Apparently, for the world of social media has told me so, it is Nurses Appreciation Week.
I think in weeks like this it is important to reflect not only on how much we truly appreciate Nurses and all that they do, but also how they have directly helped us in our personal journey. Therefore, I am now going to try to recall every instance in which a Nurse has directly helped me. This includes situations like phone calls, office visits and even prior knowledge gained due to previous visits. That last part comes in particularly handy to me as I enjoy performing several "DIY surgeries" from time to time - a skill fully handed down to me by my father - and the knowledge I gained from Nurses in my past helped me severally in those procedures.
So, without further ado...the list.
1. I was born, thanks for cleaning me off Nurses, you did a great job...look how I turned out!
2. I was bitten by a mysterious bug at a rather young (baby) age and my eye swelled shut. It looked like my dad had punched a baby. Thank you Nurses for not reporting him to CPC and for assuring my mother the swelling would go down.
3. Booster shots. They suck. I can't thank you for these, but I also didn't die of Mumps...so its a wash.
4. Around the age of 5 I was climbing on a boat in dry dock and fell off the back of the boat landing on the back of my skull. I suffered a severe concussion. I nearly went into a coma. Depending on how you look at it, this either explains a lot...or...nope, this just explains a lot. Thanks for keeping my brain tip top Nurses.
5. When I was around that same age I decide, with my friend Harley, that it would be cool to show how strong we were by lifting the picnic table at our babysitters house over our heads...by yourself...that's right, just one 5 year old lifting a whole picnic table. Hernia, boom. I managed to hide this from my parents until bath time when dad notice a tiny bump and asked if it hurt when he pushed on it. Thanks for talking care of me Nurses...and making that whole bath thing less awkward.
6. Whilst in 1st grade, I helped my dad mow the lawn at my grandparents house and dad let me ride my bike home all alone. It was the first time we didn't just pack it in his truck and go, I was very excited for my new found freedom. As we came to about the half way point (dad trailing me in the truck, just in case) I decided to show off and jump a driveway curb. Needless to say I caught far too much air and came down hard on my face. My forehead and entire right side of my face were completely scabbed over but I had avoided any busted teeth or eye damage. In this case I believe I specifically remember my mom calling Aunt Elsie for Nurse advice. The class pictures were a week later. I looked like a Leper. I had to hold the class sign. Ego check.
7. I believe around 1st grade is also when I had pneumonia. Short stay in the hospital, but the Nurses were great and always made sure I was doing okay. Again, thanks for making that whole nurse supervised bath in a hospital thing not weird.
8. For Christmas in 3rd grade I received my first BB Gun. A Red Rider. No, I didn't shoot my eye out. That never happens. What does happen is your cousin Davey gets jealous that you won't let him shoot the gun and then when you are least expecting it runs over and pulls the trigger and shoots you in the mouth. Thanks Nurses for cleaning up that mess...and thanks to Dave's brothers for roughing him up over that one.
9. It was also in third grade that, in some weird "everyone crowd in the corner of the building because they are forcing us to go outside for recess on a freezing cold day" incident that I somehow managed to have my head smashed into a brick wall. All I remember is basically crawling through the dirt while making noises like that lady that fell whilst smashing grapes and was roundly mocked on The Family Guy. Thanks Nurses for what ever you did that day...I don't really remember it well.
10. Boys play football. Tackling isn't pretty. Sometimes things get...smashed. Keith Wintz tackled me and his knee landed right on top of my crotch...it was not pleasant at all. I thought I would be fine, but when I awoke the next morning walking was...not easy...because of...the swelling. Thanks for the shot Nurses. Thanks to old Doc Vlach for making that whole inspection as not awkward as possible for a young lad.
11. Some time around 5th or 6th grade I tripped over a rock whilst fishing, tried to catch myself and managed to break the pinkie finger bone in my hand. Fishing should not be a dangerous sport, but my family has always liked to prove those theories wrong. Thanks for the half cast Nurses, and the assurance that it would be just as cool as a full cast.
12. A few years later I managed to break my foot while playing hide and seek. Everyone thought it was a ploy to catch people...it was not. No cast, no shots, just a promise from the Nurse that I would be back playing baseball in a few weeks.
13. In Junior High I came down with a wicked cold...that seemed to turn into the flu. The doctor told my mom that I should just keep taking the antibiotics and it would run its course. After the third round of vomiting in less that an hour she called back...the Nurse told her I probably had an allergy. Thanks for that, cleared up in under 24 hours.
14. Freshman year I was trying out for the baseball team, taking some grounders at second base, when the ball caught a rock, skipped up and drove directly into the tip of my non-glove right hand. It hurt, but I recovered and threw the ball to first, immediately asking for another to make up for the mistake. When the ball came...and the same thing happened I was pissed for sure. I yelled for another grounder, but before I could Jay, at first base, called for time (odd in a practice). I looked over to him as he held up the ball I had just thrown, "Lange there's blood all over this ball". I looked down at my hand and that was the first time I noticed the nail was popped half off and there was blood running down my finger. Thanks to the Nurses that cleaned me up and also devised a plan for me to wear a guard over my finger while the wound and subsequent broken bone healed.
15. Not a lot happened for the next year...until that night coming home from a volleyball game. We were dumb kids and we were racing. The way you win races in Northeast Nebraska is by knowing a better shortcut so we took to the gravel roads rather than stay on the highway. Janeice caught a little too much air going over what I would later find out was a notorious hill for causing accidents. When the car landed she over corrected and then again and by that time the car was going sideways into the right side ditch. I was sitting in the back seat. None of us (Janeice, Leslie and I) were wearing seat belts - like I said, dumb kids. I remember putting my hands up to the ceiling as the green grass in the ditch rushed up toward the window and then chaos. When I woke up, I was looking at the stars, lying on the trunk of the car, my legs laying drooped over the back seat, one ankle wrapped in a seat belt. I'll maybe delve into this story a bit more later, but long story short, thanks EMTs and Nurses for removing that wooden spike from my shoulder and for taking care of my friends, especially Janeice who was the worst by far of any of us. Thank you.
16. Senior year I took an elbow to the sternum in a football game, went right between the seam in my shoulder pads and gave me a pretty bad bone bruise. Thanks Nurses for the Ice pack advise and thanks to the Doc in Yankton for telling me he ignored the same kind of injury in high school and had to have his chest wired together.
17. I really like History class with "Dr." Dave Zimmer...but it came at a time of day that made me want to take a nap. I was taking just such a nap when my friend Pat Pearson decided to tickle my ear with an unfurled paper clip. I jumped, Pat didn't move the paper clip...and it stabbed through my ear drum. Blood...freak out. Thanks Nurses for doing whatever you did that has allowed me to still hear clearly out of that ear. I am currently enjoying some Telegraph Canyon because of you.
18. I enjoy the social aspect of college quite a bit, so when I woke up with a stomach ache that sent me crumbling in a heap when I jumped out of bed that morning, I assumed I had a hangover. Called all my professors and told them I wouldn't be in that day, went to sleep on the couch. When I woke up, Toby was just getting back from his first classes and asked if I was hung over, I said yes...and then realized I couldn't get up from the couch. My midsection hurt more than I had ever experienced. Called my mom, she called a Nurse, mom called me back and I got in my car to drive as fast as I could go and meet her half way between Norfolk and Hartington. Thanks Nurses for somehow knowing I had a severely infected appendix and that it needed to come out immediately. Two hours of surgery to clean up a burst appendix later, I awoke to find a familiar face staring down at me. You may not remember asking me what I needed, you may not remember me telling you that I just wanted to sleep and you may not remember giving me a double dose of Morphine or what ever it was that knocked me out for the next four hours, but I do. For that dose and the several thereafter that put me to sleep for the next two days, thank you. To all the other Nurses in the OR that I was messing with while I was supposed to be passing out, I have this to say "I told you we have a high tolerance in this family."
19. I tend to not got to bed until much later than my wife and this was no different when we first started living together. Our first place was in Lincoln, NE just off Pioneers and 40th street and we lived with our good friends Amy and Chad Miller. One night after Laura had gone to bed I decided to take a shower and when I entered into our bedroom not wanting to wake her by turning on the light, I was confident it would be no problem to walk the 5 feet across the room and grab a pair of underwear from the armoire drawer. I made sure to swing my hand out to check if Laura had left the door to the armoire open and when I felt nothing I confidently bent over to reach into the drawer. What happened next can only be describe as Lange luck. I missed the door with my hand, but caught it directly with my right cheek just below the eye. When Laura finally got the light on in the room I was lying - in just a towel - hand over my face, blood streaming down my cheek. A big thanks to Amy, a nurse, for supplying the butterfly band-aid that sealed up my face. I have forgotten how much you yelled at me for waking you up that night...
20. My second year at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln I took a class called Stage Combat. As an aspiring stage actor and lover of fighting in general, I was very excited for this class. Needless to say, when we got to the part where they brought out the Rapier and Dagger I was positively giddy. As my fight partner Brett and I began slowly working through the combination of attacks and parries that would make up our fight, we became a little too brave and went a little two fast. Brett's Rapier glanced off my dagger and drove into my left eye, catching the lower lid and then coming back out of the socket. I fell backward landing on my left arm and covering my eye. When I was finally able to take my hands off my eye, there was just a scratch but we still had to go to the campus Doc office. Thank you campus Nurses, for not freaking me out further than I already was and then offering to stab me in the right eye as well when it was discovered I had better vision in the left eye.
*As a result of the last two items, I spent a large part of my niece Liby's first year of life with a black eye including, I believe, her baptism. I am her Godfather.
21. The summer before I was about to head off the grad school I was driving home from a late shift of bartending when I was rear ended at a stoplight at the intersection of 56th & A & Cotner in Lincoln. The driver of the other vehicle sped off never to be caught and my car was totaled. I was wearing a seat belt so I was able to sustain minor injuries to my knee and hip. A big thanks to the Nurses that were able to provide me with proper guidance after this accident as two weeks later I ran the Lincoln Half Marathon.
22. The last week of grad school is really reserved for two things: 1) Closing the grad show 2) Partying at all other moments. And so, when I woke up one morning with scratches on my ankles and calves, I figured it was due to the impromptu game of stage diving into bushes I had partaken in the night before. Turns out it was not. You see in Alabama the have these wonderful things called Fire Ants and I had apparently walked through one of their dirt piles the night before. Thanks to the Nurses at the Doc in a box in Montgomery for calming my fears of severe skin infection and giving me the shots I needed.
