Looking Back: My favorite Bike

I shouldn’t have sold it. I wanted it back so bad, but it was too late and now I had to watch someone else enjoy it.

It was my favorite bike.

A couple years ago I had gotten this bike from a bike shop in Berkeley. I wasn’t even really looking for a bike at the time but something about this bike caught my eye and I was immediately captivated. I had to have it. The bike wasn’t brand new and it had seen its fair share of abuse and road wear. The brakes were a little squeaky making it a bit unsure of itself and every now and then the bike would wobble and become unsteady. It didn’t matter to me because I knew that with a little tender loving care this bike could really shine. I loved that bike, and I tried to give it everything it needed. Me and the bike weren’t perfect but when we went out on the town zipping in and out of traffic cutting through the wind we were perfect.

Then things started to go downhill.

The bike started falling apart. It could no longer ride straight and true like it used to. The wheels felt loose and the gears grinded as it struggled to make it up hills. I tried to oil it and patch the holes in the tires as best I could, but no matter what I tried nothing worked.

The bike was breaking and I couldn’t fix it.

I felt utterly powerless. I still tried to take it out but the chain repeatedly got caught in my pants and ruined them. The bike would stop suddenly and send me careening over the handle bars into the bushes. It came to a point where the bike was causing more harm than help. Regrettably I had no choice but to let the bike go.

So I moved away.

The bike stayed where I had left it and it broke my heart to know that I wouldn’t be taking it out anymore. We would no longer cruise about town with the wind cutting through us; we would no longer be the envy of the other bicyclists. Every now and again I would look up the bike just to see how it was doing without me. It had still not been ridden and was slowly breaking down more. The tires were completely flat and the chain dry and rusty. I wanted to go back for the bike so bad, but I knew I couldn’t.

Eventually the bike started doing better. It shined itself back up and moved to a new area full of sunshine and mountains perfect for more adventures and other riders eager to take the bike out for a spin.

I am happy for the bike but I still regret ever letting it go. I loved it, and even though it wasn’t perfect I thought it was the best darn bike in the world. I still look at old pictures of me and the bike, whipping about town—Starbucks trips and college adventures.

Oh how I loved that bike.

For now I am bike-less, and rely on my feet and my car to get me to places. I know even if I find another bike it still won’t compare to THAT bike.

Maybe one the bike and I will be re-united and have new adventures cruising about in a new town with a new wind cutting through our bodies.

I hope its soon…

Traffic Can Be Fun!

     Hey scientists and engineers what happened to flying cars? Weren’t we supposed to be shooting through the air at incredible speeds in shiny metallic futuristic flying mobiles? What happened? I’ll tell you what, every hour I sit in horrendous traffic on the 405 (Los Angelinos) and or 680 or 880 (Bay Area folk) the more I wish I had one of those flying cars.

 I hate traffic and for me it’s unavoidable because I commute and travel a lot. Never have I encountered worse traffic than in California. I had no problems in New York, Dallas, even Chicago. However, California, particularly Bay Area and Los Angeles traffic make me want to invest in a tank. Luckily I have been doing it for so long that it has become easier for me to deal with. I am going to share with you a few of the ways I deal with traffic.

I sing.

When I am alone in my car or even with company (it’s always better with an audience) it becomes American Idol time. I happen to have a vast knowledge of songs and if I don’t know the words I am a very fast learner. Singing helps to pass the time for me and also makes the car ride a little more enjoyable. I’m not sure what my passengers think but if they don’t want me to sing then maybe they shouldn’t be in a car with me.

I play games.

I like to play games like: Who is Picking Their Nose, and Who Just Doesn’t Care about Other Drivers and is Talking on the Phone Right Now? I also like to play, What is that Driver Thinking, I Wonder if They are Wearing Pants, and if its happens to be night time my personal favorite: Oh Crap, Is That A Cop?

I coast.

I have learned that the DMV handbooks were right and an optimal distance to follow another vehicle is about 2-3 seconds. This is especially true in traffic. Too often have I seen another driver ride the bumper of the person in front of them only to break every half second to avoid rear-ending them. It is ridiculous. If you follow a few seconds behind you can casually coast and never have to put your foot on the brake. This also gives the illusion that it’s not Stop-and-go traffic but –go-very-slow traffic.

I also don’t speed.

There is no logical reason to drive 90mph on the highway. Its unsafe and uses way more fuel than driving a safer speed(usually 85mph). I’m kidding, drive the speed limit and stay alive.

