"Eric Lindberg makes my day" or "Unintentional Live Talent"
'member how all the Bullwinkle cartoons had 2 titles? You don't? Then you are a lameo. This is the second Bullwinkle reference in my day today. The first was the birthday of "Fearless Leader" Dave Gaudet.
I think I know how game fisherman feel. I started soothing the baby to sleep at 7:30. She fell asleep right away. I was thinking, 'great, I'll put her down and get some shit done'. I jinxed myself. Exactly a half hour later, she started screaming as if I had slugged her. Heaving and scratching and screaming. I got her settled into those little sighs kids make when they're done crying, and administered the bottle. After the bottle, she was an attentive smiling doll for 5 minutes or so before becoming a howling mess again. And so it went until about 9:30 when she went down to sleep. My wife thinks I'm doing something wrong, and I think I am too... at least it seems like it. However, she laid on the floor and graded papers while watching me and said I do nothing different than she does. Maybe the difference is phermonal. I don't know. Miette (the baby) is an angel during the days. At night all bets are off. I have nicknamed her Dr. Jeckyll snd/or Mr. Hyde.
She woke up and screamed for a little at 4:30, and again at 5:30 when my wife took over, thankfully.
So, after getting us both ready and her to Day care, I raced back and barely made my train, where I promptly fell asleep. I woke up to the embarassment of having the railing in front of me tapped by the ticket taker and his hole punch. I then fell back asleep 'til the train pulled into Union Station. I felt like my brain had been sanded down, and the leavings had run into my eyes as I trudged to work.
Just over the Adams Street Bridge, enter our hero.
I heard a commotion ahead that I frankly believed to be a fight. Through my haze, I saw that there were three referees, and a camera and a sound guy doing a live performance of the Miller Lite party foul thing. The crowd of passersby was pretty significant, and a throng of people were watching from the safety of the building at Adams and Wacker. As I got a little closer, I realized it was none other than Eric Karl Lindberg, Russell "I'm not George Hamilton" Hackney, and some black dude.
Unintelligibly, I blurted, "A rope, a tree, Hang the referee" (My HS football fan rallying cry).
I was promptly flagged and pulled in front of the camera. The exchange went a little something like t h i s:
Lindberg: YOU, sir. WHat's your name and what do you do?
Me: (at the HEIGHT of my creativity): My Name is Zach Thompson and I'm a Telecommunications Analyst for a large Law firm. What have I been flagged for?
Lindberg: You're not drinking!
Me: It's nine Something in the morning. ( I literally said "nine something").
Lindberg: That's no excuse.
Me: But the sun isn't even past the yard Iron yet! (Thanks, Mame the Musical, in which I played Mr. Babcock/arab party guest)
Lindberg: Yard Iron? What's that? Some kinda old-timey expression?
Me (again at the HEIGHT of my creativity): YOU're and old timey expression!
Hackney: Here you go sir, hold your hand there... (they then proceeded to cover me in Miller light Collateral; a Koozie (presumably for my cooze), some party beads with a miller light emblem, and the ever-popular fake bottlecap button with the flashing red LED light.
Lindberg: Now look into the camera and say (something about drinking responsibly)
Me: (Repeating whatever he said)
Hackney: Look into the camera and give us your Social Security Number and Bank account number
Me: Three... hey, waitaminit!
They then sent me on my way, and I saved a little face by yelling "I can't wait to start drinking!" as I left. I have no idea what it was being filmed for. I imagine it won't end up on TV, because I didn't sign anything. I imagine the outtakes of the people that freaked out when they were flagged would be pretty funny.
I walked the rest of the way thinking about shit I should have said, and how great it was to be knowingly Punk'd by EKL. Lindberg will be so flattered that I said I was Punk'd... he's a HUGE Ashton Kutcher fan, and the only person I know who owns multiple copies of "Guess Who" in case he burns out one DVD. I wish I could run into Lindberg every AM to get him to push me to my operating speed.
Then I got to the corner of Madison and Wells where this creepy panhandler is always stationed. He's never creepy to me, but when women walk by, you can see him lean in and say something to them. It seems like he's saying something lustful to them, based on his expression and body language, and the fact that I've seen one woman stop and tell him he had no right to talk to her like that. Anyway, on Fridays, he always bellows "Happy Fieday!" (yes, FIE day) as an attempt to garner more change. A stark contrast to his usual furrowed brow cup thrust. One piece of advice I'll probably never give him is that it's a bad idea to be working on a large Jamba Juice when panhandling.