23. The final two instances deserve one post for they are extremely similar in their reason for being on this list. When I was living in NYC and sleeping on my good friend Jeff's couch (the first time) I had a little bump on my neck that wouldn't go away. First it was pimple, then a tiny "skin tag" then a few months later, it had somehow grown into a piece of flesh the size of a pencil erasure head. It was gross. So Jeff and I did what anyone would logically do in that situation: we got really drunk and went to CVS to get some wart remover tool that is supposed to freeze of warts. I mean, it had to be a wart right!?! Turns out it wasn't a wart and I woke up the next morning with an really angry skin lump the next morning. A few days later, against the wishes of my good friend Dr. Vish I decide to get rid of it once and for all. I showered, scrubbing the lump profusely, then iced it for 10 minutes under direct contact with the ice, then I used a clothes pin to clamp down the lump and force all the blood from it...then...I clipped it off with a fingernail clippers. There was a lot of blood. It never came back. Instance number two involved my taking apart and fixing of a favorite chair of mine. I was prying up some old staples when the flat head screw driver skipped up over the staple driving straight into my left thumb. It would be a few days of unrelenting throbbing before I figured out there was a large lump of skin now taking up residence under my thumbnail. After about an hour of painful clipping and cutting, I was able to get said lump out and clean up my damaged thumb rather nicely. For both of these cases, thanks Nurses for teaching me about sanitation of wounds and to be brave.
I know there are several more instances I am forgetting, I know I can never give enough thanks. Nurses feet hurt, their bladders are made of iron and they take a lot of shit - sometimes literally. Quite often, they do not get enough respect so this week is our chance to give them just that. Thanks Nurses for taking care of me and my accident prone brothers and father. I'm quite certain I will be seeing you soon.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Friday, March 25, 2011
The night before baby...
Well here I sit the night before the biggest change of my entire life is set to occur. Tomorrow morning around 10am, our baby is set to be delivered via Cesarean section.
I am nervous as shit.
I feel like I am on the eve of the most terrifying Christmas ever. I know that what happens tomorrow is going to be the most amazing and beautiful thing in the world. I know the person I meet for the first time tomorrow will be one of my greatest friends. I will stop at nothing to provide my child with everything that it needs.
I just hope I don't screw it up.
I realize this is a fear that every father goes through at some point (at least the good ones) and that my baby will be just fine, but I fear it none the less. I am currently watching a documentary called The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia and if these people can raise children then I'm pretty sure mine is going to be the next Einstein.
I will never let Tatertot quit, at anything. Its not something Langes do.
I will make sure Tatertot always knows love.
Never fears failure.
Is never afraid to speak their mind.
Knows right from wrong in EVERY situation and is not afraid to speak it, regardless of who is present.
Is respectful and gracious and strong and vicious...all at the appropriate times.
Tries new things.
Remembers old things.
Understand the importance of art.
Know that farts are always funny.
Love the Huskers and the Yankees.
Be indifferent yet opinionated about the rest.
Defend baseball as the greatest sport known to man.
Never let radio or tv tell you what is good to listen to and watch.
Hate reality tv. (Assuming Laura doesn't have influence...)
And a whole mess of other things that I guess I'm going to have to cross when they come up.
I will love my child no matter what, but will find this much less stressful if it is not a Republican. Of course by the time Tatertot is old enough to vote, the parties may have changed beliefs again.
I have told Laura several times that under Zombie attack I will be forced to save our baby and myself first and that she will have to keep up. She understands this and that is why I lover her so much.
I really hope this kid doesn't like cats...I KNOW this kid won't like cats, its a Lange.
I am nervous as shit.
I feel like I am on the eve of the most terrifying Christmas ever. I know that what happens tomorrow is going to be the most amazing and beautiful thing in the world. I know the person I meet for the first time tomorrow will be one of my greatest friends. I will stop at nothing to provide my child with everything that it needs.
I just hope I don't screw it up.
I realize this is a fear that every father goes through at some point (at least the good ones) and that my baby will be just fine, but I fear it none the less. I am currently watching a documentary called The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia and if these people can raise children then I'm pretty sure mine is going to be the next Einstein.
I will never let Tatertot quit, at anything. Its not something Langes do.
I will make sure Tatertot always knows love.
Never fears failure.
Is never afraid to speak their mind.
Knows right from wrong in EVERY situation and is not afraid to speak it, regardless of who is present.
Is respectful and gracious and strong and vicious...all at the appropriate times.
Tries new things.
Remembers old things.
Understand the importance of art.
Know that farts are always funny.
Love the Huskers and the Yankees.
Be indifferent yet opinionated about the rest.
Defend baseball as the greatest sport known to man.
Never let radio or tv tell you what is good to listen to and watch.
Hate reality tv. (Assuming Laura doesn't have influence...)
And a whole mess of other things that I guess I'm going to have to cross when they come up.
I will love my child no matter what, but will find this much less stressful if it is not a Republican. Of course by the time Tatertot is old enough to vote, the parties may have changed beliefs again.
I have told Laura several times that under Zombie attack I will be forced to save our baby and myself first and that she will have to keep up. She understands this and that is why I lover her so much.
I really hope this kid doesn't like cats...I KNOW this kid won't like cats, its a Lange.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
This is a depart from most of the stuff that you will find on this blog, but I have no care as 1) I don't think many people read this blog and 2) at this point I REALLY don't care.
I am deep in the middle of trying to put up a show in NYC with a group of friends for the Fringe Festival. I finished rehearsal this last Saturday at 6pm and decided to go get a pint at a pub with my friend Nick, whom I have shared many a drink in my last few years. It was good, I needed it and so did Nick, we had been working hard and it was nice to just talk about bullshit and enjoy a stiff IPA. Then my phone rang.
I won't say exactly what was said next, it is private and shall remain that way. I will only say that my wife had phoned me to say that a friend had died of an apparent suicide.
I didn't understand her at first. I assumed she was referring to a television personality that I could not understand why she would be concerned about. Then it hit me.
Bullshit.
Hell, even writing the words "apparent suicide" makes me feel torn between two feelings about the matter. One tells me to speak the truth, it is what it is. The other tells me to save judgment for the one person that can actually give it.
I still have trouble accepting what had happened and its 3 days later.
I have called, texted and emailed more people than I care to count to inform them of what had happened and I still feel like it is all some kind of fucked up dream.
The thing is, I have been through this before; again, more times than I care to count, just know its been enough. I found myself saying things that I have heard time and time again and always scoffed at.
"No on is to blame."
"You have every right to be angry."
"Its a selfish act. If anyone could see 24 hours into the future they would never do such a thing."
Every time I said those things, every time I thought them, I still found myself scoffing at them the same way I have every time I have heard them from a councilor/priest/friend. All excuses. All bullshit. Words used to comfort the ones that remain with nothing but questions. No matter what anyone says, the act has still been committed. There are still tons of people without a son, brother, cousin, nephew, friend.
I talked with a friend whom I have spent a lot of time with. Someone who, no matter how much you ask either of us, neither would ever admit to knowing a damn thing about the other. We talked and cried and laughed and sobbed like children. We voiced our anger and confusion and hurt. In the end, all we could come up with - and God help me if there is anything else to take from all of this - is that when the phone rings in the middle of the night and you have no idea why someone is calling, answering is the easiest thing you could ever do. I don't know if a call was made, but knowing that a comforting voice is out there has to be something that softens the hardest of hearts, the most broken of souls.
I don't mean to write any of this in any form of judgment. God knows I've been down dark roads before myself, and there will be many more in the future. I just can't come to any conclusion other than the ones I have and that hurts a little.
In the end, I'm still angry. I still hate the fact that I am angry.
I'm not just angry with what was done, but with what I and many others have had to do in the aftermath. The phone calls, the emails, the texts. It won't end for some time and I find myself hating the fact that I have to deal with this all right now. I know that's natural and that it is currently my way of dealing with it. It doesn't make it right. It never will. In the end, it feels like I have taken a selfish act and in turn have become selfish in my responsibility toward the outcome of the act itself. That hurts, but its honest.
Fuck.
I am deep in the middle of trying to put up a show in NYC with a group of friends for the Fringe Festival. I finished rehearsal this last Saturday at 6pm and decided to go get a pint at a pub with my friend Nick, whom I have shared many a drink in my last few years. It was good, I needed it and so did Nick, we had been working hard and it was nice to just talk about bullshit and enjoy a stiff IPA. Then my phone rang.
I won't say exactly what was said next, it is private and shall remain that way. I will only say that my wife had phoned me to say that a friend had died of an apparent suicide.
I didn't understand her at first. I assumed she was referring to a television personality that I could not understand why she would be concerned about. Then it hit me.
Bullshit.
Hell, even writing the words "apparent suicide" makes me feel torn between two feelings about the matter. One tells me to speak the truth, it is what it is. The other tells me to save judgment for the one person that can actually give it.
I still have trouble accepting what had happened and its 3 days later.
I have called, texted and emailed more people than I care to count to inform them of what had happened and I still feel like it is all some kind of fucked up dream.
The thing is, I have been through this before; again, more times than I care to count, just know its been enough. I found myself saying things that I have heard time and time again and always scoffed at.
"No on is to blame."
"You have every right to be angry."
"Its a selfish act. If anyone could see 24 hours into the future they would never do such a thing."
Every time I said those things, every time I thought them, I still found myself scoffing at them the same way I have every time I have heard them from a councilor/priest/friend. All excuses. All bullshit. Words used to comfort the ones that remain with nothing but questions. No matter what anyone says, the act has still been committed. There are still tons of people without a son, brother, cousin, nephew, friend.
I talked with a friend whom I have spent a lot of time with. Someone who, no matter how much you ask either of us, neither would ever admit to knowing a damn thing about the other. We talked and cried and laughed and sobbed like children. We voiced our anger and confusion and hurt. In the end, all we could come up with - and God help me if there is anything else to take from all of this - is that when the phone rings in the middle of the night and you have no idea why someone is calling, answering is the easiest thing you could ever do. I don't know if a call was made, but knowing that a comforting voice is out there has to be something that softens the hardest of hearts, the most broken of souls.
I don't mean to write any of this in any form of judgment. God knows I've been down dark roads before myself, and there will be many more in the future. I just can't come to any conclusion other than the ones I have and that hurts a little.
In the end, I'm still angry. I still hate the fact that I am angry.
I'm not just angry with what was done, but with what I and many others have had to do in the aftermath. The phone calls, the emails, the texts. It won't end for some time and I find myself hating the fact that I have to deal with this all right now. I know that's natural and that it is currently my way of dealing with it. It doesn't make it right. It never will. In the end, it feels like I have taken a selfish act and in turn have become selfish in my responsibility toward the outcome of the act itself. That hurts, but its honest.
Fuck.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
25 Random and Most Likely Stupid Things
Rules: 1. There are no goddamn rules!
2. If you haven't gotten this by now you never look at Facebook. Apparently these
things are all the rage. After much debate, I have decided to one because well, some
of you are doing them wrong. Random means random, therefore the one item should
not relate to the item before or after it, ever. I will now attempt to do this crazy thing.