I ponder life.

Some if not most of my best ideas for basically anything have come from one of three of my favorite places to think. The shower, the toilet, and sitting in my car in traffic.The idea to write about surviving traffic came from sitting in my car in traffic. How strange right? I know I’m brilliant.

I hope some of these tips help you the next time you find yourself making awkward eye contact with the person in the car in front of you through their rear-view mirror. If anything I hope you at least remember reading this post and can chuckle about it later; while you’re stuck in traffic. Thanks for reading and safe driving! 

I'm All In

     Well looks like I'm in. I'm committed and there is no turning back now, I have decided to officially become a blogger. That's something I never thought that I would say. 

                                                                Eep

     When I tell people I blog I usually get the same reaction as when I tell people I am a comedian.

                                              "So what do you do?"

                    "I'm a comedian and a writer. I have a blog." 

                                      "Ohhhh cooool..." 

                                "I also write for televis-!" 

                                "That's nice, I'm hungry." 

     That is usually how a conversation goes when I meet someone new or someone I've known for awhile inquires as to how I earn a living (barely). It's okay, as an actor and comedian I'm used to being heckled and can most often roll with the punches. I like what I do and lately as I have filling this blog with more entries I have grown to love blogging. Moreover, as I get ready to start my usual summertime traveling I find myself even more excited to write.

     There is something freeing and exciting about being able to share my experiences with friends, family, strangers and whomever else may read this blog. It allows me to be creative in more ways than just posting pictures on my Instagram. Not only do my readers get to see the beautiful(am I pushing it?) pictures I post but they get to read about the awesome or not so awesome experience behind the picture. Even though I am traveling alone most of the time, sharing helps me to feel connected to home.

     Connection is the one of the main reasons I have decided to fully commit to this. I love human connection, connecting with nature and well, connecting with myself. Traveling and writing really help me to connect with myself on a deeper level as opposed to sitting at home playing video-games or watching television.

     Shortly I'll be launching my new website (which will look a lot better than this hosted one) and from that point on I'll be posting there. Don't worry I will provide links and keep you informed along the transition. I am also going to stick to a more regular posting schedule. I'll have more advice and tips, random stories, tales from my travels and helpful tips on how to be whatever you want.

      I am all in now. I am committed. I want to thank you for following and sticking with me this far and I can promise you it will only get better from here. Thanks for reading and happy travels.

How to Survive a Road Trip

         Since the title of my blog is AdventureChris I thought that I would start posting some adventure posts. So I have decided to do a weekly “ How to Survive” post, in which I give advice on how to survive various situations involving travel and adventure. Now, these posts are not intended to be humorous so please refrain from laughing.

How to Survive the Road Trip

In 5 Easy Steps

Step 1: Bring snacks.

           

Sure deep fried chicken wings, greasy cheeseburgers and super stuffed-grande-burritos are delicious but let’s face it, you’re going to be sitting in a car for hours and even days and there’s not much room for physical activity. Although, you could make “fit-pit” stops as I like to call them. A fit-pit stop is pulling over at a rest stop or safe location (not the side of the highway) and getting in a quick ten to fifteen minute workout. It should be enough to stretch the muscles, burn some calories and get the blood flowing. This sounds like a good idea but if you’re like me and sweat like a turkey on thanksgiving, no one will appreciate your “aroma” in the car; especially driving through the desert. If you have room in your vehicle pack a cooler with healthy snacks that won’t perish too fast, such as sandwiches without mayo trail mix or beef jerky and granola bars. Make sure to bring plenty of water too. Do yourself a favor and save some time and save your waistline.

Step 2: Sleep.

            So there I was, miles above the Earth’s surface traveling at mach 2 speeds in my F22 stealth fighter. Enemy bogies were fixed on my location and coming in hot! The enemy fighter plane at my six had achieved radar lock and fired one of its missiles. I had no time to think and instinct kicked in. I pointed the nose of my jet straight down and barrel rolled careening towards the mountain range below, when suddenly, a semi-truck appeared directly in front of me! What was a semi-truck doing in the sky? I thought to myself. Oh that’s right, I’m driving in my car so this must be a dream. I shouldn't be sleeping, I should be driving! This terrifying Top-Gun tale was meant to stress the importance of planning rest stops on your trip. Call ahead and book reservations at hotels and lodges along the way. If you feel sleepy while driving, pull over and let someone else man the helm for a while. Even professional truckers aren’t supposed to drive more than eleven hours in one day. Be smart and get ample sleep.

