College. It was a time of many pranks, many adventures, and little studying. It was a chapter of life riddled with late night free pizza runs, water ballooning frat guys, running from angry frat guys, and touring unsuspecting people through abandoned slaughter houses. These are the memories and moments that stand out. These are what I look back on with great excitement and subsequent nostalgia. It was a chapter of life that is closed and forever behind me.
Or is it?
With being married I have discovered that the metaphorical "college years" of my life do not necessarily have to be forever locked away in the memory vault. In the dorms I had Steve, Clint, Jason, Blake, Russ and countless other idiots to parade the town, search out free food from closing fast food chains, and terrorize pedestrians with. Now I have Kathryn. And we will carry on the torch together. We will. We must.
Last week while in Charlotte we were on one of our many, exhausting, yet necessary errands around the city to pick up something that was 'needed' for the apartment. The errand was Best Buy to try and snag a very-much needed television before they closed at 9:00 with some of our very-much appreciated wedding cash. We found one, grabbed it, and had it loaded in the back of my car by 9:15. It was dark now, of course, and the metal bars that Best Buy rigged up on the doors behind us reminded me that places were closing down at this time. So when I saw the Domino's Pizza neon blue sign glaring at me on the same strip mall, two and two were instantly put together. Like the Kingdom of God in reverse, the age before broke into the present and I menacingly convinced Kathryn to step inside to attempt a free pizza scam.
I couldn't hear anything from the car outside. I sat in the driver's seat and saw her through the window talking with the young man behind the counter. The tension was mounting. What was she saying? Why was it taking so long? I was trying to piece together the conversation given their behavior and head nods. But there was nothing to go off of. It was a silent movie with manikans. Then the man turned and began looking around behind him. My heart began to race, for I knew that if you can just get the employee to turn and search, the battle has already been won. He is now on your side. He is now looking for pizzas that have been put into the pile identified as "messed up orders" or "pick-ups that were never picked up." It was that set of pizzas that the employees ate on while they worked and it promised to be the set of pizzas we would eat on as well, though without cost. Kathyryn emerged from the door moments later with three pizza boxes in her arms, boasting of thin crusts' pepperoni and pineapple, jalepeno and canadian bacon, and hamburger and sausage. The score was big. The emotions ran high. The celebration had begun.
On her way out to the car, the employee that gave her the pizzas burst out the door shouting, "I hate Domino's. I quit!" As we drove away we could see him walking out to his car in the parking lot. Terrified and embarrassed that she had somehow gotten the poor man fired, Kathryn called up the Domino's to check it out. It turns out the young man was simply going out to his car to get something and wanted a little attention from Kathryn as she left. No harm done.
Kathryn wouldn't touch the half-eaten-on pizza, leaving three large pies just for me. For free. And in so doing, a new era of life has been ushered in, a strange hybrid of past and present, single and married, adolescent and adult. And with this new era I will enjoy not only the adrenaline and newfound company, but the fruits of free pizza, free chicken and biscuits, free rice, free tacos, free custard, and free food wherever Kathryn can be convinced of going into next. May the trumpets of marriage resound.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
married merriment
i am married now. we are very excited. thrilled, even. marriage is so much fun. we can hardly stand it. we can't take it. we're married. it is every thing we ever wanted. marital bliss. that's what it is. bliss.
we're so happy.
we're matthryn.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
The Wedding Bells Toll For Me
The countdown is 48 hours. Wedding. Details. Insanity. This is my life right now. Parents meeting the in-laws. Opening gifts. Finalizing details. Checking into hotels. Running around town. Checking the weather. Packing. Getting sick and needing vitamins. More gifts. More weather checking. More insanity. More details.
48 hours.
And then it will all be over. Kathryn put it best - it has been interesting to enjoy all the preparation and at the same time wish it all away. And that is very true. You love it. You hate it. Light meets darkness. Ying meets yang. You love the wedding and you also desperately want it over. You cling to your last few hours of singleness and also can't wait to toss them away forever. Life is very strange in that regard. Very strange indeed.
48 hours.
I have nothing else to write here. I am spent.