Oh, and if you like, do the same thing and send it out to some friends, but no one is forcing you.
1. I ab-so-lutely love to gamble. If I made more money I would gamble on oh so many more things. I was very close to placing a bet on the length of the National Anthem this year for the Super Bowl, the over under was 1:57. I would have won. Some people think I am lucky because I often win when I gamble but I think luck is when preparation meets opportunity, or something like that. The only thing I won't gamble on is the outcome of a baseball game.
2. When I was in the 1st grade I flipped over the handle bars of my bike and landed on my face. Before you say "well that explains a lot", there are no lasting scars. Almost my whole face was covered in scabs, forehead to chin, but not my eyes or mouth. First grade pictures were a week later. I got to hold the plaque, front and center. Thanks Swanny!
3. When I was in grad school I met some of the coolest people and became really good friends with them, we really were like a little family. I fear that I will never get to spend time with them like I did whilst in Montgomery.
4. Late at night when I am trying to go to sleep and can't I will pray. Often I try to do a rosary because that would make my Grandma Koenig proud, and if I get through the rosary - which is rare - I know its gonna be a long night. If I don't pray, I think of all the houses I have ever lived in and how I would remodel/renovate them because generally I liked them all.
5. People say it a lot, but I'm pretty sure my wife deserves some sort of award for putting up with me.
6. I hate reality TV. It might be because I have watched the oldest reality show on television - Major League Baseball. The only "reality" shows I watch involve Gordon Ramsey and the BBC, because once you get that guy on FOX, they just manage to fuck it up.
7. My Grandpa Lange change his name from Marlen to Boge. I think Boge/Bogener means boy in German which is funny. He's probably pissed because I just mentioned his real name to people outside the family. My conformation name is Marlen. Nathan Thomas Marlen Lange. Oh, and Tom is my dad's name so I'm kind of like a family tree guy.
8. What the hell is the ShamWow made out of? That thing seems like it actually creates liquid out of nothing. You spill a soda, sop it up with the ShamWow and when you wring it out, there's more soda that the amount you spilled! I would like to set up an experiment where a bunch of people stand around a full swimming pool holding a bunch of ShamWows and at the same time throw the ShamWows into the pool. My guess is there would be a great explosion and the entire area would turn into a desert. Oh, and damn that guy that sells them on TV, he makes me not want a ShamWow and want one at the same time. He should be working for the government.
9. I make friends very easily, or so I've been told. I guess I generally just like people, for the most part, and want to know more about them. However, for all the friends I've made, my family are some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I think that's why I love the holidays so much because it means I can go back home and hang out with my closest friends. If you have never met my parents you should know that they are really just like a couple of older siblings that happen to be in charge of everything. They're kick ass people.
10. Ten is my favorite number. I don't really know why but I have always liked it more than any other number. In baseball it was my number and my nickname was Dime, I liked that. I suppose it speaks to the fact that I can be kind of a perfectionist and its a nice round number. Some of you might not think this was random but I didn't think of it until after I stared at the screen for a good minute, so fuck off.
11. When I got married there were more than a few people that came up to me to express their disappointment that I would no longer be a "Wedding Crasher". It wasn't until then that I realized how much of one I was. For shit sake one summer I crashed so many weddings I started decorating the inside of my car with pieces of decoration from each wedding I had been to, no invites. I have caught 8 garters in all the weddings I have been to, some people say it was a sign, I think I'm just really good.
12. In high school I would drive to Casey's almost every morning and buy a giant pack of NERDS to snack on throughout the day. I also had an elaborate straw system set up so I could drink chocolate milk from the quart I would place at the bottom of my locker every once in a while. Listen I'm just a hungry dude.
13. When I was little I wanted things that would have made me a total nerd. I wanted braces but was blessed with extremely straight teeth. I wanted glasses but was blessed with better than 20/20 vision. Oh, and I was always hoping that I would break my leg or arm because then I could wear a cast. None of these things ever happened. I have since started to wish I was poor and homeless.
14. This might seem arrogant, but me and my friends in high school were shopping at Goodwill, wearing Aviators and being Jackasses before any of you other people that it was remotely cool. I'm not saying we deserve anything for it. You all think Thomas Edison invented the light bulb but he just perfected it. Humphry Davy INVENTED the light bulb.
15. I'm pretty sure I have skin cancer. Or at least the beginnings of it. I was a lifeguard for 4 years and would only use sun block on my ears. Right now I can think of 3 spots on my body that are most definitely dangerously close to skin cancer. Look, I had a ridiculously awesome tan and I would love to get back to that but I don't have the time and I now realize the dangers.
16. I have what I like to call "Bad Good Luck". When random bad things happen to me, I come out looking pretty good. Some examples: I lost my checkbook in Colorado while at the Colorado v. Nebraska football game, we slaughtered the Fuffaloes and somehow the only nice Colorado fan found my checkbook and mailed it back to me, my cell phone fell out of the car at a rest stop when me and my friend Kevin were on a road trip to Minnesota and the janitor of the rest stop found it and called my wife and mailed it back to me, when I was driving back from Alabama with a car packed full of my possessions and absolutely no access to my spare tire I ran over a nail in one tire and the thing didn't go flat for 3 days a week later the other back tire went flat due to a faulty valve.
17. My dogs are Pugs and when they sleep they snore worse than your uncle Lenny. The snores sound like: machine guns, motor boats, choking, weezing, old doors opening, asthma, fat people farts and whiny babies to name a few. I think my dogs prepared me to be able to sleep with almost any background noise. I love falling asleep to the sound of them snoring.
18. My little brother Tucker is a pretty cool dude. He's doing a lot of the things that I wish I would have done with my life but never did and I think about how proud of him I am for that on a daily basis. My brother Ian is one of the best fathers I have ever seen and I think about how proud of him I am for that on a daily basis. My parents are hippies.
19. When I win the lottery, after I pay off all of my bills and set a portfolio that will make me and my family comfortable forever, I will be "investing" in a large portion of my friends futures. If you are on this list, there is a good chance you will be one of those people.
20. I really want to be able to play the guitar better than I do. I don't play well. Its hard to get motivated because I use my dad's old guitar and the neck is cracked at the base so the damn thing is never in tune, but I still try. If I had a band and it needed a name, I would suggest Grandpa's Lapdance. We would play the shit out of Freebird.
21. I never thought I would live past the age of 18. After I reached that age and passed it, it was 21, then 24, then 27. Now its 33 and I can honestly say this one is the one I fear the most. Needless to say this adds to my fear of 2012 for in that year I will turn 33.
22. The only thing I ever wanted to be when I was growing up was a baseball player. I would keep my own stats of how I did and read books and do drills to improve outside of practice. I wasn't delusional either, I just wanted to be paid - any amount - to play the game I love. When I realized the wasn't going to happen (and it was far too late) it was a sad day. Now, I want more than anything in the world to be a good actor, not famous or crazy rich, just a guy who, when actors discuss the trade they think of me. They don't even have to mention me, just think about it and then pass. I pray all the time it doesn't end the way the baseball thing did.
23. I make the assumption that most people don't really care for me. I suppose this has to do with the knowledge (for I've been told) that I come across as a dick sometimes. Its the big brother in me I guess. Its a good thing I don't care.
24. I have secrets that I will never tell anyone. Ever. Not even my wife. Not even on my death bed. They mostly involve theories on sandwich making and things having to do with the government.
25. Potato Salad. Now that's random.
2. If you haven't gotten this by now you never look at Facebook. Apparently these
things are all the rage. After much debate, I have decided to one because well, some
of you are doing them wrong. Random means random, therefore the one item should
not relate to the item before or after it, ever. I will now attempt to do this crazy thing.
Oh, and if you like, do the same thing and send it out to some friends, but no one is forcing you.
1. I ab-so-lutely love to gamble. If I made more money I would gamble on oh so many more things. I was very close to placing a bet on the length of the National Anthem this year for the Super Bowl, the over under was 1:57. I would have won. Some people think I am lucky because I often win when I gamble but I think luck is when preparation meets opportunity, or something like that. The only thing I won't gamble on is the outcome of a baseball game.
2. When I was in the 1st grade I flipped over the handle bars of my bike and landed on my face. Before you say "well that explains a lot", there are no lasting scars. Almost my whole face was covered in scabs, forehead to chin, but not my eyes or mouth. First grade pictures were a week later. I got to hold the plaque, front and center. Thanks Swanny!
3. When I was in grad school I met some of the coolest people and became really good friends with them, we really were like a little family. I fear that I will never get to spend time with them like I did whilst in Montgomery.
4. Late at night when I am trying to go to sleep and can't I will pray. Often I try to do a rosary because that would make my Grandma Koenig proud, and if I get through the rosary - which is rare - I know its gonna be a long night. If I don't pray, I think of all the houses I have ever lived in and how I would remodel/renovate them because generally I liked them all.
5. People say it a lot, but I'm pretty sure my wife deserves some sort of award for putting up with me.
6. I hate reality TV. It might be because I have watched the oldest reality show on television - Major League Baseball. The only "reality" shows I watch involve Gordon Ramsey and the BBC, because once you get that guy on FOX, they just manage to fuck it up.
7. My Grandpa Lange change his name from Marlen to Boge. I think Boge/Bogener means boy in German which is funny. He's probably pissed because I just mentioned his real name to people outside the family. My conformation name is Marlen. Nathan Thomas Marlen Lange. Oh, and Tom is my dad's name so I'm kind of like a family tree guy.
8. What the hell is the ShamWow made out of? That thing seems like it actually creates liquid out of nothing. You spill a soda, sop it up with the ShamWow and when you wring it out, there's more soda that the amount you spilled! I would like to set up an experiment where a bunch of people stand around a full swimming pool holding a bunch of ShamWows and at the same time throw the ShamWows into the pool. My guess is there would be a great explosion and the entire area would turn into a desert. Oh, and damn that guy that sells them on TV, he makes me not want a ShamWow and want one at the same time. He should be working for the government.
9. I make friends very easily, or so I've been told. I guess I generally just like people, for the most part, and want to know more about them. However, for all the friends I've made, my family are some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I think that's why I love the holidays so much because it means I can go back home and hang out with my closest friends. If you have never met my parents you should know that they are really just like a couple of older siblings that happen to be in charge of everything. They're kick ass people.
10. Ten is my favorite number. I don't really know why but I have always liked it more than any other number. In baseball it was my number and my nickname was Dime, I liked that. I suppose it speaks to the fact that I can be kind of a perfectionist and its a nice round number. Some of you might not think this was random but I didn't think of it until after I stared at the screen for a good minute, so fuck off.
