Dead Reckoning

During one of my first trips home with me driving, I was still figuring out exactly where to go, what roads to take, and how far things are apart. I would travel on Route 84 in Connecticut, a long highway that travels the long way across the state.

My parents called and wanted to know where I was. Seeing as how I didn't have a map or know the area, I said, "Well, if you were to draw a line down the middle of Connecticut, I'm on the left side of that line."

Classic: Utter Trash

Here's a classic funny moment from my college days . . .

I was in a fraternity in college, and it was a blast. One particular night, I was standing on the front porch on "front door" duty (basically making sure guests had student IDs and not letting in townies) with my "little brother" Stephen when we saw two girls run out from behind the house towards the street. We quickly noticed they carried a large metal trash can (you know, one of those fancy annodized aluminum ones). By the time the girls hit the street (I'd already had a few drinks), we realized that it was our trash can.

Now, if you've ever met me, you know I'm not built for speed. Stephen wasn't either.

As we couldn't leave the door unattended, Stephen stayed and I bolted after the girls. They had taken their heels off so they were moving quite briskly. However, they were carrying a huge trash can and I caught up with them right outside the President's (of the university) House. As I grabbed the can, they let go and continued fleeing.

Completely incredulous of the whole event, I started screaming at them: "What the hell is wrong with you? Who steals a fucking trash can! Get the fuck out of here! You're fucking retarded!"

Right as I uttered "retarded", the lights on the 2nd floor of the President's House lit up and I saw movement. Needless to say, I booked it out of there with the trash can as quickly as I could.

We never heard from anyone about that, but the campus cops showed up about five minutes later.

The Greatest Story Ever Told

This is not a classic funny story. This is The Classic Funny Story.

About four years ago, I was out at a diner once with my family in NJ (gotta love NJ diners) when we were handed the dessert menus. Looking through the menu, I saw an item I had never seen before: tiramisu. So I vocalized this: "Hmm, tiramisu." My mom, dad, and sister all instantly say "You wouldn't like that."

Now, you have to know a little bit about me. I usually don't like it when people tell me what I will and won't like based on parameters I don't know. For example, if someone tells me I won't like a particular entree because it has mushrooms, then that's cool. But if someone says "Oh, that, you won't like that" then I might get a little peeved.

So when my family told me that I wouldn't like tiramisu, I was a little peeved. I decided to show them: "How would you know? As a matter of fact, I love tiramisu. It's one of my favorite desserts." My sister, Kristina, didn't buy it: "Do you know what's in tiramisu?" I didn't, but I did know how to avoid the question: Hit her with another question. "Do you know what's in vanilla ice cream?" It worked, and I ordered my tiramisu.

As I stated, I had no idea what was in tiramisu. To understand my dilemma, you need to know one key fact:

I hate coffee and all things coffee.

When I took that first bite of espresso-soaked lady fingers with my family's eyes on me, it took every ounce of my strength to continue chewing unabated, smile, and say "Mmmmmm!" This time, my mother couldn't resist: "So, you like it, huh?" Hook, line, and sinker! "Of course I do, I love it!" They finally believed me when I finished the entire thing in three minutes (I had to eat it that fast or my taste buds would've revolted and marched on my brain).

So we go home, and all is well. However, I'm still a little annoyed at this whole tiramisu nonsense. That's when I decide to kick it up a notch. Everytime I ate out with my family I order tiramisu... for the next 1.5 years.

The strange thing is over those 18 months, I actually got to like the taste of tiramisu.

The Classics

A classic funny moment, brought to you by the letter D.

Watching the movie "The Brotherhood of The Wolf", I noticed that the characters slaughtered hundreds of wolves and simply threw their carcasses in a pile. I said to my fellow movie watchers that this seemed to be a big waste of meat, that the commoners were starving and wolf meat is better than no wolf meat. My friends thought that was hilarious, and badgered me about wolf meat for months.

A different group of friends (separated by geography) got word of this incident, and ended up inventing a phrase that I said: "I need more meat in my wolf nuggets." I have never said that, nor will I ever, but it still comes up when I see anyone I know.

Classic: This time, with feeling

Classic funny moment (though it's pretty nerdy):

At marching band practice one October afternoon senior year of high school, the assistant director (AD) asked what our dynamic (i.e. how loud we should play, e.g. forte, piano, mezzo-piano) was. A few people muttered something, but the AD couldn't hear, so he asked again. A few people spoke up louder, but the AD shouted "What is your dynamic?!"

I thought this was one of those games music directors sometimes play; when you're supposed to play loud they want you to yell back the dynamic so that you understand what loud means. Then I decide to be a leader and shout back a dynamic. "Forte!" (means loud).

He shouts back, "NO!! It's mezzo-forte!" (literally "medium-loud", softer than forte). I shrunk to about two feet and didn't say anything for the rest of the day.

Rockapella; or, Experiments in linking

In college I was a member of the Pep Band. We played at football games. We were always a small group of students but we could usually get the crowd marginally more psyched than they would've been otherwise. It was fun.

My final two years I was a drum major. You may have certain mental images or expectations of what a drum major is.

Forget them.

We were, at most, 25 people. Our uniforms were blue jeans and a T-Shirt. The band didn't really need a drum major (indeed, they dispensed with them the year after I left. I prefer to think that they couldn't fill my shoes) but we had one (two, actually) mostly to queue up songs to play, start and stop the band, etc. Conducting was more of an afterthought.

(I'm rambling, so I'll get to the point. Hang on.)

We had "I Want You Back" by the Jackson Five in our playbooks. One time after playing it (I was conducting) I got pumped up and decided to try a spin like Michael Jackson. With the whole band and half the stands watching, I complete about 355 degrees of the spin, then get my foot caught on the bleachers and I fell flat on my face, parallel to the bleachers. It was awesome.

Greek hero

Today I have failed to be funny. Perhaps I should change the title of the blog.

To be fair to you, my loyal readers (who, I'm fairly certain, includes only me), I will provide you with a classic funny moment from my past. An 'Al Bundy' comedic moment, if you will.

So I'm over at my friend's house. I'm good friends with the mom, dad, brother and sister. The five of us are sitting around a table on the porch when the dad starts to tell a college story (he loves his college stories, but he's not an Al Bundy type; he made a fortune from scratch and doesn't live in the past). We all moan a little but his stories are usually good.

So he starts, "We had a pretty sizable population of foreign students at my school. One of my roommates was the son of a Greek hero..."

At which point I blurted, "Achilles?"