Mayonaise

            It wasn’t my first road trip with my dad, but it was the first that I didn’t enjoy. This particular trip was nestled between my Junior and Senior year of high school, a rotten egg waiting to crack all over my face. I knew it was going to be painful; I really didn’t want to go. I wanted to spend the day in downtown Lake Geneva or watching Cartoon Network. I told my mom and dad that I wanted to go to the pool or beach, but we all knew that my real interests had little to do with sun, water, or sand.

            That morning my dad had some trouble waking me up, I had some trouble falling asleep the night before, when he finally kicked me out of my coma he sternly urged me to “get my ass in the shower and eat some damn breakfast” Looking back I can honestly say that that time in the shower was the most relaxing and enjoyable moment of my day. I love taking showers, they give me a chance to critically think and reflect on myself without interruption. Anyway, to this day I can still remember what I thought about while that showerhead weakly sprits me; I was thinking about something that my friend Dick had told me sometime during the middle of the school year. In English class Mr. Hoerster had us read Catcher in the Rye; Dick said that the main character, Holden, reminded him of me. I told him that that was complete bullshit, defending myself by saying that “I don’t smoke or drink and I have never been kicked out of a school.” What Rich said next is what sticks in my mind the most, and was the main subject of my tinkering in the shower; he said that Holden and I “both suffer from an obvious inner-struggle.” Yeah, Dick is nuts.

            When there was no more hot water and my hands and feet began to hurt, I got out of the shower and scrounged my room for clothes that smelled clean. Luckily my Zero shirt was only a little bit wrinkled and my jeans were not too muddy, but I could not for the life of me find any of my socks. That meant that I had to wear my sandals; if I had realized how much I was going to be walking that day I would have used a pair of my dad’s or brother’s socks.

            As far as food goes, usually all my grandpa had in his lake house was Quaker Oatmeal, but thankfully my mom had picked out some breakfast cereal the other day at the Sentry. Although I sometimes enjoy a bowl of oatmeal, I was much more eager to have a bowl of Lucky Charms. How could I resist, “they’re magically delicious!”

            I sat alone in the kitchen for eating my Charms for about ten minutes, indulging myself with three bowls. I was slurping the last of the milk out of the last bowl when my dad walked in with a cooler and a stack of CD’s in one hand and the keys to the Toyota in the other. “Okay kid, finish your cereal and jump in the car, we need to be in Milwaukee in three hours.”

            I will never forget what happened when we got into the Corolla. I leaned my seat back almost as far as it could go and began to get myself comfortable, my dad handed me a Coke, which I tucked into the seat and my crouch, and then my dad began to go over an invisible checklist in his. With a satisfied nod he switched on the ignition, at which time the CD player kicked in and played the song Down with the Sickness by Disturbed so loud that it probably woke up every cow in the state. It was at the point in the song where the lyrics become really “disturbing,” if you have ever heard the then song you know exactly what I am talking about. Luckily I was able to take out the CD before David Draiman could go too deep into his rant; I would have felt awkward listening to swearing with my dad right next to me. My father looked at me with a combination of shock and disgust “I can’t believe you kids listen to that crap,” I singlehandedly defended my generation by pointing out the hypocrisy of my dad’s statement by saying that “his parents said the exact same thing about his.” My dad breathed heavily out of his nose and said to me “yeah, yeah, yeah” as if I had been giving him a lecture.

            Despite his tendency to be judgmental towards certain bands and sub-genres, my father is what I often refer to as a “rock guru.” My dad can tell you anything you want to know and everything you didn’t want to know about rock music. My dad and I could talk about the Who, the Raconteurs, Soul Asylum, Pumpkins, the Stones, the Dead Kennedys, Black Sabbath, AC/DC, Audioslave, Stevie Vaughan, Rush, Aerosmith, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Mountain, Kansas, Jimi, Cream, Elvis Costello, Dinosaur Jr., Deep Purple, Creedence, and Bobby Dylan until the cows came home. A lot of his knowledge has rubbed off unto me, although I try to remain non-judgmental towards other genres and bands. What my dad and I can definitely agree on is that the invention of music was the most important art created by man.

            My dad put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, while backing up he took the Who’s Greatest Hits out of the case and placed it into the player. Before he could shift the car into “drive” the song A Quick One while He’s Away began to boom through the speakers of the Japanese made car. By the time we reached the sign welcoming members to Abbey Springs I had already passed out.