At Washington and Wells I see Ross Bryant some afternoons, and we usually engage in a knowing nod and passing wordless handshake, and I leave wondering what other people think just happened.
I think I know how game fisherman feel. I started soothing the baby to sleep at 7:30. She fell asleep right away. I was thinking, 'great, I'll put her down and get some shit done'. I jinxed myself. Exactly a half hour later, she started screaming as if I had slugged her. Heaving and scratching and screaming. I got her settled into those little sighs kids make when they're done crying, and administered the bottle. After the bottle, she was an attentive smiling doll for 5 minutes or so before becoming a howling mess again. And so it went until about 9:30 when she went down to sleep. My wife thinks I'm doing something wrong, and I think I am too... at least it seems like it. However, she laid on the floor and graded papers while watching me and said I do nothing different than she does. Maybe the difference is phermonal. I don't know. Miette (the baby) is an angel during the days. At night all bets are off. I have nicknamed her Dr. Jeckyll snd/or Mr. Hyde.
She woke up and screamed for a little at 4:30, and again at 5:30 when my wife took over, thankfully.
So, after getting us both ready and her to Day care, I raced back and barely made my train, where I promptly fell asleep. I woke up to the embarassment of having the railing in front of me tapped by the ticket taker and his hole punch. I then fell back asleep 'til the train pulled into Union Station. I felt like my brain had been sanded down, and the leavings had run into my eyes as I trudged to work.
Just over the Adams Street Bridge, enter our hero.
I heard a commotion ahead that I frankly believed to be a fight. Through my haze, I saw that there were three referees, and a camera and a sound guy doing a live performance of the Miller Lite party foul thing. The crowd of passersby was pretty significant, and a throng of people were watching from the safety of the building at Adams and Wacker. As I got a little closer, I realized it was none other than Eric Karl Lindberg, Russell "I'm not George Hamilton" Hackney, and some black dude.
Unintelligibly, I blurted, "A rope, a tree, Hang the referee" (My HS football fan rallying cry).
I was promptly flagged and pulled in front of the camera. The exchange went a little something like t h i s:
Lindberg: YOU, sir. WHat's your name and what do you do?
Me: (at the HEIGHT of my creativity): My Name is Zach Thompson and I'm a Telecommunications Analyst for a large Law firm. What have I been flagged for?
Lindberg: You're not drinking!
Me: It's nine Something in the morning. ( I literally said "nine something").
Lindberg: That's no excuse.
Me: But the sun isn't even past the yard Iron yet! (Thanks, Mame the Musical, in which I played Mr. Babcock/arab party guest)
Lindberg: Yard Iron? What's that? Some kinda old-timey expression?
Me (again at the HEIGHT of my creativity): YOU're and old timey expression!
Hackney: Here you go sir, hold your hand there... (they then proceeded to cover me in Miller light Collateral; a Koozie (presumably for my cooze), some party beads with a miller light emblem, and the ever-popular fake bottlecap button with the flashing red LED light.
Lindberg: Now look into the camera and say (something about drinking responsibly)
Me: (Repeating whatever he said)
Hackney: Look into the camera and give us your Social Security Number and Bank account number
Me: Three... hey, waitaminit!
They then sent me on my way, and I saved a little face by yelling "I can't wait to start drinking!" as I left. I have no idea what it was being filmed for. I imagine it won't end up on TV, because I didn't sign anything. I imagine the outtakes of the people that freaked out when they were flagged would be pretty funny.
I walked the rest of the way thinking about shit I should have said, and how great it was to be knowingly Punk'd by EKL. Lindberg will be so flattered that I said I was Punk'd... he's a HUGE Ashton Kutcher fan, and the only person I know who owns multiple copies of "Guess Who" in case he burns out one DVD. I wish I could run into Lindberg every AM to get him to push me to my operating speed.
Then I got to the corner of Madison and Wells where this creepy panhandler is always stationed. He's never creepy to me, but when women walk by, you can see him lean in and say something to them. It seems like he's saying something lustful to them, based on his expression and body language, and the fact that I've seen one woman stop and tell him he had no right to talk to her like that. Anyway, on Fridays, he always bellows "Happy Fieday!" (yes, FIE day) as an attempt to garner more change. A stark contrast to his usual furrowed brow cup thrust. One piece of advice I'll probably never give him is that it's a bad idea to be working on a large Jamba Juice when panhandling.
At Washington and Wells I see Ross Bryant some afternoons, and we usually engage in a knowing nod and passing wordless handshake, and I leave wondering what other people think just happened.
posted by Zach at 10:10 AM
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