Step 3: Music. Lots of it.

           

       I once spent over ten hours in a car on a road-trip listening to the ENTIRE ( not by choice) Sherlock Holmes Mystery series on audio-book. When we arrived at our destination I found myself unknowingly speaking in a British accent for at least two days! Unless your car has satellite radio, good stations get harder and harder to find, especially as you head into more remote areas. Make sure to bring an ample amount of CD’s or update your playlists to be sure that you don’t get bored on the trip. Be sure to keep the music lively and upbeat to help prevent dozing off at the wheel. Also make sure there is at least one loud classic rock mix available for those moments when someone wants to talk about feelings or the funny thing their cat did the other night.

Step 4: Pimp Your Ride.

           

       Everyone has electronic devices, whether it’s an e-reader, a net-book, or a cellphone and we all bring them with us. Consequently these devices need to be charged and most vehicles only have one or two AC outlets. Furthermore, thanks to a particular fruit based company not everyone’s device uses the same charger anymore, thus leaving the option of sharing chargers out. Don’t be the one with the most LTE coverage anywhere in the United States and a dead phone. I’d urge you to pay a visit to your local electronics store and pick up a multi-port/USB car charger. This will ensure that no one feels the shame of getting left out of the electronic “watering-hole”.

Step 5: Roadside Service.

            It’s a good idea to make sure at least one of the people on the trip has emergency roadside service. Sooner or later, if you take enough road trips, eventually you might find yourself stuck on the side of the road, halfway between the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes; we all know how those situations turned out…

            Now you should have all the tools you need to have a fun, safe and successful road trip. Happy travels! 

Grocery Shopping

       Okay, so you’ve come home looking for something to eat and it just so happens that you have nothing in your refrigerator or cupboards. You have not even a slice of bread or a carton of eggs to munch on. So you get in your car and drive into town to find a grocery store to buy food. As you draw nearer to town you come across a fantastic store. This store has everything you could ever want. This store has an excellent deli, and bakery and only gets its ingredients from local and organic farms and butcher shops. This store also has the best and widest selection of alcohol you have ever seen. This store is perfect. But, this store challenges you. It makes you feel small and every single time you have visited this store you have somehow always picked the stupid shopping cart. You know, the cart with the floppy wheel and the handles that have been broken off. It’s not you, it’s just that every time you get close to this perfect store you suddenly don’t know where you are and haven’t the slightest clue as to what you are doing. Not to mention this store is a few miles out of the way. However, whenever you are in town you always visit this store and even though you may not buy anything it’s always completely worth it to step foot inside its amazing doors. So you drive buy it maybe because you are scared that you can’t afford anything inside this store. Its prices seem high and you aren’t positive that you make enough money to buy anything from it.

         So you go to the local smaller grocery store. This store had bright and flashy lights and signs for amazing sales. You step foot into it and at first glance it seems amazing. It’s got everything on your list, and they are all on sale! So you start shopping, and boy does it feel great. Milk, eggs, butter this place has it all. But then you realize… the sale prices aren’t sale prices. They are actually more expensive than that of the other store. They have just been marked down from an extremely high price so that they look like sale prices. You’re not actually saving money at all, and to top it off the stores coupons are all expired! The store has been playing you since day one! Angrily you stomp out of the market and hop back in your car and drive from store to store searching desperately for a grocer that isn’t going to price gouge you or worse: charge for bags.  You try the wholesale store which has most of what you need but in insane quantities that quite honestly, you aren’t ready for yet. You head into mom and pop stores looking for the things you need, and although they may have a lot of one thing that you need they simply don’t have anything else and you can’t survive the month with an overabundance of one item on your list. You have even tried the convenience stores but they are just too small and have only enough to last you a week or so at max that you can’t justify shopping there long term. So you go home, defeated and slump down into you couch and order Chinese takeout. But, you can’t live on take out for too long.