11. When I got married there were more than a few people that came up to me to express their disappointment that I would no longer be a "Wedding Crasher". It wasn't until then that I realized how much of one I was. For shit sake one summer I crashed so many weddings I started decorating the inside of my car with pieces of decoration from each wedding I had been to, no invites. I have caught 8 garters in all the weddings I have been to, some people say it was a sign, I think I'm just really good.
12. In high school I would drive to Casey's almost every morning and buy a giant pack of NERDS to snack on throughout the day. I also had an elaborate straw system set up so I could drink chocolate milk from the quart I would place at the bottom of my locker every once in a while. Listen I'm just a hungry dude.
13. When I was little I wanted things that would have made me a total nerd. I wanted braces but was blessed with extremely straight teeth. I wanted glasses but was blessed with better than 20/20 vision. Oh, and I was always hoping that I would break my leg or arm because then I could wear a cast. None of these things ever happened. I have since started to wish I was poor and homeless.
14. This might seem arrogant, but me and my friends in high school were shopping at Goodwill, wearing Aviators and being Jackasses before any of you other people that it was remotely cool. I'm not saying we deserve anything for it. You all think Thomas Edison invented the light bulb but he just perfected it. Humphry Davy INVENTED the light bulb.
15. I'm pretty sure I have skin cancer. Or at least the beginnings of it. I was a lifeguard for 4 years and would only use sun block on my ears. Right now I can think of 3 spots on my body that are most definitely dangerously close to skin cancer. Look, I had a ridiculously awesome tan and I would love to get back to that but I don't have the time and I now realize the dangers.
16. I have what I like to call "Bad Good Luck". When random bad things happen to me, I come out looking pretty good. Some examples: I lost my checkbook in Colorado while at the Colorado v. Nebraska football game, we slaughtered the Fuffaloes and somehow the only nice Colorado fan found my checkbook and mailed it back to me, my cell phone fell out of the car at a rest stop when me and my friend Kevin were on a road trip to Minnesota and the janitor of the rest stop found it and called my wife and mailed it back to me, when I was driving back from Alabama with a car packed full of my possessions and absolutely no access to my spare tire I ran over a nail in one tire and the thing didn't go flat for 3 days a week later the other back tire went flat due to a faulty valve.
17. My dogs are Pugs and when they sleep they snore worse than your uncle Lenny. The snores sound like: machine guns, motor boats, choking, weezing, old doors opening, asthma, fat people farts and whiny babies to name a few. I think my dogs prepared me to be able to sleep with almost any background noise. I love falling asleep to the sound of them snoring.
18. My little brother Tucker is a pretty cool dude. He's doing a lot of the things that I wish I would have done with my life but never did and I think about how proud of him I am for that on a daily basis. My brother Ian is one of the best fathers I have ever seen and I think about how proud of him I am for that on a daily basis. My parents are hippies.
19. When I win the lottery, after I pay off all of my bills and set a portfolio that will make me and my family comfortable forever, I will be "investing" in a large portion of my friends futures. If you are on this list, there is a good chance you will be one of those people.
20. I really want to be able to play the guitar better than I do. I don't play well. Its hard to get motivated because I use my dad's old guitar and the neck is cracked at the base so the damn thing is never in tune, but I still try. If I had a band and it needed a name, I would suggest Grandpa's Lapdance. We would play the shit out of Freebird.
21. I never thought I would live past the age of 18. After I reached that age and passed it, it was 21, then 24, then 27. Now its 33 and I can honestly say this one is the one I fear the most. Needless to say this adds to my fear of 2012 for in that year I will turn 33.
22. The only thing I ever wanted to be when I was growing up was a baseball player. I would keep my own stats of how I did and read books and do drills to improve outside of practice. I wasn't delusional either, I just wanted to be paid - any amount - to play the game I love. When I realized the wasn't going to happen (and it was far too late) it was a sad day. Now, I want more than anything in the world to be a good actor, not famous or crazy rich, just a guy who, when actors discuss the trade they think of me. They don't even have to mention me, just think about it and then pass. I pray all the time it doesn't end the way the baseball thing did.
23. I make the assumption that most people don't really care for me. I suppose this has to do with the knowledge (for I've been told) that I come across as a dick sometimes. Its the big brother in me I guess. Its a good thing I don't care.
24. I have secrets that I will never tell anyone. Ever. Not even my wife. Not even on my death bed. They mostly involve theories on sandwich making and things having to do with the government.
25. Potato Salad. Now that's random.
Friday, January 16, 2009
20 Random Songs
So I've seen all these lists on Facebook and whatnot about answering questions with random songs from your itunes. While interesting, it speaks of a need for comment which many people often forget; I have chose to remedy this situation. What follows is 20 random songs from my itunes and how I feel about the song/album/band. My only rule is if a band comes up more than once in the list, I skip to the next song. Life is short and I don't have time to wax on and on about the benefits of listening to more Black Keys/Kings of Leon/Ryan Adams - though there are many. Oh, and no instrumentals by vocal bands or live stuff, there has to be parameters bitches. So with out any further ado, here is the list:
1. Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
Someone told me recently that I was a moron for not having enough Who on my itunes and while I listen to this song I am beginning to realize how right they were. One often forgets how much they really enjoy a band over the years and I guess The Who is one band that I wrote off in a sense, I don't pretend to know why. I suppose it has something to do with some article I read somewhere that said they were inflated or less than but in the long run good music is just good fucking music.
2. Talking Columbia - Woody Guthrie
You know, I had a CD that was mad for me last year by my friend Matt and he put on the end of it Bob Dylan's "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" (if you haven't you should), and right then and there I figured I should listen to this young lad Woody I had heard so much about. Now I will be the first to admit that I don't care too much for country music but I think that has more to do with modern country that the old stuff because Woody makes me laugh and think in a fashion I don't often do, much like John Prine - who you should also listen to. I like the simplicity of the music.
3. Nothing Left To Say But Goodbye - Audioslave
I was really hoping this would be Cochise, I can't deny it. I fucking love Chris Cornell's voice, it is everything Rock n Roll is all about - gritty, loud, soft, hard and dirty. Oh, but not necessarily in that order. I am rather sad that Audioslave is no more, if not for the songs for the fact that I will no longer be supplied with awesome songs for karaoke. If you haven't heard Cornell's acoustic version of Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" you should, its awesome.
4. Eclipse - Pink Floyd
It doesn't seem right not listening to this song within the context of the album. Who doesn't love Pink Floyd? Wait I know the answer to that - Communists, Republicans and the Devil. My dad used to wake me up with the heartbeat at the end of this song on Saturday mornings. He'd crank up his stereo so the whole damned house was shaking. Dick.
5. Heart Of Stone - The Rolling Stones
This one falls into that extra bluesy stuff the Stones do. I love the Stones and I really like this song even though I'm sure most people have never heard it. I heard that Mick thinks that his voice got its bluesy tone from the fact that he fell as a child and bit off the tip of his tongue. Weird.
6. Where Fugees At - Wyclef Jean
I don't know if I have ever heard this song before, no wait its just been a really long time. I have to be honest I want that fucking question answered. I loved the Fugees and now where are we at? Clef is doing this, Praz is probably smoked up in some Jamaican burrow and Lauren is in a padded room yelling at white people. I miss the Fugees, they were on the right track with the writing they did, I don't care who chastises me for it. Not that anyone reads this. Man I kind of like this song, I should listen to more Clef. Wait, did I just put that down. Shit.
7. Letter To Hermione - David Bowie
True story, I lost all my music a few years ago due to a fried hard drive and didn't realize I hadn't gotten the Bowie back until I saw a Flight of the Conchords episode. I like Bowie on certain days and this is one of them, the guy can get a little weird but this song is rather nice. I would like to know if he wrote this on acid and had a vision into the future and this was written due to his crush on a certain teen actress. No? Okay.
8. Step Inside My Ride '94 - G. Love and Special Sauce
My good friend Greg turned me on to these guys and I don't think I will be able to live another summer without heavy rotation from G. Love. This is the absolute perfect music for a lazy summer porch party - of which we had plenty. I dare anyone to listen to some G. Love and not catch yourself bobbing your head with the music after a few short minutes, its near impossible.
9. Nervous Shakedown - AC/DC
These motherfuckers are undeniable. Un. De. Niable. If you hate AC/DC you hate life cause this shit could wake the dead, and I'm sure it has from time to time. You have no idea how hard it is to do what these boys do until you try to karaoke an AC/DC song, trust. Brian Johnson has the vocal chords of the devil and he knows how to use them. For those who think all the songs sound the same and its nothing but repeats, you need to listen to the beginning lyrics to "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" and take them to fucking heart.
10. The Devil Is Singing Our Song - James Gang
So about a year ago my buddy Nick says to me, "have you heard of the James Gang" to which I replied with a string of answers pertaining to the Jesse James Gang, and then the band - to which he was actually referring. "Yeah I have, why?" He then proceeded to coerce me into giving them a complete re listen. These dudes are vastly underrated and owe a lot of current recognition to Joe Walsh. Anyway, give them another shot if you haven't yet, its worth it.
11. Your Southern Can Is Mine - The White Stripes
I want this to be known right now: I knew about the White Stripes before you knew what was up and what was down. I saw them on Conan a LONG time ago and didn't get the name wrote down and then ran into a CD years later and recognized the cover of Meg's bass drum and was instantly gratified. Jack White knows modern blues like most of us know how to walk. Now if he can only learn how to keep his voice in good condition.
12. Rock N' Me - Steve Miller Band
I think I listened to these boys more than any other human being in 1993. I found the CD in my dad's collection, gave it a spin and fell instantly in love with the sound. Something about it that links to Dire Straights and Tom Petty, simple good American Rock n Roll. That and the opening lyrics are like my life right now, hell a lot of the lyrics are like my life right now, this is weird.
13. By The Light Of The Silvery Moon - Ray Charles
Okay truth be told, I got the Ray Charles entire collection on the cheap and I have never heard this song before. That doesn't mean I don't like it. You can trace a whole shit ton of modern music back to Ray, if not through the music through the drug use. If you listen to him close enough one starts to understand how some of his stuff was rather raucous at the time, I mean he flat out says he wants to spoon in this song. Man times have CHANGED.
14. Hair Pie: Bake 2 - Captain Beefheart
I know I said no instrumentals, but this is a special one. Not really the song as much as the band. I first heard about this group because the Black Keys have covered a few of their songs and regard them rather highly so I looked into them. If you have any questions about what its like well, Captain Beefheart was really good friends with Frank Zappa so it can get a little weird. When they come down off the high they do some cool shit though.
15. Rumors - Josh Ritter
My friend Matt that made the CD I mentioned earlier had a Josh Ritter shirt he would wear to rehearsal from time to time, so I asked him about the dude. He told me to give it a listen and here we are, I have all of his stuff, I think. I just don't think that modern radio plays enough music like this. I guess it would be called soft rock/country maybe. Its a little like Jack Johnson meets Clem Snide a little. I don't fucking know, I just like the dude. Give it a whirl. Good background party music.