I don’t know if it was the lack of rest or the Lucky Charms or both but I went out like a birthday cake candle. What came next is very strange; I had a bizarre dream. I never remember my dreams when I wake up, but for some reason this one dream has stuck in my mind ever since. I was hang gliding, when all of a sudden I fell off my glider and began plummeting down to earth. It was like I was a million feet in the air, I just kept falling and falling and the ground wasn’t even getting closer. Next thing I know, I’m under water, trapped under ice. I start beating on the ice trying to get some air when out of nowhere I see a fish of perplexing size swimming towards me.

Right when the when the fish was about to gobble me up, I was woken up by the opening drum solo of Keith Moon in Young Man Blues (live at the Leeds) by the Who. I could see that my dad and I were now on the highway. I asked my dad through grunts and stretches “how long was I out.” He quickly glared at the clock radio and quickly did the math in his head “Um, about an hour and a half, we’re about halfway there.” Sick of hearing songs by the Who, I began to fiddle around with the radio. I finally settled on a station that was playing The Middle by Jimmy Eat World. I then leaned back in my chair hoping to get some more sleep, but my dad was not about to sit in a car for three hours without a conversation. As my eyelids began to close my father forced open the blinds and exposed me to the new day. “Are you excited?” he tested me. I answered him with an undistinguishable grunt. He continued like he didn’t hear me, “your mother and I are not asking you to do too much, all we want you to do is check this place out.” I made no sounding indicating my attention or existence. “I know it sucks and you rather not go, but me, your mom, and Kelly all needed to do this when we were your age.” I responded to his lecture by saying “yeah, yeah, yeah.” But he continued anyway, sounding as if he had planed out this conversation in front of the mirror. “We just want the best for you,” he said, “and we think that this place might be right for you.” I decided that it would be best if I changed the subject, “have you ever heard of Coheed & Cambria.” The look of utter confusion that father’s often have came over his face, “who?” he replied. Satisfied by how easily he took the bait and unsatisfied with the conversation of the last couple of minutes I began to reel him in; “they’re a prog band from New York, they kinda sound like early Rush, and that Taylor Hawkins, the guy from Foo Fighters, has recorded a few tracks with them, I got a CD if you want to hear a song or two.” Apparently though I overestimated my dad and he wanted to continue the conversation; “James,” I hate it when he calls me that, “this is a huge decision you need to make and you really need to tell us what you think.” When he finished he put the Who’s Greatest Hits back in and turned to track three: The Real Me and handed me a Coke.

“How close are we,” I asked. My father responded with a hint of eagerness in his throat, “only about another ten minutes.” I began to tinker with the radio again, I settled on a heavy metal station that was about a minute into Dream Theater’s Panic Attack. “You know a few of your uncles and aunts went here, right?” he tested me. Of course I knew, all aunt Reen, aunt Katie, and uncle Tom O’Brien ever talked about leading up to the trip was how great it was there, but I chose to answer simply instead of making it into an argument, “uh-huh.”

We found a parking spot a few blocks away, they took us on a tour, gave me a bunch of pamphlets and a t-shirt that was one size too small. Three hours after we had parked we returned to the car, we got in; my dad gave me another Coke and started the car. He put in the Who’s Greatest hits again and the song Who Are You began to ring through my ears. As we left the parking spot my dad asked me what I thought, I answered “I don’t know.”

Yo mama's so fat, when she ran away, they had to put her picture on the milk truck.

Yo mama's so fat, when she hauls ass, she has to make two trips.

Yo mama's so fat, when she dances at a club, she makes the band skip.

Yo mama's so fat, on Halloween she trick or treats two houses at a time.

Yo mama's so fat, I had to take a train and two busses just to get on her good side.

Yo mama's so fat, when she ran away, they had to use all four sides of the milk carton.

Yo mama's so fat, she fills up the bath tub, and then she turns on the water.

Yo mama's so fat, they had to grease a door frame and hold a Twinkie on the other side to get her through.

Yo mama's so fat, when she gets in an elevator, it HAS to go down.

Yo mama's so fat, when she was diagnosed with the flesh eating disease, the doctor gave her 5 years to live.

Yo mama's so fat, her picture takes two frames.

Yo mama's so fat, when your dad climbs on top of her, his ears pop.

Yo mama's so fat, every time she wears high heels, she strikes oil.

Yo mama's so fat, her blood type is Ragu.

Yo mama's so fat, when I climbed up on top of her, I burned my ass on the lightbulb.

Yo mama's so fat, the back of her neck looks like a pack of hot-dogs.

Yo mama's so fat, she DJ's for the ice cream truck.

Yo mama's so fat, when she takes a shower, her feet don't get wet.

Yo mama's so fat, she can't wear Dazzey Dukes. She has to wear Boss Hoggs.

Yo mama's so fat, the shadow of her ass weighs 50 pounds.

Yo mama's so fat, the bitch jumped in the air and got stuck.

