Selection Sunday looms only two weeks away, and I know you’ve frantically been refreshing your browsers, yearning for Mister Faded Glory’s annual pre-tournament guide to Who’s Gonna Win. Well, sorry, but I failed you. But, as always, it wasn’t totally my fault - I was trapped, violated, and unable to finish – a shell of my normally confident self. (By the way; big win for Syracuse. More later.)
As always, Mister Faded Glory is the victim. Last night, Ms. Faded Glory et moi set out after work for the YMCA; eager to embark on our customary exercise routine. For me, I also was eager to play Wheel of Fortune, but that’s beside the point.
Perhaps I ticked off the wrong runner last week, shouting answers in effort to boost my own ego – because when I returned to the locker room just to snatch my sweatshirt and hat, I discovered my car, home and office keys had been snatched from my locker.
Certain someone had broken in, I frantically searched the men’s locker room, attempting to avoid the smelly old guys who apparently congregate in the YMCA steam room. (Ugh – I hope I never get to the age in which I’m OK with parading my junk around a sweaty-smelling cross-section of the middle class.) No keys. Nowhere.
Back in the gym, Ms. Faded Glory seemed certain I simply, absent-mindedly left them somewhere silly. She seemed to be composing a diatribe in her mind (Reminder to you: rent The Weather Man), ready to unleash any and all fury on my addled, bereft memory. But the keys still were nowhere. Back at home, after a ride from a friend, we drove back to the Y! M! C! A!, and stunningly, my keys rested on the ground. Right by the car. I panicked. Yes, yes, I am an idiot, dear.
But wait! I had to enter the YMCA – so my keyring membership must have been on my person. Aha! I dove into my car, and sure enough – my wallet was missing, and my wife’s billfold also was missing. Success! I’d proven not to be an idiot! Er, wait, all my shit was gone.
Back in the YMCA, we filed a police report, and the officers dusted my car fully for prints, bitching about the success of CSI the entire time. Of course they found nothing, however, a neighborly citizen a few miles away found my wallet, chucked into a random driveway, and the police retrieved the lost item. Today, that neighbor’s neighbor found my wife’s wallet (and badge, no less) and returned it to her office. Ostensibly, both had been discarded after the cunning pranksters looted our cash, and jetted off.
So there’s no real moral, nor any real interest to the story. Forced to cancel all credit cards, the incident still robbed us of the better part of an evening, even after it was apparent the nefarious misdeed was perpetrated by punk kids. And probably not girls, since my wife’s Gucci purse remained unharmed. How they picked the lock remains a mystery (or not), but the violation is sure to haunt me forever. What a heist! What a plan! I hope those burglars enjoy their cash. All (snicker) four dollars. (That’s two beers, but only during a Monday special.)
But at least the circumstantial theft is proof that I’m not an idiot (Well, not an absent-minded idiot). This rambling story as flimsy excuse for no basketball post, however, might suggest otherwise.
Regardless, all you’re getting is the replication of a recent facebook meme. No, this isn’t 25 random things, sorry. But because this whole theft incident reminds me of the time my kid brother left the windows open in my Beretta, and someone yanked the CaseLogic packed with 48 cassettes, dubs, mixes, and originals (running the gamut from EPMD to Hysteria) from the back-window perch, I’ve decided to open the can of my (totally predictable) musical inspiration.
Fear not, this post still fits right into my wheelhouse of narcissism, self-importance, reverence to tired grunge music from 1994, pointless-genX nostalgic whining, and a combination of all of the above. Here goes: The most influential albums of my music-listening career, reprinted from facebook. Please and enjoy.
- Huey Lewis & The News, Fore!
- Guns N’ Roses, Appetite for Destruction.
- Cinderella, Long Cold Winter.
- Bell Biv DeVoe, Poison.
- Pearl Jam, Ten. (European version including Wash and Dirty Frank, naturally)
- Nirvana, In Utero.
- Pearl Jam, Vs.
- Alice In Chains, Jar of Flies
- Nine Inch Nails, The Downward Spiral.
- Soundgarden, Superunknown.
- Temple of the Dog, Temple of the Dog.
- Metallica, …And Justice For All.
- Smashing Pumpkins, Pisces Iscariot.
- Helmet, Betty.
- Led Zeppelin, IV.
- Danzig, I.
- Mad Season, Above.
- Bush, Sixteen Stone.
- Singles (Soundtrack).
- Tool, Aenima.
- Mother Love Bone, Apple/Stardog Champion.
- Goo Goo Dolls, A Boy Named Goo.
- Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here.
- Weezer, Weezer (Blue). (featuring Susanne, if possible.)
- Jane’s Addiction, Nothing’s Shocking.
I read this after reading the blurb in the Salina Journal about the Hanley Heist. FYI, I too had the following albums listed with the # rank from your list: #’s 1, 2, I had Cinderella Heartbreak Station, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 12, 18, and 24. And no I didn’t have the soundtrack to Singles, but I did have the soundtrack to “She’s the One” mostly containing Tom Petty tunes.
It was quite the caper. For anyone else seeking to read the public account of the Salina YMCA Heist, it’s located here, super-confusing lede and all.
Also, people underrate the greatness of that Bush/Sixteen Stone album. Great stuff, and was my first real rock concert.
Are there that many John and Amy Hanley’s in the greater Salina area that they had to single out both you with the “J.” middle initial?
Probably a term of respect, because we’re such pillars of the community.