16. It Beats For You - My Morning Jacket
If you don't know who My Morning Jacket is, shame on you! Its hard to put these guys into any kind of box so I won't even try. I read an article in RS where these guys were interviewed and it was one of those articles you read and walk away from knowing that music is still in good hands. Once you get away from all the corporate bullshit that is out there. Who can argue with Jim James (lead singer) when he includes "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in his list of favorite all time songs. Every CD they have released has passed my driving test and that is hard to do.
17. Dinu Lipatti's Bones - The Mountain Goats
Here is another one of those bands I could put on and just let repeat for days. My friend had this playing one night while we were playing poker and I immediately asked who they were. Such a nice chill level of songwriting and singing. The Mountain Goats might be a little hard to find for some, but they have a ton of shit out there so look them up.
18. Barbara Ann - Beach Boys
I love this song. Plain and simple. Forget that my little brother had a lip sync talent show band that covered this song, so it makes me laugh, its just too catchy not to love. Its one of those songs that comes on an everyone in the room know all the words and can't help but sing along. Now isn't it our job to find that kind of music today? I guarantee you that its not fucking Britney Spears, that is for sure.
19. Strange Brew - Cream
You can't deny Clapton. I don't have to say anything else than that.
20. Here Comes My Girl - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
When I was in sixth grade I would walk home from school with my friends my brother Ian would be close ahead or behind with his friends. We would unlock the back door to our house, read the note mom had left of chores we needed to do around the house, pop in Tom Petty on dad's CD changer and just let that fucker ride. Never was there ever a more simple and enjoyable time in my life. I can assure you if you put on the Full Moon Fever CD anytime, anywhere, me and Ian could sing every song front to back with a broom in hand.
Well there it is, my list. I think I might do this every month or so just to keep my own sanity. It was good to hear a lot of these songs, especially that last one. Go out and listen to something good today and if you haven't for a while walk into a random music store (preferable not a corporate one like Best Buy) and ask the first person that looks like they know their shit what you should be listening to right now. I have done it numerous times at Homer's in Lincoln, NE and have never been let down by those guys, they know their shit trust them.
1. Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
Someone told me recently that I was a moron for not having enough Who on my itunes and while I listen to this song I am beginning to realize how right they were. One often forgets how much they really enjoy a band over the years and I guess The Who is one band that I wrote off in a sense, I don't pretend to know why. I suppose it has something to do with some article I read somewhere that said they were inflated or less than but in the long run good music is just good fucking music.
2. Talking Columbia - Woody Guthrie
You know, I had a CD that was mad for me last year by my friend Matt and he put on the end of it Bob Dylan's "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" (if you haven't you should), and right then and there I figured I should listen to this young lad Woody I had heard so much about. Now I will be the first to admit that I don't care too much for country music but I think that has more to do with modern country that the old stuff because Woody makes me laugh and think in a fashion I don't often do, much like John Prine - who you should also listen to. I like the simplicity of the music.
3. Nothing Left To Say But Goodbye - Audioslave
I was really hoping this would be Cochise, I can't deny it. I fucking love Chris Cornell's voice, it is everything Rock n Roll is all about - gritty, loud, soft, hard and dirty. Oh, but not necessarily in that order. I am rather sad that Audioslave is no more, if not for the songs for the fact that I will no longer be supplied with awesome songs for karaoke. If you haven't heard Cornell's acoustic version of Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" you should, its awesome.
4. Eclipse - Pink Floyd
It doesn't seem right not listening to this song within the context of the album. Who doesn't love Pink Floyd? Wait I know the answer to that - Communists, Republicans and the Devil. My dad used to wake me up with the heartbeat at the end of this song on Saturday mornings. He'd crank up his stereo so the whole damned house was shaking. Dick.
5. Heart Of Stone - The Rolling Stones
This one falls into that extra bluesy stuff the Stones do. I love the Stones and I really like this song even though I'm sure most people have never heard it. I heard that Mick thinks that his voice got its bluesy tone from the fact that he fell as a child and bit off the tip of his tongue. Weird.
6. Where Fugees At - Wyclef Jean
I don't know if I have ever heard this song before, no wait its just been a really long time. I have to be honest I want that fucking question answered. I loved the Fugees and now where are we at? Clef is doing this, Praz is probably smoked up in some Jamaican burrow and Lauren is in a padded room yelling at white people. I miss the Fugees, they were on the right track with the writing they did, I don't care who chastises me for it. Not that anyone reads this. Man I kind of like this song, I should listen to more Clef. Wait, did I just put that down. Shit.
7. Letter To Hermione - David Bowie
True story, I lost all my music a few years ago due to a fried hard drive and didn't realize I hadn't gotten the Bowie back until I saw a Flight of the Conchords episode. I like Bowie on certain days and this is one of them, the guy can get a little weird but this song is rather nice. I would like to know if he wrote this on acid and had a vision into the future and this was written due to his crush on a certain teen actress. No? Okay.
8. Step Inside My Ride '94 - G. Love and Special Sauce
My good friend Greg turned me on to these guys and I don't think I will be able to live another summer without heavy rotation from G. Love. This is the absolute perfect music for a lazy summer porch party - of which we had plenty. I dare anyone to listen to some G. Love and not catch yourself bobbing your head with the music after a few short minutes, its near impossible.
9. Nervous Shakedown - AC/DC
These motherfuckers are undeniable. Un. De. Niable. If you hate AC/DC you hate life cause this shit could wake the dead, and I'm sure it has from time to time. You have no idea how hard it is to do what these boys do until you try to karaoke an AC/DC song, trust. Brian Johnson has the vocal chords of the devil and he knows how to use them. For those who think all the songs sound the same and its nothing but repeats, you need to listen to the beginning lyrics to "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" and take them to fucking heart.
10. The Devil Is Singing Our Song - James Gang
So about a year ago my buddy Nick says to me, "have you heard of the James Gang" to which I replied with a string of answers pertaining to the Jesse James Gang, and then the band - to which he was actually referring. "Yeah I have, why?" He then proceeded to coerce me into giving them a complete re listen. These dudes are vastly underrated and owe a lot of current recognition to Joe Walsh. Anyway, give them another shot if you haven't yet, its worth it.
11. Your Southern Can Is Mine - The White Stripes
I want this to be known right now: I knew about the White Stripes before you knew what was up and what was down. I saw them on Conan a LONG time ago and didn't get the name wrote down and then ran into a CD years later and recognized the cover of Meg's bass drum and was instantly gratified. Jack White knows modern blues like most of us know how to walk. Now if he can only learn how to keep his voice in good condition.
12. Rock N' Me - Steve Miller Band
I think I listened to these boys more than any other human being in 1993. I found the CD in my dad's collection, gave it a spin and fell instantly in love with the sound. Something about it that links to Dire Straights and Tom Petty, simple good American Rock n Roll. That and the opening lyrics are like my life right now, hell a lot of the lyrics are like my life right now, this is weird.
13. By The Light Of The Silvery Moon - Ray Charles
Okay truth be told, I got the Ray Charles entire collection on the cheap and I have never heard this song before. That doesn't mean I don't like it. You can trace a whole shit ton of modern music back to Ray, if not through the music through the drug use. If you listen to him close enough one starts to understand how some of his stuff was rather raucous at the time, I mean he flat out says he wants to spoon in this song. Man times have CHANGED.
14. Hair Pie: Bake 2 - Captain Beefheart
I know I said no instrumentals, but this is a special one. Not really the song as much as the band. I first heard about this group because the Black Keys have covered a few of their songs and regard them rather highly so I looked into them. If you have any questions about what its like well, Captain Beefheart was really good friends with Frank Zappa so it can get a little weird. When they come down off the high they do some cool shit though.
15. Rumors - Josh Ritter
My friend Matt that made the CD I mentioned earlier had a Josh Ritter shirt he would wear to rehearsal from time to time, so I asked him about the dude. He told me to give it a listen and here we are, I have all of his stuff, I think. I just don't think that modern radio plays enough music like this. I guess it would be called soft rock/country maybe. Its a little like Jack Johnson meets Clem Snide a little. I don't fucking know, I just like the dude. Give it a whirl. Good background party music.
16. It Beats For You - My Morning Jacket
If you don't know who My Morning Jacket is, shame on you! Its hard to put these guys into any kind of box so I won't even try. I read an article in RS where these guys were interviewed and it was one of those articles you read and walk away from knowing that music is still in good hands. Once you get away from all the corporate bullshit that is out there. Who can argue with Jim James (lead singer) when he includes "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in his list of favorite all time songs. Every CD they have released has passed my driving test and that is hard to do.
17. Dinu Lipatti's Bones - The Mountain Goats
Here is another one of those bands I could put on and just let repeat for days. My friend had this playing one night while we were playing poker and I immediately asked who they were. Such a nice chill level of songwriting and singing. The Mountain Goats might be a little hard to find for some, but they have a ton of shit out there so look them up.
18. Barbara Ann - Beach Boys
I love this song. Plain and simple. Forget that my little brother had a lip sync talent show band that covered this song, so it makes me laugh, its just too catchy not to love. Its one of those songs that comes on an everyone in the room know all the words and can't help but sing along. Now isn't it our job to find that kind of music today? I guarantee you that its not fucking Britney Spears, that is for sure.
19. Strange Brew - Cream
You can't deny Clapton. I don't have to say anything else than that.
20. Here Comes My Girl - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
When I was in sixth grade I would walk home from school with my friends my brother Ian would be close ahead or behind with his friends. We would unlock the back door to our house, read the note mom had left of chores we needed to do around the house, pop in Tom Petty on dad's CD changer and just let that fucker ride. Never was there ever a more simple and enjoyable time in my life. I can assure you if you put on the Full Moon Fever CD anytime, anywhere, me and Ian could sing every song front to back with a broom in hand.
Well there it is, my list. I think I might do this every month or so just to keep my own sanity. It was good to hear a lot of these songs, especially that last one. Go out and listen to something good today and if you haven't for a while walk into a random music store (preferable not a corporate one like Best Buy) and ask the first person that looks like they know their shit what you should be listening to right now. I have done it numerous times at Homer's in Lincoln, NE and have never been let down by those guys, they know their shit trust them.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Things I hated in 2008
The economy.
The government.
People that go to grad school only to bitch about how much they hate it.
People that destroy art, and not just any kind but especially the kind that was made from a man's one dream for his hometown. Yep, those kinds of people pissed me off.
People that are too afraid to call the above people on their bullshit.
News affiliates that hold on to a story far too long, only to release it far too late.
Best Buy employees that don't know their head from their ass when it comes to saving files.
The way it smells after it rains in Alabama.
No wait, just the way it smells in Alabama.
Big Ten Tires.