Monday, April 03, 2006
U Haul?...Screw Yall
In the past 2 years, I will have moved 5 times. Gross.
1. Oklahoma to Dallas
2. Dallas to Baton Rouge (with Benn)
3. Benn in Baton Rouge to Nick in Baton Rouge
4. Nick in Baton Rouge to Barrett in Baton Rouge
5. Barrett in Baton Rouge to Kathryn in Charlotte
I hate moving.
Never before had I rented a U Haul truck to move with and never again will I. Despite the obvious name recognition, U Haul is no good. I'm not sure if I could be sued for libel here but I don't care. I hate U Haul. Don't ever use them. They are no good. Repeat: no good.
Kathryn reserved us the truck in Atlanta two weeks ago and just like Seinfeld, when we arrive our reservation proved to be pointless. They did not have the furniture pads for us that we had reserved and they only had one truck left - an old, worn out old-man of a truck with no gas in it and the check engine light on. Kathryn complained to them (actually, just to 'her' since there was only one woman working there that day) and asked them (again, 'her') what the point of "reserving" a truck and furniture pads was. The incompetent woman replied, "You just better be glad you even got a truck." And the whole Seinfeld episode repeated in our minds. "I don't think you understand the point of the reservation. The reservation reserves us a truck. You know how to take the reservation, you just don't know how to hold the reservation. Anyone can just take them..."
So without furniture pads and no time left to go somewhere else for a better truck, Kathryn drove Ol' Halfdead home and when I arrived the next day we loaded it up. To the brim. And when Saturday morning hit, we headed out for Charlotte with me behind the wheel of Ol' This-Truck-Is-About-To-Die and Kathryn in my car. When we made our way into Hill Country, I could tell the U Haul was having difficulty on the inclines. I found myself rocking back and forth in the driver's seat with the dillusional assumption that I was helping it creep over the hills. It miraculously was getting there. And making good time I might add.
Until we hit Gastonia, the smaller city just 30 miles west of Charlotte. Ol' Halfdead began to buck and sputter and was dropping speed quickly. 60 miles an hour descended to 50. Then 40. Then 30. I had to pull over. Cars were blasting by me. I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the road and she died on me. Completely passed out. Ol' Halfdead had breathed her last. With all of our stuff in the back. And 30 miles away from its destination. I tried restarting it only to have it lurch back and forth and sputter dead again. In defeat I rested my forehead against the wheel cursing the doomed truck and the diabolical company that gave it to us.
I knew it would happen. I had numerous people tell me to not go with U Haul. They told me similiar stories. Trucks have broken down before. The employees are completely worthless. But I didn't listen. I let the numbers dictate my decision. Never again.
Kathryn sat on hold for 25 minutes with the U Haul idiots while I opened up the hood and looked at the engine. What I was looking for, I have no idea, but I have seen men on the side of the road do the same thing. Open it up. Make it look like you at least have some idea what you are doing. There is no desperation like sitting on the shoulder of a highway with a broken down car, having the loud woosh of cars force you to yell over the noise and cover your face from the wind. You begin to think crazy thoughts like "Maybe we'll have to sleep out here tonight" or "What if a car from the highway crashes into the back of our truck and all our stuff catches on fire?" There was no hope. U Haul was not picking up. Cell phone batteries were running low. I had no idea where to go, who to call, what to do. It was not a good moment for me.
After a half hour (Kathryn still was on hold) I cranked up the engine again and miraculously it started. I put it in park and hit the gas and it slowly eased its way onto the highway. I got it up to 30 and then 40 and then 50 and then 60. She came back to life. Like a spiritual regeneration, Ol' I-Hate-This-Truck was born again. Kathryn hopped back in my car and we were again on the road. For the remainder on my 40 minute drive into Charlotte I was praying that God would sustain the life of the worn out, rusty, old shell of what used to be a truck. And He did.
But never again will I use U Haul and I recommend you do the same. You might think like I did - hey, U Haul has the name you know. You just sort of call all sorts of moving trucks and trailers 'u hauls.' But be not fooled. There is more to this company than meets the ears. Screw yall, U Haul. You should change your name to We Suck. I can hear it now, "Hey, man will you help me move this Saturday? All I got is one car load and a We Suck."
