last seven, which is good (it's actually really good. 1/3 of our wins have come in the last seven games), but frankly, we're a bad team. Without doing any research on this, I believe that Carl Pavano is the only current starter that was in the rotation at the start of the year. That's actually good because, even though all five of them were garbage, he was the best one. Consequently, I believe our starters had the highest ERA among starting rotations in baseball. Now we have three guys I've not heard of and Duensing in the rotation (I think), and I feel a lot more comfortable with that. It's not just the pitching though. Our hitting, though explosive at times, is inconsistent at best. It's unfortunate, too, because when the five guys on the team who can actually hit (Denard Span, Joe Mauer, Josh Willingham, Justin Morneau, and Ryan Doumit) are hitting well, we score a lot of runs. When they're not, though, that means it's up to guys like Alexi Casilla, Jamey Carroll, and Erik Komatsu to get hits. They can't get hits. Mauer and Morneau, though still good-very good, are shells of their former selves. If they were the Mauer and Morneau from five or six years ago, this team would be drastically better.
The definition of heartbreaker when it comes to sports has got to be the Minnesota Vikings. I mean, not last year. Last year they were pitiful. It's not like we've never been good, though. It's not even like we haven't been good recently, because we have. Remember 2009? Yeah, the 12-4, Brett-Favre-led Minnesota Vikings won the NFC North division, and should've at least made the Super Bowl. Yeah, I'm going to complain about that NFC Championship game a bit. First, though, I will reminisce. I remember week 3, Favre's last second, desperation heave to the endzone, miraculously caught by none other than Greg Lewis. I remember sprinting to my dorm room from my Monday night class to watch Favre beat the Packers on Monday Night Football. I remember all the "experts" saying the Cowboys would beat us in the Divisional round of the playoffs, their only reason being that the Cowboys won their Wild Card game. I remember saying, numerous times, "I hope we beat the Cowboys by 30, just so everyone will realize how dumb they are." I remember the Vikings winning 34-3, and the Cowboys complaining that we ran up the score. That game couldn't have been more perfect for me. Then, yes, I remember the NFC Championship game against my new-least-favorite team - the New Orleans Saints. The game in which Saints linebacker, Jonathan Vilma, offered $10,000 to whichever player knocked Favre out of the game. A sense of vindication came over me when the Saints' bounty system was discovered; I, along with many other Vikings fans, knew that the Saints players were playing dirty. Non-Vikings fans called us sore losers. What really bothers me, though, is that the referees just let that happen. They're just as pathetic as the Saints players.
That's not all with the heartbreak of the Vikings, though. Remember 1998? The '98 Vikings are the second best team to never win a Super Bowl, behind only the Patriots team that went 16-0 in the regular season. In '98, the Vikings went 15-1. Our kicker, Gary Andersen, didn't miss a single kick the whole year. That's unheard of! 100% accuracy on field goals for the whole year. Granted, we scored a ton of touchdowns, so Andersen didn't need to kick a lot of field goals. However, in the NFC Championship game that year, he not only kicked field goals, he missed field goals. We ended up losing in overtime, and seven-year-old Joe Russell cried.
Currently, the Vikings are not very good. We do, however, have the best running back in the league (Adrian Peterson) and the best defensive end in the league (Jared Allen). Christian Ponder, now that he has a decent left tackle in Matt Kalil, should improve drastically this year. An awful defensive secondary was improved (though only slightly) with the drafting of safety Harrison Smith and cornerback Josh Robinson. For some reason, no matter how bad the Vikings were the year before, I am always optimistic about the upcoming season at this time during the year. Knowing how horrible we were last year, looking at this year's schedule, I think six or seven wins is realistic. That's still not very good, but it's at least twice as good as last year.
