The weirdest thing ever to happen to me. A photo essay.

  1. I ask Mo if it’s OK to sign up for Rocky Raccoon. She says, “You can do whatever you need to do.” So I pee. Then I sign up for Rocky Raccoon.
  2. I spend several days wondering whether that was such a good idea. I think I also peed a couple of times. I don’t remember where. Or what color. Though I think I’d remember orange.
  3. I go out to run Sunday with the new shuffle. It has about 500 songs on it chosen randomly by the iTunes Magic Weasels from the 6,500 or so songs on my iTunes. I think to myself that I need a sign. Which is this. If “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles comes up during the run, I was meant to do the race. Incredibly unlikely, but definitely an omen of the most omenous kind. As opposed to ominous. I resist the urge to pee on the track. Catholic school, dontchaknow.
  4. I proceed to run. Ben Folds Five, Eels, Ani, Gloritone, Janis Ian with Willie Nelson (huh?), other stuff I don’t remember. Then I was down to the last few minutes of the run. The pause. And then the song begins.
  5. “Alex Chilton” by the Replacements. A fine song, but I’m almost certain I never signed up for the Alex Chilton run.
  6. I walk off the track totally bummed. But then I start to think (yes, this happens occasionally. Normally not on Mondays, but still.) I never really cared for that “Rocky Raccoon” song. The White Album doesn’t have many Beatles songs I find essential, except of course “Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my Monkey.” I decide too late that the true sign for Rocky Raccoon would have been if “Me and My Monkey” had come on. I go home and pee.
  7. The next day, I’m standing on the track. I hit the start button on the shuffle. The first song to come on: “Me and My Monkey.” This is one of 6,500 songs. The odds of it coming up first the day after my mental declaration are, if I ciphered correctly, 1 in 15,322,166,7qx,000,000$,@@@. Rounded up. Now I want pie. It is a truly spooky moment. I’m not big on signs, but there you go. That one isn’t to be trifled with. Not that I have a trifle.
  8. And that is the weirdest thing ever to happen to me. The end. Now if you will excuse me, I must go pee.

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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13 Responses to The weirdest thing ever to happen to me. A photo essay.

  1. Madiantin says:

    Wait. You signed up for Rocky Raccoon?
    Are you just trifling with us?

  2. tosuperstar says:

    Run Forrest, Run!

  3. Jenster! says:

    1 in 15,322,166,7qx,000,000$,@@@. Rounded up.

    Wrong. You should have showed your work. so I can tell you where you got off course. Considering I got lost at my last trail race I will not be following you. But I think I just peed my very absorbent adult diaper (it’s a work productivity thing) thinking I can meet you and Mo!!

    • show my work? that WAS my work. I am a journalist. We know not math. We just make up numbers randomly, then await the call from the college mathetmatician the following day so that we can run the proper number in a correction box on Page 2. Journalism is easy.

  4. iPods know things……..

  5. corc-o-rama says:

    seriously, have you had your prostate checked? there’s a lot of pee breaks going on here.

  6. I would kill to be that hydrated. (Amber achieved)

  7. theboojer says:

    Have you no love for Happiness is a Warm Gun? You do live in Texas.

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