Old Barbers that yell at you for letting your dog piss on their lawn.
Tim Tebow.
8:15. What a stupid time of day. Either way.
Fucking idiots. There I said it.
The entire state of Delaware. Why Delaware you ask? Why not Delaware.
Hockey moms.
Soccer moms.
Your mom.
Okay just kidding, I think your mom is fine.
Girls that wear pink fishnet shirts that make them look like sausages. You madam, are too big.
The BCS. Probably gonna carry over to 2009.
Gas prices. Retarded.
Pink hair.
People who fire other people because they are afraid of them.
Miniature statuettes.
Stinky people on the subway.
The day your Metro card runs out.
Insecurity.
Arbor Station handy men. That title is really an oxymoron.
Leaving friends.
Cats. Always have, always will.
The MLB playoffs.
If there's anything I forgot, let me know.
The government.
People that go to grad school only to bitch about how much they hate it.
People that destroy art, and not just any kind but especially the kind that was made from a man's one dream for his hometown. Yep, those kinds of people pissed me off.
People that are too afraid to call the above people on their bullshit.
News affiliates that hold on to a story far too long, only to release it far too late.
Best Buy employees that don't know their head from their ass when it comes to saving files.
The way it smells after it rains in Alabama.
No wait, just the way it smells in Alabama.
Big Ten Tires.
Old Barbers that yell at you for letting your dog piss on their lawn.
Tim Tebow.
8:15. What a stupid time of day. Either way.
Fucking idiots. There I said it.
The entire state of Delaware. Why Delaware you ask? Why not Delaware.
Hockey moms.
Soccer moms.
Your mom.
Okay just kidding, I think your mom is fine.
Girls that wear pink fishnet shirts that make them look like sausages. You madam, are too big.
The BCS. Probably gonna carry over to 2009.
Gas prices. Retarded.
Pink hair.
People who fire other people because they are afraid of them.
Miniature statuettes.
Stinky people on the subway.
The day your Metro card runs out.
Insecurity.
Arbor Station handy men. That title is really an oxymoron.
Leaving friends.
Cats. Always have, always will.
The MLB playoffs.
If there's anything I forgot, let me know.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
My Christmas Story
I have no doubt that everyone and their uncle has seen the movie "A Christmas Story", especially considering that its been on a 24 hour loop every Christmas day for the last 10 years or so. Bearing that in mind I still love the damn movie. When Christmas rolls around every year, I can't wait to catch at least one running of the movie, and often watch it 3 or 4 times just out of pure boredom. Every time I watch it however, I am reminded of the Christmas that I received my first BB gun - which just so happened to be a Red Rider.
If I remember the build up to that Christmas correctly, it involved a lot of begging and pleading on my part in an attempt to cajole my parents into the benefits of "Santa" getting me a BB gun that Christmas. You see it was simply unfair for me to NOT have a BB gun as many of my friends already had received guns of their own and were running around our neighborhood killing every Sparrow, Robin and Black Bird they could find, as well as the occasional rabbit and squirrel. If they could have a BB gun, why the hell shouldn't I have one as well? Frankly it pissed me right off, and I voiced that opinion frequently.
In the days leading up to Christmas I began to leave notes for "Santa" randomly lying around the house, the only thing on the list was always a BB gun. Simply put, I would not be satisfied with all the presents in the world if one of them was not a BB gun. I shit you not when I say the entire holiday season that year went down almost as if my parents had meant to reenact the movie "A Christmas Story". Every time I asked for the gun, my mother told me that age old rebuttal, "You'll shoot your eye out." I was appalled. I had seen the movie of course, I had seen that fat little puke shoot his eye out time and time again; but being just a 3rd grader myself, I knew the major problem with what had happened in the movie you see. Any idiot worth his salt never shot at a paper target hung in front of a piece of sheet metal! That stupid kid deserved to have the BB ricochet and hit him in the eye, he just got lucky he was wearing glasses. It still pisses me off to this day, that little fucker ruined the ownership of a BB gun for so many kids after him just by not using common sense.
Anyway...
Christmas day came and like I said, it seemed like the whole thing was being played right out of the movie script. My brother Ian and I came downstairs in the morning to the most spectacular pile of presents we had ever seen, there were gifts everywhere! As we searched about the tree trying to see what we all had, separating the presents with our name on them, it slowly became quite clear that I had not been given a BB gun.
I was heartbroken.
The rest of the gift opening went off as expected, lots of frothing at the mouth and tearing of paper, screams of delight and smiles all around. As the gifts dwindled to almost nothing I didn't even notice my dad get up from his chair to "get another cup of coffee" much less see him return with not one but two long rectangular shaped presents and slide them behind the tree. My brothers and I were busy playing with all the new stuff we got as well as checking out each others presents when my dad mentioned something about the other two presents still under the tree. I'm not sure but I think a little pee came out as we both turned to see what lay in wait for us in that wrapping paper.
At this point it should be mentioned that my dad did stop us and say something or other about how we had to be more responsible with this present than we had with anything else we had ever received and if we ever blah, blah, blah. I'm not sure about Ian, but I know that I was pretty much frothing at the mouth by the time we were given the okay to open the damn things and I'm sure when we did it looked a little like rabid dogs eating babies covered in hot chocolate. I have to admit I was not as fond of the gun when I first saw it; you see many of my friends had pellet guns that involved several pumps to load and were far more powerful than a simple BB gun. In the long run, beggars can't be choosers and this beggar wanted A gun, it didn't matter what kind as long as it could kill.
No sooner did we have the guns open than we were loading them and taking them out to shoot. Just a couple of shots were all we were allowed however, because we had to load up our stuff and head out to my grandparents farm for the Koenig family Christmas. Of course, I took my gun as did Ian, thinking there would be plenty of things to have target practice on at the farm. Oh, and we would also be able to hold the guns over our cousins heads as many of them lived in bigger towns and couldn't have BB guns.
When we got out the farm the scene unfolded pretty much as expected, upon learning we had Red Rider BB guns everyone wanted to shoot them and we being the owners of said guns were Gods among children, weilding our newfound power with an iron fist. No one under Ian's age was allowed to shoot his gun, likewise with my age and gun. That left only 3 people to shoot besides me and Ian and a good number more to watch and complain. We were forced to wait to begin the assault on all things living until after dinner and the other gift opening of sweatpants and the like from the grandparents and the excitement was making everyone crazy.
Soon we began walking around the farmhouse shooting at birds and cans and well, whatever the hell we wanted to with the exception of Robins, Cardinals and Wrens; Grandma liked those birds to much to let them die. We shot at anything and everything allowing those in the age range to occasionally shoot as well. The longer we shot, the more the younger cousins bitched that they should be allowed to shoot as well, and none of them bitched more than Davey. Now while present day cousin Dave is a pretty cool guy and one I have shared a beer with on several occasions, Davey - circa 1986 - was wound tighter than a crackhead on payday. That Davey was 6 or 7 and had more energy than 5 kids his age, he also had more nerve.
You see, as I toted my gun around the farm I made sure to keep the tip pointed down or up at all times and after a while the gun started to get heavy. The tip eventually got too low and caught the ground putting a bit of dirt into the barrel and like any good exploding gun fearing rifleman. I had heard the stories (and seen the cartoons to back it up) and I was not about to shoot a gun with dirt in the barrel just to have it blow my face off. At any rate I sat down to clean the dirt out of the barrel completely forgetting whether or not I had cocked the damn thing or if I had placed the safety on it.
That is when Davey made his move.
Quick as he could Davey rushed to the gun and just as I was starting to blow the dirt away he pulled the trigger.
What unfolded next could only be described as the most amazing scene in Koenig family Christmas history. Immediatly realizing what had happened - Davey shooting my gun of course, not so much me getting shot in the mouth - I stood up and punched Davey. I hit him so hard he spun round, fell on his ass and simultaniously pissed his pants and puked into his hand. His brothers Bobby and Danny then set to beating him to within an inch of his life. As this happened, Ian was running into the house to tell everyone what had happened and after I had landed the haymaker I was right on his heels.
When I came into the house there was utter pandimonium. I was immediatly grabbed by my dad as he tilted my head back to look into my mouth. Before he could start however he gasped upon feeling a tiny rock stuck in my hair, you see he thought the BB had gone straight through. I explained that I had spit it out and was allright, I just had a lot of blood in my mouth and wanted to rinse it out. About that time Davey came in bloody, crying and covered in puke and piss, which also had to be explained away.
There isn't a Christmas that goes by that I don't think about how fucking lucky I was that day. A split second sooner or later on that trigger and Davey could have literally shot my eye out or worse.
Yep, that's my fucking luck.
If I remember the build up to that Christmas correctly, it involved a lot of begging and pleading on my part in an attempt to cajole my parents into the benefits of "Santa" getting me a BB gun that Christmas. You see it was simply unfair for me to NOT have a BB gun as many of my friends already had received guns of their own and were running around our neighborhood killing every Sparrow, Robin and Black Bird they could find, as well as the occasional rabbit and squirrel. If they could have a BB gun, why the hell shouldn't I have one as well? Frankly it pissed me right off, and I voiced that opinion frequently.
In the days leading up to Christmas I began to leave notes for "Santa" randomly lying around the house, the only thing on the list was always a BB gun. Simply put, I would not be satisfied with all the presents in the world if one of them was not a BB gun. I shit you not when I say the entire holiday season that year went down almost as if my parents had meant to reenact the movie "A Christmas Story". Every time I asked for the gun, my mother told me that age old rebuttal, "You'll shoot your eye out." I was appalled. I had seen the movie of course, I had seen that fat little puke shoot his eye out time and time again; but being just a 3rd grader myself, I knew the major problem with what had happened in the movie you see. Any idiot worth his salt never shot at a paper target hung in front of a piece of sheet metal! That stupid kid deserved to have the BB ricochet and hit him in the eye, he just got lucky he was wearing glasses. It still pisses me off to this day, that little fucker ruined the ownership of a BB gun for so many kids after him just by not using common sense.
Anyway...
Christmas day came and like I said, it seemed like the whole thing was being played right out of the movie script. My brother Ian and I came downstairs in the morning to the most spectacular pile of presents we had ever seen, there were gifts everywhere! As we searched about the tree trying to see what we all had, separating the presents with our name on them, it slowly became quite clear that I had not been given a BB gun.
I was heartbroken.
The rest of the gift opening went off as expected, lots of frothing at the mouth and tearing of paper, screams of delight and smiles all around. As the gifts dwindled to almost nothing I didn't even notice my dad get up from his chair to "get another cup of coffee" much less see him return with not one but two long rectangular shaped presents and slide them behind the tree. My brothers and I were busy playing with all the new stuff we got as well as checking out each others presents when my dad mentioned something about the other two presents still under the tree. I'm not sure but I think a little pee came out as we both turned to see what lay in wait for us in that wrapping paper.