1. Oklahoma to Dallas
2. Dallas to Baton Rouge (with Benn)
3. Benn in Baton Rouge to Nick in Baton Rouge
4. Nick in Baton Rouge to Barrett in Baton Rouge
5. Barrett in Baton Rouge to Kathryn in Charlotte
I hate moving.
Never before had I rented a U Haul truck to move with and never again will I. Despite the obvious name recognition, U Haul is no good. I'm not sure if I could be sued for libel here but I don't care. I hate U Haul. Don't ever use them. They are no good. Repeat: no good.
Kathryn reserved us the truck in Atlanta two weeks ago and just like Seinfeld, when we arrive our reservation proved to be pointless. They did not have the furniture pads for us that we had reserved and they only had one truck left - an old, worn out old-man of a truck with no gas in it and the check engine light on. Kathryn complained to them (actually, just to 'her' since there was only one woman working there that day) and asked them (again, 'her') what the point of "reserving" a truck and furniture pads was. The incompetent woman replied, "You just better be glad you even got a truck." And the whole Seinfeld episode repeated in our minds. "I don't think you understand the point of the reservation. The reservation reserves us a truck. You know how to take the reservation, you just don't know how to hold the reservation. Anyone can just take them..."
So without furniture pads and no time left to go somewhere else for a better truck, Kathryn drove Ol' Halfdead home and when I arrived the next day we loaded it up. To the brim. And when Saturday morning hit, we headed out for Charlotte with me behind the wheel of Ol' This-Truck-Is-About-To-Die and Kathryn in my car. When we made our way into Hill Country, I could tell the U Haul was having difficulty on the inclines. I found myself rocking back and forth in the driver's seat with the dillusional assumption that I was helping it creep over the hills. It miraculously was getting there. And making good time I might add.
Until we hit Gastonia, the smaller city just 30 miles west of Charlotte. Ol' Halfdead began to buck and sputter and was dropping speed quickly. 60 miles an hour descended to 50. Then 40. Then 30. I had to pull over. Cars were blasting by me. I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the road and she died on me. Completely passed out. Ol' Halfdead had breathed her last. With all of our stuff in the back. And 30 miles away from its destination. I tried restarting it only to have it lurch back and forth and sputter dead again. In defeat I rested my forehead against the wheel cursing the doomed truck and the diabolical company that gave it to us.
I knew it would happen. I had numerous people tell me to not go with U Haul. They told me similiar stories. Trucks have broken down before. The employees are completely worthless. But I didn't listen. I let the numbers dictate my decision. Never again.
Kathryn sat on hold for 25 minutes with the U Haul idiots while I opened up the hood and looked at the engine. What I was looking for, I have no idea, but I have seen men on the side of the road do the same thing. Open it up. Make it look like you at least have some idea what you are doing. There is no desperation like sitting on the shoulder of a highway with a broken down car, having the loud woosh of cars force you to yell over the noise and cover your face from the wind. You begin to think crazy thoughts like "Maybe we'll have to sleep out here tonight" or "What if a car from the highway crashes into the back of our truck and all our stuff catches on fire?" There was no hope. U Haul was not picking up. Cell phone batteries were running low. I had no idea where to go, who to call, what to do. It was not a good moment for me.
After a half hour (Kathryn still was on hold) I cranked up the engine again and miraculously it started. I put it in park and hit the gas and it slowly eased its way onto the highway. I got it up to 30 and then 40 and then 50 and then 60. She came back to life. Like a spiritual regeneration, Ol' I-Hate-This-Truck was born again. Kathryn hopped back in my car and we were again on the road. For the remainder on my 40 minute drive into Charlotte I was praying that God would sustain the life of the worn out, rusty, old shell of what used to be a truck. And He did.
But never again will I use U Haul and I recommend you do the same. You might think like I did - hey, U Haul has the name you know. You just sort of call all sorts of moving trucks and trailers 'u hauls.' But be not fooled. There is more to this company than meets the ears. Screw yall, U Haul. You should change your name to We Suck. I can hear it now, "Hey, man will you help me move this Saturday? All I got is one car load and a We Suck."
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