(I know next to nothing about hockey, so I'm just going to assume the Wild will be bad again next year)
The thing about Minnesota sports teams is that we're not always bad, we're just never the best. I feel like if you want emotional balance in your life, you need to be a Minnesota sports fan. That sounds kind of crazy, given that it's pretty depressing here, sports-wise, but hear me out. You have to be optimistic to be a Minnesota sports fan. If you're pessimistic, the frustration, depression, and heart break will be too much, and you'll abandon ship. However, Minnesota sports turns anyone into a pessimist because Murphy's Law (what can go wrong will go wrong) is in full effect for every single sporting event. Actually, I guess it could go either way: you'll either find emotional balance, or you'll become a schizophrenic. Heh, well, good luck with that.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Yo No Estoy Aquí (Spanishly Illiterate)
"I am not here," - that is to what the title translates. I think. I don't really know - I'm not exactly fluent in Spanish. Regardless, that is to what I want the title to translate, so that's good enough. In Spanish class, I have one goal, and that is to not be noticed. However, the professor does a really good job of making sure he calls on everybody. It's unfortunate, because I hate participating in class. I hate participating in every class, not just Spanish, but I hate participating in Spanish the most, because I don't think I've ever been sure of myself when saying something in Spanish. Except "Me gusta baloncesto," which means "Basketball is pleasing to me," or "I like basketball," (It's literal translation is "Basketball is pleasing to me," but nobody who speaks English talks like that, so "I like Basketball" is how it is translated (I'm kind of making that up because, since this deals with Spanish, I'm very unsure)). Like I said, despite my best efforts to not be noticed, I still get called on to do things. Not just by the professor, either. My attempts at going unnoticed are twofold: don't be noticed by the professor, and don't be noticed by the rest of the class. However, I'm clearly failing, because just this week we were doing an activity where a student would have to act out a verb (verbs that I did not know, so I did not participate). The student who correctly identifies the verb "gets" to go act out the next one. "Gets" is in quotes because I don't think anyone was excited to go act out verbs. Anyway, one student correctly identified two verbs. After the second one, he got to choose who would go next. Guess who he chose. Yup. This guy. I didn't even know that kid knew my name. Clearly I need to try harder to be less noticed.
I know you may be thinking, "Participation is good, Joe - you get points and your professor will like you more," and if you weren't, now you are. Oh, really? Is it still a good idea to participate if you have no idea how to participate? I mean, I know how to participate, but I have no idea how I'm participating. You know what I mean? Like, say I went to go play basketball, and when I got the ball, I punted it - I was participating, but I did not get any points and no one else liked me more. That's kind of what it's like when I participate in Spanish. I get asked a question and then stare blankly and say, "Si...?" Sometimes I don't even do that. About 1/3 of the way through the question I'll just give up. I realize that there's no way the question is going to be any easier to comprehend so I stop trying, and when it's over I just say, "I don't really know what you said." Then I feel bad because the rest of the class translates for me. Maybe that's how that one kid knew who I was - I'm just the guy who has no business getting a B in Spanish 102. Which I totally am getting, by the way. That's kind of like an illiterate guy pulling a B in English. I am Spanishly illiterate.
I know you may be thinking, "Participation is good, Joe - you get points and your professor will like you more," and if you weren't, now you are. Oh, really? Is it still a good idea to participate if you have no idea how to participate? I mean, I know how to participate, but I have no idea how I'm participating. You know what I mean? Like, say I went to go play basketball, and when I got the ball, I punted it - I was participating, but I did not get any points and no one else liked me more. That's kind of what it's like when I participate in Spanish. I get asked a question and then stare blankly and say, "Si...?" Sometimes I don't even do that. About 1/3 of the way through the question I'll just give up. I realize that there's no way the question is going to be any easier to comprehend so I stop trying, and when it's over I just say, "I don't really know what you said." Then I feel bad because the rest of the class translates for me. Maybe that's how that one kid knew who I was - I'm just the guy who has no business getting a B in Spanish 102. Which I totally am getting, by the way. That's kind of like an illiterate guy pulling a B in English. I am Spanishly illiterate.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Nostalgia Gland
I'd be lying if I said there was a time this school year where I didn't miss camp and all my camp friends. However, now that the school year is winding down (only 15 days of classes left, but who's counting?), I find myself practically giddy at the thought of returning to camp. I realize that reliving all of the moments that made last summer's camp so great during this summer is unrealistic, but I anticipate new great moments this summer. There are some particular events, though, that have been tickling my nostalgia gland as of late (the nostalgia gland is a very real body organ. It's located near the gall bladder and secretes nostalgialymine, which, obviously, causes nostalgia).
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
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