        You need long term sustenance, and the only place that has everything you need is the market that is miles out of town. You get in your car and make the drive up. When you get there you find that the entrances are blocked by carts and signs and you can’t get in. Maybe the perfect store saw you try all those other markets and won’t let you in its doors because you have the smell of gas station convenience store on you, or the stench of GMO produce on your clothes. You try and you try but the Grocer just won’t let you in. You try to remind this grocer of all the things you have bought for them and how you even helped them replace some of their inventory when they were running low! Maybe it’s because you used to shop at their sister store instead of them a long time ago. But this was before you knew of this store. This store is amazing. It’s got everything you want and although it doesn’t price gouge you it doesn’t let you get away with using expired coupons.  There are only two things you can do in this situation: you can keep trying to convince this store that you have the money to shop there and no other store has what this store has and if you were to be allowed to shop here you would no longer have any need nor want to get your groceries at any other store. Or, you can walk away and drive to the next town three hundred miles away and try to find another store like this one. Even though you know that it is just about impossible.
   
        You have never seen a store like this one. This store is big, but not too big, it’s got up-to-date features and has everything you could ever want. This store keeps you in check with its fair prices and ample selection. You love this store and were stupid to try any other store. So what do you do? What do you do? You want to shop here. You need to shop here.

I need you. 

This is NOT a Love Letter

     I’m not perfect and this is not a love letter. I’m not perfect I know. I don’t have the biggest muscles and I don’t have the nicest car. I don’t have the most money or even the most confidence. I am completely and simply human. I experience real emotions and sometimes they even get the best of me. I can’t help that I am not perfect. I don’t always make the best decisions and I am random and spontaneous, and a bit reckless at times. I tend to follow my heart and believe in living life with the utmost of passion. No, I am not perfect and I can’t promise that I will ever be, and for that I apologize. However, I can promise you that I will never stop loving you. It’s because I don’t have the biggest muscles that shopping for clothes for me won’t be a pain. I don’t have the most money so you won’t have to worry about it getting to my head. Even though I’m not rich, I am very good with my hands and I could build you a house, with a backyard for the stray dogs decide that this is their home now, a wine cellar and of course a hot-tub.  No, I don’t always make the best decisions, but that doesn’t mean that they are bad decisions! Furthermore, it just means that there will never be a dull moment! I’m random and spontaneous, so you’re sure to be surprised with gifts and presents often. Now, you may not always like or want them, and I may not remember where I got some of them but it’s the thought that counts. Right? I am not perfect and I swear this is not a love letter. This is my passion for life and love getting the best of me. This is me thinking about you. This is the fire and spark that I feel when I think of your silly smile, and just when I start to feel good about myself I think about you… Then suddenly I am human again; which is a good thing because this would be awkward if I wasn’t. Could you just imagine… I apologize, I got sidetracked again. I know it appears as if I’m everywhere, all over the place, and scattered, but when I am with you I am exactly where I need to be. I am exactly where I want to be. I hope maybe you feel that way too. Maybe you feel like I do, and maybe it’s true for you too. We aren’t perfect in our own worlds, but that’s okay because we don’t need to be perfect out there in the world. We are perfect together in ours. I hope this all makes sense to you. I’m sorry if it doesn’t, I was just trying to write you the perfect love letter…

Why I Comedy

    When I was a kid I was very small. I was just a mere fraction of this behemoth of a man that you may have come to know. As almost every man under the height of 5 foot 5 knows, being small comes with a price. That price is usually paid throughout your years in the form of ultimate wedgies, swirlys, stolen lunches and like clockwork getting pummeled by the local bully every Friday at lunchtime. Now, I have not personally experienced this, and I can safely say that I was a very small very skinny kid growing up and I was not bullied. At all. I do not know the experience of having my underwear driven up into my butt-cheeks, nor am I familiar with the sensation of toilet water bustling about my head as I am hung upside down over a toilet bowl. No ladies and gentleman I was not bullied because I had a secret weapon. A very powerful weapon at my disposal that I found when used properly and at the right time would render any bully defenseless. What did I have in my back pocket all those years of being small that made these bullies stop in their tracks? I had comedy.

         I made people laugh, and I was good at it. There was only one time in my life that I remember coming close to being bullied. I was in the sixth grade in the locker room getting changed for physical education class. I remember there was this huge thirty-year old sixth grader Paul, whom most of the school was afraid of. He had close ties to a particular Mexican gang and was known for his violent and destructive behavior. On this day he decided that he would try to pick on the new kid (me) at the school. Halfway through getting my shirt on, Paul walks up behind me and says in his loud boisterous voice, “Hey man! That’s my locker. You’re using my locker.”              

