These Boots Aren’t Made For Walkin’
I’m not entirely certain, but I believe that while I was sleeping, gnomes snuck into my room and scooped out my brain with an ice cream ladle. At least, that’s the story I’m telling myself these days to explain away the decided lack of motivation and utter inability to form even the most simple of thoughts. I’m just not quite feeling…myself.
I’d considered consulting Dr. Google, but then I realized I’d probably be diagnosed as dying from some rare and mysterious illness like “Ebola” or “Dysentery,” or whatever it was that killed me when I played Oregon Trail (by the by, the new Oregon Trail for iPhone app is not NEARLY as awesomely gruesome as I remember it being when we were kids).
So I’m sticking to the Gnomes Stole My Brain theory because it’s more glamorous-sounding. When in doubt, blame gnomes. It beats the hell out of dealing with actual problems, right? I mean, who wants to admit, “hey, I have no idea what I’m supposed to DO with the rest of my life; send a guidance counselor, STAT?” (answer: not me)
Anyway, I’m not overly interested in talking about it because it’s SO emo sounding and really, sometimes I need to take life a little less seriously.
So I went to the Chicago Auto Show last week with my family which is a Sherrick Family Tradition. I think if they ever closed the Auto Show down for some reason, my family would still go down to McCormick Place the second week of February and walk around whatever convention was going on (even if it was like Unicorn Lovers Fair or Charlton Heston Look-Alikes or something) because NO ONE in my family can handle change.
*whistles*
*flips hair*
*looks around*
Shut your whore mouth.
I’d been invited for the social media event the week before (which happened to fall on the coldest day in like five hundred years or something), but between my busted tooth and my double ear infection, I’d decided to skip it and go with my family instead. Plus, I didn’t know anyone that was going and I didn’t really think that going up to rando news outlets and being all, “LET’S MAKE OUT” would be good for anyone.
So, this is what I learned:
0) McCormick place no longer has storage lockers for rent which left me in quite a pickle. I had nowhere to store the severed head I’d brought precisely for those storage lockers. #awkward
1) The Chicago Auto Show had a hashtag and was projecting the tweets sent out onto a big-ass screen overlooking the show. I was glad because then maybe the people who ran the show could possibly look into alternate means of disposal of said severed head for me. Since the storage lockers were a no-go.
Social media = win.
(also: I did not realize that tweets were being broadcast until AFTER I’d been running my mouth. WHOOPS)
1) The American Car companies have done the best job BY FAR of working with bloggers, twitter and other social media outlets. I give them serious respect for that.
Also: they did not pay me a cent for that opinion.
Also, Also: I want a muscle car now.
2) For as long as I can remember, I’ve been trying to get a DMV picture that looks like this:
The finger-guns? HILARIOUS. The DMV does not think so and I have thus far been rejected. Or, at least, my pictures always make me look like a knuckle-dragging mouth-breather (shut UP).
This is the best approximation I’ve found.
I’m sad that I do not have Rod’s angelic hair, but alas, one cannot have it all.
2) The first thing my family said upon seeing me was not, “Oh hi, Becky,” but “HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE TO GO SEE THE GUY IN THE THREE WOLVES SHIRT.” So, you should know, Pranksters, that the Epicness of the Wolf Shirt has followed me everywhere. I tried to get a surreptitious shot of me with the guy in the shirt, but was unable to capture it’s splendor.
The Wolf Shirt, it appears, is both elusive and mysterious.
3) It is probably a very bad idea to wear brand new boots to any place that requires walking great distances even if they are particularly kicky boots.
5) Churros are never, ever wrong.
8) The desire for swag appears to be universal. I find it slightly baffling.
Next year, you’re all invited, Pranksters. Let’s get a party bus. I’m so serious that it hurts.
Did your dad get the street spot next to Cabrini Green to save his parking money?
Hahahahahaha. No. I bought parking to save my own very ill-equipped ass from being killed.
I laugh, only b/c I can relate way too much. You know it’s bad when your parents have had their car broken into as much as my dad just to avoid paying for parking. So worth it!
In a weird twist on the Dorian Grey plot, Rod started life ugly as a goddamn mud fence, and he hasn’t gotten any worse over the years. He may actually look better. And his hair is awesome. Asshole.
He has fantastic hair AND motile sperm. How do you like THEM apples?
I’ve never seen it accomplished in a drivers license photo but when I was in Grade nine our student council president managed finger-guns in his grad photo. He was all kinds of awesome.
I would LOVE to make his acquaintance.
Any blog post that involves Rod Stewart, three wolves shirts and churros is good enough for me. The gnomes couldn’t have taken anything to valuable
: )
Those damn gnomes, man. They’re ASSHOLES.
First time here. Yours is the last of the nominees I’m dropping by in the bloggies humor catagory -and EASILY the best. The pioneer one is more like Lady’s Hhome Journal than a humor blog; Bloggess mails it in way too often, hyperbole is terrific but only posts once a month now, and Regretsy is aptly named- I’m sorry I spent any time at that glorified catalogue for school art project ‘FAILS’.
