People say “Bad things happen in threes” but they also say “Karma is a bitch.” Well, I’m hear to tell you that only one of those things are true, at least for now. It’s been a long week, and I’ve only worked half of it. How long a week you ask? Well in a span of 2 days, I lost my wheels, my voice, and a chunk of my face. Where to begin?
Monday
Nothing screams good time quite like spending an hour getting lectured about female bodybuilders and their unique physiques. I later googled Female Bodybuilders Naked, don’t do it. I’m warning you, don’t do it. Your doing it….I know you are…you were warned….quickly click back! Click back!!!
So after getting the unnecessary knowledge necessary to understand testosterone and estrogen levels in woman, as well as what had become a combination of part sexual harassment seminar/part how to pick up a chicks lecture with which I was left to bike home as quickly as possible in order to complete my Google search, and subsequent masturbation (untrue), only to find that it would be delayed by one problem. My transportation, my wheels, my one true love (again a joke, or is it?) was stolen from yours truly.
My bicycle, also known as My Bike, was missing!!! Gone!!!! Vamoose!!! Vanished!!! Disapeared!!! Insert Verb or adjective about My Bike here!!! STOLEN!!! Now, I can’t say I am the best at taking care of my personal possessions. My button down shirts are used as cat beds, the floor is my hamper, I’ve donated (lost) two I-pods to the City of New York in the past month, and I locked Scout for an entire conference call as I kept saying where is that meowing coming from, but not checking (You would think by now that this cat would be used to being locked out). One thing that I do take care of however is my bike. I tune her up, I lock her, and I even whisper sweet nothings in her gear when no one is around. Needless to say, I was, and still am, heartbroken.
I went to John Jay security to investigate and pray that Ashton Kutcher was punking me (too dated?) but instead this is what I received. A video transcript on the security camera of the entire event enfolding in front of my very eyes which I will now replay in my best John Sterling impression:
“Beautiful Afternoon here at 59th and 10th ave, the concrete is grey, the building is obtuse, and Foxx is just about putting the finishing touches on his bike lock. He turns once, turns twice, annnnndddd locked! He’s off to class ladies and gents, and crowd couldn’t be more subdued! Next up, a perp in an orange jacket, coming straight out of Starbucks with a stolen coffee and a sandwich, you know, you just can’t commit theft these days on an empty stomach. You know what they say, a well fed criminal with a head full of caffeine just can’t be stopped, and by the look of his mullet, neither can the party in back. I gotta say, its gonna be a great day for grand theft bicyle. Our perp stands at 6’1’ of Latin descent, a bright orange jacket, and pantaloons that may end or begin at his thighs depending on how you see it. The white tee shirt underneath matches the faux gold chain that dangled on his neck, in his left hand he holds a white plastic bag with unknown contents inside. I’m no soothsayer, but I have a feeling that he’s gonna need to use bag if he’s going to attempt to steal. Our perp moseys around for the next fifteen minutes or so, watching and waiting for the right time to make his move. The street clears, and he makes his move. He is reaching in his bag! What is he pulling out? Could it be? Yes! It is! Lock cutters! And there he goes! With the movement of a veteran in still in his prime. He quickly cuts through the metal like Torre through a young bullpen; You know Susan some guys can really fly, but I think this guy might be fastest in the league. Locks cut, both in the bag! And look at this! He is on the bike with a huge shit eating grin on his face! He is probably high! Foxx is Far! And he is gonnnnneeee!!! Whadda-ya-know Orange jacket Latino!!! 1-0 Perps! And With a not so amused look on his face, Foxx sits in the dug out and quickly makes a call to the bullpen!”
Foxx: Hello Cops
Cops: Yes
Foxx: I need to fill out a police report
Cops: For what?
Foxx: Grand theft bicycle
Cops: Motorcycle or bike
Cops: Motorcycle or bike
Cops: Fill out this form
Foxx: What’s the chance I actually get my bike back? (already knowing the answer)
Cops: None
Foxx: So why am I doing this?