At this point it should be mentioned that my dad did stop us and say something or other about how we had to be more responsible with this present than we had with anything else we had ever received and if we ever blah, blah, blah. I'm not sure about Ian, but I know that I was pretty much frothing at the mouth by the time we were given the okay to open the damn things and I'm sure when we did it looked a little like rabid dogs eating babies covered in hot chocolate. I have to admit I was not as fond of the gun when I first saw it; you see many of my friends had pellet guns that involved several pumps to load and were far more powerful than a simple BB gun. In the long run, beggars can't be choosers and this beggar wanted A gun, it didn't matter what kind as long as it could kill.
No sooner did we have the guns open than we were loading them and taking them out to shoot. Just a couple of shots were all we were allowed however, because we had to load up our stuff and head out to my grandparents farm for the Koenig family Christmas. Of course, I took my gun as did Ian, thinking there would be plenty of things to have target practice on at the farm. Oh, and we would also be able to hold the guns over our cousins heads as many of them lived in bigger towns and couldn't have BB guns.
When we got out the farm the scene unfolded pretty much as expected, upon learning we had Red Rider BB guns everyone wanted to shoot them and we being the owners of said guns were Gods among children, weilding our newfound power with an iron fist. No one under Ian's age was allowed to shoot his gun, likewise with my age and gun. That left only 3 people to shoot besides me and Ian and a good number more to watch and complain. We were forced to wait to begin the assault on all things living until after dinner and the other gift opening of sweatpants and the like from the grandparents and the excitement was making everyone crazy.
Soon we began walking around the farmhouse shooting at birds and cans and well, whatever the hell we wanted to with the exception of Robins, Cardinals and Wrens; Grandma liked those birds to much to let them die. We shot at anything and everything allowing those in the age range to occasionally shoot as well. The longer we shot, the more the younger cousins bitched that they should be allowed to shoot as well, and none of them bitched more than Davey. Now while present day cousin Dave is a pretty cool guy and one I have shared a beer with on several occasions, Davey - circa 1986 - was wound tighter than a crackhead on payday. That Davey was 6 or 7 and had more energy than 5 kids his age, he also had more nerve.
You see, as I toted my gun around the farm I made sure to keep the tip pointed down or up at all times and after a while the gun started to get heavy. The tip eventually got too low and caught the ground putting a bit of dirt into the barrel and like any good exploding gun fearing rifleman. I had heard the stories (and seen the cartoons to back it up) and I was not about to shoot a gun with dirt in the barrel just to have it blow my face off. At any rate I sat down to clean the dirt out of the barrel completely forgetting whether or not I had cocked the damn thing or if I had placed the safety on it.
That is when Davey made his move.
Quick as he could Davey rushed to the gun and just as I was starting to blow the dirt away he pulled the trigger.
What unfolded next could only be described as the most amazing scene in Koenig family Christmas history. Immediatly realizing what had happened - Davey shooting my gun of course, not so much me getting shot in the mouth - I stood up and punched Davey. I hit him so hard he spun round, fell on his ass and simultaniously pissed his pants and puked into his hand. His brothers Bobby and Danny then set to beating him to within an inch of his life. As this happened, Ian was running into the house to tell everyone what had happened and after I had landed the haymaker I was right on his heels.
When I came into the house there was utter pandimonium. I was immediatly grabbed by my dad as he tilted my head back to look into my mouth. Before he could start however he gasped upon feeling a tiny rock stuck in my hair, you see he thought the BB had gone straight through. I explained that I had spit it out and was allright, I just had a lot of blood in my mouth and wanted to rinse it out. About that time Davey came in bloody, crying and covered in puke and piss, which also had to be explained away.
There isn't a Christmas that goes by that I don't think about how fucking lucky I was that day. A split second sooner or later on that trigger and Davey could have literally shot my eye out or worse.
Yep, that's my fucking luck.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Mice
In the last few weeks, as the weather has grown colder and the days shorter, tiny evil mice have been plotting their revenge. While I have been here in New York City, trying to be a successful actor, by wife has been in Nebraska, being inundated by what can only be described as a horde born straight from the mouth of hell - mice. At current count, the death toll stands at 9 with no sign of slowing down. I, of course will be heading back to Lincoln for Thanksgiving, and perhaps a little longer, and am already in the planning stages of amassing some sort of defensive stand against these bastards of the animal world.
If pigeons are rats with wings, mice are rats with cherub faces and the smell of baby powder. You see, as I begin my attack I am not only fighting against the evil that is the mouse underworld, but I also have to battle the weak heart of my wife Laura who would like nothing more than to adopt each mouse that enters our abode, and keep them for ever after as a pet. As if that weren't enough already, it turns out that one of our dogs has apparently taken to watching the little bastards run back and forth - from under the desk to under the stove and back - with great entertainment. It turns out that even though they have dug a hole into the loaf of bread and made a tiny hovel bed out of whole wheat, they are just so fucking cute, that we should let them run free, to crawl over our faces in the night, shit in our silverware drawer and possibly eat our damned faces off!
I can't help but think this is punishment of some sort of wrong I have done to the mouse world as a whole, some kind of karmic righting or sorts. "But Nate," you ask "what have you done to mice?" Well, its not that simple you see. Just as Cubs fans have paid generations of post season pain for the goat hating actions of one man, I, it seems am also guilty by association. You see, my father could widely be considered the A number 1 offender to mice everywhere. What Babe Ruth was to baseballs, what Ray Robinson was to Jake LaMotta, what George W. Bush is to peace, my father has been to the world of mice.
Now, I know you probably doubt that Tom Lange has been that prolific in the killing of mice, but do you know the whole story? Are you aware that, unhappy with the classic bait of cheese on a mouse trap, my dad came up with the combined use of peanut butter mashed together with cotton, the use of which makes it virtually impossible for the mouse to pull the bait off the trap with out setting off the trap? And if the mouse accomplishes this seemingly death defying feat, what awaits him after he attempts to eat the peanut butter soaked cotton, but a death of suffocation and choking due to the indigestible "pot-heads nightmare" as it is also known. (I have actually looked in on a trap that was set off to find a mouse dead by asphyxiation.) Trust me the man has given me lectures on the evil of a mouse in the house from a young age, and they are still a vivid memory.
I remember the first mouse I killed in front of my dad. We were in the kitchen of the house I grew up in when a mouse ran across the floor from under the sink to under the movable dishwasher that was currently near the stove. Mom screamed and dad immediately went into combat mode, yelling at all of us to get into position, "the little bastard doesn't have anywhere to go, he has to come back out!" So we grabbed the nearest shoes or pans or newspaper and when dad moved the dish washer, the mouse came running straight at me, then zigged toward my parents bedroom door, that was right off the kitchen. Without really thinking about it, I slammed the shoe down at the mouse and struck it clean on the head, well the nose really. Which only managed to make it flop around in a pretty freakish way before I could gather my senses and hit it even more square, killing it with my Pony high tops.
Years later, as the weather became colder once again, the little devil cherubs started to invade again, this time bringing with them the most conniving mouse know to man. I'm not sure of everything that mouse put my dad through, and frankly I'm afraid to ask him all the details; I do know this, after battling with that one mouse for over a month, upon killing it my dad had this look in his eye of accomplishment. This accomplishment wasn't just bread out of the death of one mouse, but it seemed the feeling that the world of mice had thrown their best at my dad, and he - being the nobler species - had destroyed that mouse, and with it any mouses hope on living long term in the Lange household. The mice, it seems did not share this sentiment.
Years later, after Laura and I had moved into a house apartment in Lincoln, Nebraska, the weather once again started to change, and once again, the mice decided to train their cross hairs on the Lange house, not the Tom Lange house, but the house of his eldest son, Nathan Lange. It started with the bread: a loaf would have a hole chewed into it, then a box of rice or some papers on the kitchen counter. Later we would find mouse turds in the silverware drawer and that was as far as it would last. Of course my animal loving wife wanted to try live traps so we did, much to the extreme dismay of my father. There was a late night conversation in which I was told that no matter how far I took the mouse to release it, it would find my house again and would have no problem settling right back in. Now more due to the live traps not really working than my belief in the mouse's innate ability to seek and destroy my particular life, I switched to death traps.
I decided to go with traps that had a cover over the actual "kill zone" because I surmised that Laura would not have to actually see the dead mice that way and I didn't want our dogs getting at the mouse trap food. For weeks I used the old peanut butter and cotton bait to no avail; the mice were just not taking the bait. After a little deliberation I decided to use a piece of "Bacon Strips" dog treat as well as the pb and cotton mix in hopes that the smell would be irresistible to the mice, and boy was I right. In the first few hours I had caught two mice and was feeling pretty happy about the situation. After a few days no mice had showed up and I thought that I had actually done away with all of them, until I saw one scoot across the floor as I walked to the bathroom early on morning. Seeing him run behind the TV stand, I immediately placed a trap in his run path, careful to put it far enough back so the dogs would not accidentally set off the trap, and left for class.
When I arrived home that afternoon, I was in dire need of a nap before I went to rehearsal that night so I immediately dropped my bag at the door and basically crashed on the love seat in our living room. The nap was wonderful, the dogs laid by my side and when I woke up an hour later I felt refreshed and ready for rehearsal. I got up off the couch and went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and get ready to leave but as I looked in the mirror I noticed some small drops of blood on the shoulder of my t-shirt. Feeling worried about where it came from I immediately took my shirt off and began to search my neck, back and arms for the source of the wound. Having found no cut I thought possibly one of the dogs had hurt themselves and bled on me while we slept, so I turned back toward the living room to take a look at them.
That's when everything went into slow motion.
Still holding the t-shirt, I turned toward the living room and noticed something small and grey on the love seat where I had just napped. In reality it probably took nano seconds for the whole scene to play out, but in my memory it was eons of pain and confusion. My eyes focused in on the object on the love seat and that is when I realized I had just napped for an hour with my two pug dogs, and A FUCKING DEAD MOUSE! My immediate reaction was that of a ten year old Girl Scout, I screamed like a sissy and threw my t-shirt in the direction of the dead mouse while at the same time diving backward into the bathtub. I turned on the shower, still screaming, and began to scrub my whole body in a feeble attempt to remove whatever form of rabies/bubonic plague the bastard had given me. There were tears. There were so many tears. Needless to say, it was not one of my proudest moments. It was a scene not unlike when Ace Venture realized he had made out with a Plum Smuggler.
When I finally got my shit together and cleaned myself up I went back into the living room to see how the hell this all was possible. It turns out that while my bait for the traps was incredibly effective in capturing mice, it was also incredibly effective in luring puppy dogs to scratch and dig at the trap so as to procure the tasty treat for themselves. My dogs had actually opened the trap, eaten the treat and then, as if to "hide the evidence" buried the damn mouse in the blanket covering the love seat so no one would find out. I not being privy to this information, proceeded to cuddle up with the deceased and take a nice nappy poo.