 “Oh yeah?” I say, turning around. “Well, it’s all yours man, oh and I left your mom’s panties in there because she forgot them at my house. I figure you could give them back to her for me.” I moved to the side so he could see the white cotton floral patterned pair of women’s underwear hanging in the locker. Don’t ask me why I had a pair of women’s panties on me at the time, that’s a different story. I just stood there before him silently waiting for the pummeling that was sure to come as everyone burst into laughter around us. But, there was no pummeling. He stared at me in shock for a few seconds and then what he said next surprised even his own goons! “You know what man? You’re alright.” And with a huge pat on the back I became part of his gang. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to join a gang in the sixth grade, but it sure beat the hell out of getting bullied.

          Comedy has always been my way out. It has been there for me in times of sadness and despair, and times of happiness and joy. Comedy has always been my way to connect with people from all walks of life. I am blessed to be able to make a semi-living from my jokes. They say that mathematics is the language of the universe; I disagree. I think that comedy is the language of the universe. You may not be able to prove that black holes exist or string theory is viable but how awesome would it be if you made an alien laugh? If I landed on a planet in a distant galaxy I wouldn’t want to be greeted by a bunch of numbers and flashy lights. No, I want to see a man smash a watermelon with a huge wooden mallet, or hear about the elusive Deerbra. I want to laugh before I eventually destroy your planet and rob it of its resources. Why do you think aliens never abduct scientists, or mathematicians? They always seem to go for the dumbest, most red-neck, completely oblivious people…

Writer's Blocked: Episode 4

And just like that a perfect afternoon was ruined. Mike wormed his way into the booth right next to Alice. He put his arm around her and gave her a huge and very unnecessary squeeze. She looked annoyed and tried to shrug him off. “Didn’t you already eat lunch today Mike?” Craig said squirming in the booth trying to make more room. “I had a few bagels earlier yes.” Mike said a little embarrassed. “You had 6! You had 6 bagels right before we left!” Craig shouted, Mike was starting to pout, “That is absolutely NOT true-I only had 2.”

“We all saw you Mike. You were covered in cream cheese, and singing Lady Gaga with your mouth full of asiago crumbs!”

“Okay guys, If Mike wants to have another lunch let’s just let him, as long as he pays for everyone else too.” I said hoping to diffuse the tension between Craig and Mike, and also get a little something out of it. “You got it! Thanks Christian!” Mike said gleefully. He then proceeded to stuff a handful of chips into his mouth.  I tried not to gag. “So this is great news right?” said Joe. He was referring to our show getting picked up for the season. We had all been on edge since the premier because we weren’t sure if the Network’s idea to bring Phil Armstrong back to television was the right choice. Phil had been a legend in television almost 30 years ago. He was the golden boy of comedy, getting his start on the very famous very funny television show News Soup. News Soup was one of the longest running sitcoms to date, and after 15 very successful seasons it finally ended in 1994. “Hell yeah, I never thought that we would make it past the pilot. Especially considering how little work we actually do.”

“Whoa Vince, back it up. I happen to work really hard. I’m pretty much the backbone of this operation. “Craig retorted. “ What?” I have to say something. “No you aren’t! Craig, every time we need you we can’t find you!”

“That’s a lie! That’s because I happen to have very important things to do.”

“Everyone knows it's because you’re sleeping under your desk Craig.”

“I have a very temperamental cat! I don’t get a lot of sleep at night!” Craig cries.

“What? What does- how does that even make sense?”

Mike has signaled our waiter for another round of drinks. Alice decides to chime in. “ Vince is always reading his little comic books at his cubicle.”

“They aren’t comics they are graphic novels.” Vince corrects her. The shots come to the table and we each eagerly grab one and quickly slam it back. “I’m pretty sure they are comics.” Says Alice as she reaches for more chips. “Nerd!” yells Mike. He looks around the room confused as if no one at the table had an idea who yelled that.  Everyone stops eating. We all look at Mike. He looks back at us like a sad cow next in line to be slaughtered. Before the onslaught of insults can begin, Vince checks his watch and shouts “Crap! We gotta get back to the office!” Mike lets out a deep sigh of relief. He is spared for now. One by one we stumble out of the booth and make our way out of the restaurant. “See ya tomorrow guys!” Yells Jake, as we are leaving. We seriously have to find a new place to go…

I Am Not Smooth

Despite what you may think I am not as smooth as it would appear. Sure I can get on a stage and make a fool of myself telling jokes or acting like a seventeenth century Shakespearean baseball player [its an improv thing] but when it comes to talking to women, I am horrible. I can go from James Bond charming a room of writers and producers, and have them eating out of the palm of my hand, to Gold Bond, medicated cream. Yes, I am aware that reference makes no sense in the analogy, however it does draw an accurate depiction of my skills at conversing with the opposite sex. It's weird and gross leaves you sticky and Shaq endorses it...see what I mean? Lets start from the beginning, and you'll soon see what I am talking about.