Cops: to be a good samaritan. Save the next guy, But hey, did you ever hear that Karma comes back at you?
Foxx: Does Karma put two pedals on my feet?
Cops: No
Foxx: How about a ride uptown?
Cops: No
Foxx: But I am here filling out a police report about how my transportation uptown was stolen.
Cops: No
Foxx: Cmon, I’ll even sit in the back, you can even cuff me, drop me off near my apt.
Cops: No
Foxx: screw you man, it’s like 50 blocks.
Cops: Maybe we should use those cuffs
Foxx: I’ll walk it.
And just like that, the love of my life was gone. They say the hardest one to get over is your first love, and I’ll never forget you black Giant bike with torn up handles and broken bell, never....tear...until I replace you next week with the same exact model.
1 down, 2 more to go.
Tuesday
Hospital!!!
Doctor!!!
F*ck you Ryan Franklin!!!
Hospital!!!
You also suck Frank Fransisco!!!
Doctor help!!!
Cats!!!
These were all things that I was screaming around 3:30 AM Tuesday morning as I was hallucinating out my skull on a concoction of Nyquil, Advil, Raman noodles, and a fever. Only I (and possibly Jon Pollack) could find a way to incorporate fantasy baseball into their hallucinations. The next morning Laura found me in the fetal position on the floor sweating, shivering, crying, and using a cat as a tissue. It was easily the sickest I have been since I have been a kid, and maybe I shouldn’t have ignored the sore throat at 2 am Friday night while forcing down some shwarma. I was at the urgent care unit by 8 am that morning, and was diagnosed with strep throat and a high fever. I was far removed from normalcy that I didn’t even realize that I had two needles sticking out of my arm, while I asked Dr. Park why he had such a boring last name? Yes, I asked him if he lived on Park Ave, No, he doesn’t. I spent the next 2 days watching 4 horrible movies, 1 entire non yankee baseball game (no money or fantasy implications on it either, pure boredom), 1 average book, 7 different types of soup 13 different times, 4 bags of cough drops, 2.5 liters of Gatorade, and half a gallon of ice cream, 15 or so naps, and 1 paper graded. Biggest surprise, not a single video game played, or a single relief pitcher dropped off my fantasy team.
Wednesday
A very uninteresting day as I spent the majority of it in a comatose state in between movies, except for one very brief moment in which I let Boo (other cat) use my face as a scratching post. Nothing screams good time like falling asleep to an unwatchable movie, in this case Dinner for Shmucks, which was so unfunny that the best part was the credits, and I love bad movies. This movie wasn’t just bad though, it was like the white coach’s son on the all black team bad. Even on multiple drugs, I couldn’t get myself to laugh, yet because the cast I also couldn’t turn it off. It’s not even plane worthy, and that says a lot. Anyway, in my comatose state I see out of my right eye a half squirrel/half spider monkey (Boo cat) flying towards my face in her normal game of tag with Scout. My natural instinct, being the superior athlete that I am, flung this animal off me, but not before her front claw scraped across the side of my left check. Leaving a nice superficial scratch from eye to beard that left me looking like the villain from a James Bond movie. Don’t worry Ma, its not deep, and I’ve treated it well, but dammit I….Look….Awesome!!! People cower from me in the streets, cats runs to the litter box, Mothers hide your daughters, Bodog lock my account, Scarface is on the prowl (pun intended) and looking to commit crimes of very minor degrees. Yes I will drink out of the carton Laura! Yes, I will eat cookies before dinner! PG-13 movies, No thank you!!! I have a scratch on my face Gosh Darn it!!! Thanx Boo. Please don’t scar.
They say bad things come in three, but I think I’ve come up with a new phrase, good blogs come from bad things. I can’t say my life is always that enjoyable, but it is always this entertaining. Thanks for readings, I feel like I dont say that enough. To all my loyal followers, your the reason I write.
No notes from the office or Random Tangents, I’ve given you too much gold already for one blog.
Artistic Photo of the Blog:
(8/25/09 Ithaca, NY)
Aloha means goodbye
-Foxx