My fucking luck.
If pigeons are rats with wings, mice are rats with cherub faces and the smell of baby powder. You see, as I begin my attack I am not only fighting against the evil that is the mouse underworld, but I also have to battle the weak heart of my wife Laura who would like nothing more than to adopt each mouse that enters our abode, and keep them for ever after as a pet. As if that weren't enough already, it turns out that one of our dogs has apparently taken to watching the little bastards run back and forth - from under the desk to under the stove and back - with great entertainment. It turns out that even though they have dug a hole into the loaf of bread and made a tiny hovel bed out of whole wheat, they are just so fucking cute, that we should let them run free, to crawl over our faces in the night, shit in our silverware drawer and possibly eat our damned faces off!
I can't help but think this is punishment of some sort of wrong I have done to the mouse world as a whole, some kind of karmic righting or sorts. "But Nate," you ask "what have you done to mice?" Well, its not that simple you see. Just as Cubs fans have paid generations of post season pain for the goat hating actions of one man, I, it seems am also guilty by association. You see, my father could widely be considered the A number 1 offender to mice everywhere. What Babe Ruth was to baseballs, what Ray Robinson was to Jake LaMotta, what George W. Bush is to peace, my father has been to the world of mice.
Now, I know you probably doubt that Tom Lange has been that prolific in the killing of mice, but do you know the whole story? Are you aware that, unhappy with the classic bait of cheese on a mouse trap, my dad came up with the combined use of peanut butter mashed together with cotton, the use of which makes it virtually impossible for the mouse to pull the bait off the trap with out setting off the trap? And if the mouse accomplishes this seemingly death defying feat, what awaits him after he attempts to eat the peanut butter soaked cotton, but a death of suffocation and choking due to the indigestible "pot-heads nightmare" as it is also known. (I have actually looked in on a trap that was set off to find a mouse dead by asphyxiation.) Trust me the man has given me lectures on the evil of a mouse in the house from a young age, and they are still a vivid memory.
I remember the first mouse I killed in front of my dad. We were in the kitchen of the house I grew up in when a mouse ran across the floor from under the sink to under the movable dishwasher that was currently near the stove. Mom screamed and dad immediately went into combat mode, yelling at all of us to get into position, "the little bastard doesn't have anywhere to go, he has to come back out!" So we grabbed the nearest shoes or pans or newspaper and when dad moved the dish washer, the mouse came running straight at me, then zigged toward my parents bedroom door, that was right off the kitchen. Without really thinking about it, I slammed the shoe down at the mouse and struck it clean on the head, well the nose really. Which only managed to make it flop around in a pretty freakish way before I could gather my senses and hit it even more square, killing it with my Pony high tops.
Years later, as the weather became colder once again, the little devil cherubs started to invade again, this time bringing with them the most conniving mouse know to man. I'm not sure of everything that mouse put my dad through, and frankly I'm afraid to ask him all the details; I do know this, after battling with that one mouse for over a month, upon killing it my dad had this look in his eye of accomplishment. This accomplishment wasn't just bread out of the death of one mouse, but it seemed the feeling that the world of mice had thrown their best at my dad, and he - being the nobler species - had destroyed that mouse, and with it any mouses hope on living long term in the Lange household. The mice, it seems did not share this sentiment.
Years later, after Laura and I had moved into a house apartment in Lincoln, Nebraska, the weather once again started to change, and once again, the mice decided to train their cross hairs on the Lange house, not the Tom Lange house, but the house of his eldest son, Nathan Lange. It started with the bread: a loaf would have a hole chewed into it, then a box of rice or some papers on the kitchen counter. Later we would find mouse turds in the silverware drawer and that was as far as it would last. Of course my animal loving wife wanted to try live traps so we did, much to the extreme dismay of my father. There was a late night conversation in which I was told that no matter how far I took the mouse to release it, it would find my house again and would have no problem settling right back in. Now more due to the live traps not really working than my belief in the mouse's innate ability to seek and destroy my particular life, I switched to death traps.
I decided to go with traps that had a cover over the actual "kill zone" because I surmised that Laura would not have to actually see the dead mice that way and I didn't want our dogs getting at the mouse trap food. For weeks I used the old peanut butter and cotton bait to no avail; the mice were just not taking the bait. After a little deliberation I decided to use a piece of "Bacon Strips" dog treat as well as the pb and cotton mix in hopes that the smell would be irresistible to the mice, and boy was I right. In the first few hours I had caught two mice and was feeling pretty happy about the situation. After a few days no mice had showed up and I thought that I had actually done away with all of them, until I saw one scoot across the floor as I walked to the bathroom early on morning. Seeing him run behind the TV stand, I immediately placed a trap in his run path, careful to put it far enough back so the dogs would not accidentally set off the trap, and left for class.
When I arrived home that afternoon, I was in dire need of a nap before I went to rehearsal that night so I immediately dropped my bag at the door and basically crashed on the love seat in our living room. The nap was wonderful, the dogs laid by my side and when I woke up an hour later I felt refreshed and ready for rehearsal. I got up off the couch and went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and get ready to leave but as I looked in the mirror I noticed some small drops of blood on the shoulder of my t-shirt. Feeling worried about where it came from I immediately took my shirt off and began to search my neck, back and arms for the source of the wound. Having found no cut I thought possibly one of the dogs had hurt themselves and bled on me while we slept, so I turned back toward the living room to take a look at them.
That's when everything went into slow motion.
Still holding the t-shirt, I turned toward the living room and noticed something small and grey on the love seat where I had just napped. In reality it probably took nano seconds for the whole scene to play out, but in my memory it was eons of pain and confusion. My eyes focused in on the object on the love seat and that is when I realized I had just napped for an hour with my two pug dogs, and A FUCKING DEAD MOUSE! My immediate reaction was that of a ten year old Girl Scout, I screamed like a sissy and threw my t-shirt in the direction of the dead mouse while at the same time diving backward into the bathtub. I turned on the shower, still screaming, and began to scrub my whole body in a feeble attempt to remove whatever form of rabies/bubonic plague the bastard had given me. There were tears. There were so many tears. Needless to say, it was not one of my proudest moments. It was a scene not unlike when Ace Venture realized he had made out with a Plum Smuggler.
When I finally got my shit together and cleaned myself up I went back into the living room to see how the hell this all was possible. It turns out that while my bait for the traps was incredibly effective in capturing mice, it was also incredibly effective in luring puppy dogs to scratch and dig at the trap so as to procure the tasty treat for themselves. My dogs had actually opened the trap, eaten the treat and then, as if to "hide the evidence" buried the damn mouse in the blanket covering the love seat so no one would find out. I not being privy to this information, proceeded to cuddle up with the deceased and take a nice nappy poo.
My fucking luck.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Welcome to the Nate Lange Show!
Okay, so this is the first of hopefully many times I will be putting some stuff up here for you people to read. I don't know what the hell I am actually going to base any of this off of, but the way I figure, most of the people that come here are just looking for some classic stuff to come flying out of my classy mouth. You may not have heard from me for a while and I hope that you don't take that as a slight, frankly I may be the worst person in the world at keeping in contact with people, so don't make yourself so damn important, its not you its me.
To get things started in a good direction, I thought I would blog a bit about the recent election and how I feel about it. It should be obvious to many that I am absolutely thrilled that Barack Obama is the 44th President Elect of the United States of America! As I sat and watched the night unfold, I couldn't help but try to think back to the last time I really felt that proud to be an American. I suppose it was as a kid watching the astronauts go into space, and of course to see the outpouring of human kindness in the wake of the 9/11 tragedies, but as far as being proud that as a country we finally elected the right man for the job, it made me very happy. I hope and pray that the next four years will be the first steps in the right direction for our country as I feel we are on the edge of scary possibilities. Days later as I was watching the news and seeing the reactions all over the world to the many different countries and celebrations, I came to the realization that many Americans were not the only ones who had been waiting for our country to "do the right thing". This is one of the main reasons why I felt Obama was the right choice for this country. Let's face it, in the end they are all politicians and we can't really trust them farther than we can throw them; but in Obama I find a man that, while he may lack in years more than makes up for it in passion, intelligence and universal appeal. That last one will most obviously get some flack, but think about it for a second. The USA is look to by the rest of the world, at least prior to this election, as the big brother that could never live up to the hype. We would preach tolerance and understand and universal acceptance, but never would we actually back that up by passing certain laws, or electing certain officials. Now, the whole world see that man standing at the podium and they say to themselves, "If that man can lead the USA, maybe there is hope for the rest of us." I suppose we will see where it goes, but for now I am really excited.
Well, that's about all that I have for now, my blogging muscles are sore and I have to be up at 7am, which is rather early for me, so we are going to call this good. If anyone has any suggestions for topics, let them fly. I've always said "Give me a topic and I'll bitch about it for a solid 60 seconds". Trust me friends, that goes for almost any topic.
Later.
To get things started in a good direction, I thought I would blog a bit about the recent election and how I feel about it. It should be obvious to many that I am absolutely thrilled that Barack Obama is the 44th President Elect of the United States of America! As I sat and watched the night unfold, I couldn't help but try to think back to the last time I really felt that proud to be an American. I suppose it was as a kid watching the astronauts go into space, and of course to see the outpouring of human kindness in the wake of the 9/11 tragedies, but as far as being proud that as a country we finally elected the right man for the job, it made me very happy. I hope and pray that the next four years will be the first steps in the right direction for our country as I feel we are on the edge of scary possibilities. Days later as I was watching the news and seeing the reactions all over the world to the many different countries and celebrations, I came to the realization that many Americans were not the only ones who had been waiting for our country to "do the right thing". This is one of the main reasons why I felt Obama was the right choice for this country. Let's face it, in the end they are all politicians and we can't really trust them farther than we can throw them; but in Obama I find a man that, while he may lack in years more than makes up for it in passion, intelligence and universal appeal. That last one will most obviously get some flack, but think about it for a second. The USA is look to by the rest of the world, at least prior to this election, as the big brother that could never live up to the hype. We would preach tolerance and understand and universal acceptance, but never would we actually back that up by passing certain laws, or electing certain officials. Now, the whole world see that man standing at the podium and they say to themselves, "If that man can lead the USA, maybe there is hope for the rest of us." I suppose we will see where it goes, but for now I am really excited.
Well, that's about all that I have for now, my blogging muscles are sore and I have to be up at 7am, which is rather early for me, so we are going to call this good. If anyone has any suggestions for topics, let them fly. I've always said "Give me a topic and I'll bitch about it for a solid 60 seconds". Trust me friends, that goes for almost any topic.
Later.
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