I don't have any Halloween pictures of myself from my actual youth, so I'll make up for that by posting a few others, besides my official entry. And if you happen to judge me on my "body of work", well, how can I stop you? :-P
|"The Pilot" is my official entry. I made the shirt with a lot of ribbon and a lot of liquid fabric glue.||If you look closely on the left, this is the picture in the ID that's by the tie. If you look even closer, the T-Shirt that is underneath is "Air Flying Monkeys"|
|"Super Fan" is a costume I've done a few times. Mix and match sports clothes, and the basketball helmet. Yes, that's the brush off an ice scrapper. The current one uses a rainbow wig.||"The Ref" there were a pair of those "Geek Glasses" that went with it, but the distortion effect was giving me a headache by the time the picture was taken. That's Cheryl, a former co-worker. She and her roommate hosted most of the parties that these pictures were taken at/for.|
|"Bacchus" – God of wine. And some random drunk dude, riding the L to the party. There's a metal goblet that I got at a wedding store to go with this, and a bottle of Chianti in the wicker basket deal.||"Mad Scientist" – I am repeating this one this year. Oh, that's beer in the flask. This year, I will probably be rocking some Gatorade for effect.|
And there you have a brief retrospective of the "Scopes of Halloween's Past."
A few years back, when I was living alone in my one bedroom bachelor apartment, something very disturbing happened.
The second most disturbing sound one can hear as they are lying in bed, alone, drifting thru that zone of "Not Awake / Not Asleep". Just sort of a throat clearing, that is.
My toilet flush.
And I did not sleep well the rest of the evening.
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Friday night, Cora met me at the train, like normal, and we walked back home. We got to the gate, and I reached for my keys. Whoops! They must be in my bag.
No big deal.
Cora had her keys, so problem. I'll dig them out upstairs.
We get up to the condo, and I dump the contents out on the already cluttered table.
Maybe I didn't take them to work. I don't lock the door when I leave (Cora and Gwen say good-bye to me in the hallway, then go back into the apartment), so maybe they are in the shorts I wore last night.
The pants from the day before.
Any of the usual places I toss my keys?
Nope. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
Crumbs. I must have left them on my desk at work. Normally, it wouldn't matter, but it's the weekend, and I need my keys. Around 6:20, Cora and I jump in the car and take off, shouting the parental advice to Gwen as we left, "Don't burn the place down." Traffic was wretched heading back to the Loop from my NW side place. It took us at least 45 minutes to get there. Then we circled forever looking for a parking place to stash the car while I ran inside. (Friday night theatre crowd + Cora not familiar with downtown and all the one way streets = Need to street park.) Finally found a spot on Wabash, and narrowly avoided taking off my front end on a 100 yr old "L" support squeezing in, but we made it.
Walking to my office, Cora split off to see the new Disney Store that opened the other day, and I ran to my office for what I figured would be a quick in-and-out.
The keys weren't on my desk.
The keys weren't under the papers that I moved around. They weren't under my keyboard. They weren't in the stall I'd used to vanquish some of the pizza from lunch. I ran all over the office. They simply weren't their, either.
Defeated, I trudged to the Disney Store, and saw Cora checking out with a pile of presents for Gwen's birthday and Christmas. So, at least someone scored. As we left the Loop, Cora and I called up a Chinese restaurant that would be on our way home. They said that it would be ready in 10 minutes. It took us at least 20 to work thru traffic to get there.
We finally got home around 9:00.
We set the Chinese down, and I started to clear the table for dinner, and there were my keys. Hidden under the turkey's butt.
Did I feel a little stupid? Yeah.
Was I relieved to have just found the damn keys, and that Cora got some shopping done?
Oh, sweet dancin' Jesus YES!
Tomorrow, 10-10-10, is the Chicago Marathon.
As a 2 time marathoner (I did the 2003 edition in 4:21:48 – 15,981st place) and a Chicagoan, I thought I would offer some helpful hints for those of you running your first marathon.
Avoid eating White Castle, Popeye's Fried Chicken, or chili the night before the race. If you crap yourself at the 6 mile point, you have to live in your filth for another 20 miles. And that shit is gonna start chafing.
If you crap yourself, no one is offering you a ride to your hotel, either.
Speaking of chafing. Wear band-aids over your nipples. Or at least wear a black, red, or orange shirt. No one wants to see your bloody streaks on the front of your shirt from mile 16 onward.
If you ignore the previous advice, take extra care when getting in the shower, because when the water hits your raw nipples, that STINGS LIKE HELL!
Avoid the first few aid stations. They will only slow you down, and you walk with the herd for the first two miles before you can even START jogging. Plus, since you've been "hyper-hydrating" all night, you've already bespoiled 3 sets of Depends undergarments before the race even started. There is a thing as "too much water" pee boy.
If you don't have a lot of friends lining the course to cheer for you, put your name in big bold letters on the front of your shirt. People will read it, and shout your name in encouragement. "Go Eric!"
It's even funnier to write "NADS" on the front of your shirt, so people shout "GO NADS!"
Left. Right. Left. Right. X 26.2
On Monday, when people say, "You ran 26 miles?", be a dick and correct them. "It's 26.2 miles. The .2 matters." People will appreciate the attitude.
Pheidippides ran the first marathon from Marathon to Athens. He announced victory for the Greek army, then dropped dead. If you croak after crossing the finish line, they aren't going to rename the race in you honor, so lighten the hell up, and enjoy the run.
* Yes, that's a picture of me running the marathon, not some random Google image.
** Yes, I have my own bottle of water with me, that I would fill at aid stations every once-in-a-while. Run like you train. I trained with water. I ran with water. Probably saved me 10 minutes of time not having to deal with the crowds, and being able to take a hit whenever I needed it.