You ARE funny, but after that rogues gallery of let-downs you could’ve posted a combination knock-knock/fart joke and won my vote. Glad you’re as funny and original as you are; I’ll be comeing back.
BTW, if you DO have any knock-knock/fart jokes you should totally send them along. I’ll leave the address to my own not unfunny blog. Ciao
Well, now I feel like I should know some more fart jokes. Good fart jokes are underrated.
Also, thank you, I’m blushing.
$1 churros from costco = always right.
got the finger guns shooting back at cha, Becky
Last year Joel was given tickets to the auto show and I reluctantly agreed to go with him. I’m such a good wife.
Thing is, I freaking loved it.
We went back this year and I had just as much fun. Looks like this will be a family tradition for us as well. We’ll so join you on that party bus.
P.s. That Hot Wheels/ Matrix thing? So fun. I’ll have to put our picture on my blog.
Seriously, it’s SO much fun, isn’t it? You think it’s lame when you hear me say, “we went to the auto show” and then you go and you’re like, “holy fuckballs, this rules.”
Next year, come with. We do China Town afterward. It’s fucking tradition, man.
It’s a date.
You sound kind of lonely, Aunt Becky. 🙁 Or glum. Or something. Something that is in need of being cheered up. Or maybe I’m totally wrong.
Either way, you rock. Those Bloggies are YOURS!
Yeah, I’ve been glum. That’s a good word for it. Glum. Down in the dumps. Haven’t been sleeping which is making my mood pretty foul. But thank you for noticing. Stupid insomnia.
*kicks air*
The convergence of awesome required to have you, twitter, and a car show in one place both frightens and intoxicates me.
You should have come with. Next year, man. Next year. You’d get along with my family perfectly.
Didn’t you get some cool swag from Blogger a couple of years ago. That you gave out to your loyal readers….something like business cards?
Yeppers! Well, the first year that I went. This past year, uh, I got, uh, hm, some bags, and well, I got a pen that has a floaty thing in it. I like that pen a lot. The bags are bullshit. Who wants a bag that says, “HERSHEY’S” on it? Not me.
Ebola is always awesome. Not when you HAVE it, but when you talk about it. EBOLA. Damn ebola-spreading monkeys. I don’t think they had ebola in Oregon Trail. But they DEFINITELY had forging a river. And you probably could have gotten past ANY ill-intentioned Indians if you flashed an olde timey photo ID like Rod’s.
Ebola makes you really feel like you’re special, you know? Well, I guess, only if you SURVIVE.
No, I hear you. I mean, I know I would feel the most specialist ever of my life if I were confined to a room where my parents could only hug me by thrusting their arms into super thick gloves that extended into my all-glass room. And, really, who hasn’t dreamed of an all-glass room?
The first auto show I went to was in Indy, and the only reason I went was to get the autograph of one Mr Zach Morris.
In fear of ruining such an epic day, I have never attended another car show. (Plus, I think brakes have caterpillars instead of whatever the C word is they actually have. People as car dumb as I am should not go to such events.)
I have two sons. In almost every picture we have one is flashing fingerguns, and the other Fonzi style thumbs up….every single picture
My daughter *always* does the Fonzie thumbs in photos, and she’s never even seen Happy Days. Well, almost always. She does occasionally mix it up with bunny ears and for the Very Special Photograph, jazz hands. (Which, for the record, don’t photograph well.)
I’m totally going to teach her finger guns.
I must just say that every morning when I wake up, I have Rod Stewart’s hair from that photo (though I never finger gun myself in the mirror when I’m looking at it). My “before” hair is Rod Stewart’s “after” hair. Maybe I am trying to hard to *do* my hair every day and should just go with the way it looks when I roll out of bed…
I once attended the Fancy Food show (which was amazingly freaking awesome) at the Javits Center in NYC. It was July and ridiculously hot and we, like idiots, decided we’d walk to the show from Penn Station. I had a skirt and dressy-ish sandals on, which *might* have been okay for wandering around an air-conditioned show but for walking 6 or 7 long city blocks in 90 degree NYC humidity? Definitely NOT okay. My feet were like raw hamburger before we even set food inside the front door. They hurt so badly that I was strongly tempted to walk BAREFOOT back to the train station afterward. Through New York City.
Thank goodness there were free samples galore of crazy delicious, gourmet foods and beverages to take my mind off my hooves. It was, after all, the Fancy Food show. And the sandals were cute…
So, to sum up: any sort of “show” in a convention center, be it auto, food or unicorns, requires Sensible Footwear.
Dang, when we get back to Michigan I will see about hitting that up. I can’t imagine Detroit invests the same in an auto show as Chicago.
ALSO, I started a new job the other day (you know – not today but that other day…) and wore ridiculous shoes, and I ran my ass off in them, and I just realized I have crazy giant blisters on the bottoms of my pinky toes. Dumb, dumb, dumb. …then I bought some badass black New Balance tennies that don’t look too much like tennies and they do the G.D. job! …Or I do the job and they make me feel much more comfortable 🙂