THE OPENING: 
 Most people can agree that the best opening for meeting someone is " Hi my name is-" followed by a handshake or fist bump depending on what part of Los Angeles you are in. That part is fine. Where I have trouble is what follows.

THE INTERVIEW: 
" So what do you do?" is one of the most common questions in the dating world. This is where I lose people. When most people hear Comedian, I become a trained monkey, specifically there for the sole purpose of entertaining them and their friends. " Go ahead funny guy, tell me a joke!"
"Make me laugh!"
" Lets hear your set funny guy!"
" Stand on your head! Juggle! Dance monkey DANCE!" which is quickly followed by " Oh my God, you know who's funny? Kevin Hart." That's when its all over. Now for the rest of the night I'm telling  jokes about my checking and savings account and talking about the kids I don't have, and going on about my father's huge penis. The second option I could go with is actor. Their follow up: " So what restaurant do you work at?" Its a losing battle. So obviously my answer is: " What do I do? Oh, I'm a doctor." Win.

THE CONVERSATION: 
I once held a full on conversation with a brick for 3 days. I'm good here.

THE CLOSING: 
By now hopefully I have managed to make her laugh and smile and the night is turning out to be a great success. The bar is winding down and it is time to close. Keep in mind I'm not talking about sex. A close could be a future first date, a phone number, an e-mail, a glass slipper; anything really. When it comes to closing I am like Reggie Bush; figure skating. Awkward, slow, and wearing uncomfortably revealing tights. I once had a really good two hour long conversation with a woman at a bar and when it was done she said " Aren't you going to ask me my name?" I froze. She got up shook my hand, gave me a wink and walked away. I ordered another gin-and-tonic, went into the bathroom and wept. I never know what to say. Do I ask for an email? Do people still email? Do I ask for her number and then ask her if she'd like to continue the conversation in my van? Do I ask for her Facebook or Instagram account? What are the rules? My closing skills definitely need refinement. I am about as good at closing as

Writer's Blocked: Episode 1.

    “So that’s when the bird poops on his shoulder causing him to careen off the side of the road into the hot dog stand!” That was my great idea. I cant believe I just said that. As soon as the words left my mouth I thought “ Oh man, what an idiot. Why would you even say something like that Christian?” The blank stares from the other writers around the table seemed to confirm my thoughts. “ That’s great Christian, but I think we all like Bill’s idea about the giant inflatable crocodile.” My boss said with a confused look on his face. "Stupid Bill. Who wants to see another inflatable crocodile scene?” I thought to myself. “Let’s get out of the ninety’s Bill-with-your-stupid-sweater-vest-over-your-Fred-Perry-polo-shirt, and your jorts“. We all sat around the table trying to brainstorm some more ideas for next weeks show. The network had just switched our show from Monday nights to Thursday nights and today was Saturday, which meant no one wanted to be here.
    “Can we go home now? I think we have enough and my nose is runny and my knees are locking up.” Exclaimed a small voice from near the back of the room.
“ Shut-up Karl! No one cares right now.” Everyone seemed to shout simultaneously. Karl was Jewish, but not really. His last name just had a lot of z’s, e’s and i’s in it, and nobody quite knew how to pronounce it. I slouched back in my chair and the room continued on like this for another 2 hours. We all shouted out our ideas, laughed at the hilarious ones, cocked our heads to the side and let out an audible hmmmmm at the not so good ones, and of course everyone shut down Karl. Finally it was lunch time. With loud groans and grunts and a few quiet farts from Karl, we all rose up out of our chairs. “ What is everyone doing for lunch?” I asked. “Hopefully paying for me.” I said inside my head. Suddenly from down the hall startling everyone came:
“HAPPY HOUR!”
Oh sh**, was the look that appeared on everyone’s face. The group all stared at each other and thought at the exact same time: “ Oh no, not Mike. Anyone but Mike.”