Yo mama's so fat, her lipstick comes in a spray can.

Yo mama's so fat, she sat on a dollar and made change.

Yo mama's so fat, her skates went flat.

Yo mama's so fat, when her beeper goes off people think she is backing up.

Yo mama's so fat, when she was born, she didn't get a birth certificate, she got blue prints.

Yo mama's so old, I told her to act her age and the bitch died.

Yo mama's so old, she owes Fred Flintstone a food stamp.

Yo mama's so old, the key on Ben Franklin's kite was to her apartment.

Yo mama's so old, her memory is in black and white.

Yo mama's so old, her social security number is 1.

Yo mama's so old, her birth-certificate expired.

Yo mama's so old, she has a picture of Jesus in her yearbook.

Yo mama's so old, she knew Mr. Clean when he had an afro.

Yo mama's so old, she's got Jesus' beeper number.

Yo mama's so old, when she was in school there was no history class.

Yo mama's so old, when she reads the bible she reminisces.

Yo mama's so old, when she was born, the Dead Sea was just getting sick.

Yo mama's so old, she called the cops when David and Goliath started to fight.

Yo mama's so stupid, she spent twenty minutes lookin' at an orange juice box because it said "concentrate".

Yo mama's so stupid, she put lipstick on her forehead because she wanted to makeup her mind.

Yo mama's so stupid, she thought Grape Nuts was an STD.

Yo mama's so stupid, she saw a billboard that said "Dodge Trucks" and she started ducking through traffic.

Yo mama's so stupid, she uses Old Spice for cooking.

Yo mama's so stupid, she thinks sexual battery is something in a dildo.

Yo mama's so stupid, the first time she used a vibrator, she cracked her two front teeth.

Yo mama's so stupid, when she took you to the airport and a sign said "Airport Left," she turned around and went home.

Yo mama's so stupid, she thought she could get food stamps at the post office.

Yo mama's so stupid that under "Education" on her job application, she put "Hooked on Phonics."

Yo mama's so stupid, it takes her 2 hours to watch 60 Minutes.

Yo mama's so stupid, on her job application where it says emergency contact she put 911.

Yo mama's so ugly, her shadow quit.

Yo mama's so ugly, she could only be Yo mama.

Yo mama's so ugly, they filmed "Gorillas in the Mist" in her shower.

Yo mama's so ugly, they push her face into dough to make gorilla cookies.

Yo mama's so ugly, when she looks in the mirror, the reflection ducks.

Yo mama's so ugly, her birth certificate was an apology letter from the condom factory.

Yo mama's so ugly, she looks like she's been in a dryer filled with rocks.

Yo mama's so ugly, she looks like her face caught on fire and they put it out with a fork.

Yo mama's so ugly, her mom had to be drunk to breastfeed her.

Yo mama's so ugly, she couldn't get laid in a prison with a handful of pardons.

Yo mama's so ugly, when she moved into the projects, all her neighbors chipped in for curtains.

Yo mama's so ugly, they rub tree branches on her face to make ugly sticks.

Yo mama's so ugly, her mama had to tie a steak around her neck to get the dog to play with her.

Yo mama's so ugly, even the tide won't take her out.

Yo mama's so ugly, people go as her for Halloween.

Yo mama's so ugly, when she cries, tears run down the back of her neck.

Yo mama's so ugly, she has to creep up on her makeup.

Yo mama was such an ugly baby, her parents had to feed her with a slingshot.

So, I'm taking a train down to Springfield since it's my grandmother's birthday. I'm sitting there and like most poeple I start to look around at the eveyone else on the trian to avoid boredom. So out of the corner of my eye I see a women holding a baby. There was no way to describe how ugly this baby was, whether or not I say anything the baby is still going to be ugly. So a man stumbles down the train and stops at the lady. It was obvious that this man has had a few, even the green stuff on the foor of the train knew this guy was a wineo. So he is standing there for a few seconds just looking at the baby, just looking. Then the women looks up and says, "What are you lookin' at?" The boozehound said, "I'm lookin' at that baby mam, that is one baaaaad lookin' baby. That won't fool anybody. You never need a babysitter for it, you can just take it down to the zoo." The lady she gets offended, she stands up and starts yellin' and hollerin', making a big scene. Then that guy who runs around the train selling one dollar sandwiches for two-fifty comes in. He gets between them and says, "What's goin' on here?" The lady points to Mr. Drunk and says, "This man insulted me, and I am not goin' to put up with it!" The guy says, "Hold on miss, here at Metra we do not want to have differences between our customers. If you like we could rearrange your seating, and how about we take you into the dinning car and get you a free meal, maybe we'll find your monkey a banana.