I’m not a very classy man. I pretend to be. I like to withhold my “swears” in public. When my weight is in the acceptable range, I like to wear button up shirts (when it’s not – it’s a hooded sweatshirt. Guess what I’m wearing now). But when it comes down to it, I don’t drink with my pinky extended. My car has an ever-growing rust infestation, and, much as I hate to admit it, I’m a member of the lower class.

Years ago I was at a small cookout with some people I knew from MSU (one professor and a couple students). Becky, the professor and sweetest person you could ever hope to meet, had all types of meat to grill. I may be misremembering this, but she had steak, hamburgers, hot dogs and even the fabled cheddarwurst. For some reason, I imagine rednecks sitting on pink flamingos around a broken down Ford that’s been turned into a grill chomping on their hot dogs filled with cheese.

Of course, I wanted the cheddarwurst. And, of course, I hesitated. Don’t get me wrong, I would have happily eaten the steak, the hamburger, hell, anything that once had a pulse and blood running through its veins. Thankfully, some cheddarwurst made their way to the grill.

At the same event we were talking about our “bucket lists”. I don’t remember everyone else’s, but I know most were wanting to go to Europe or Asia or some other country.

My list, in no particular order…

1) Go to Kansas City (for years I’ve wanted to travel to Kauffman Stadium to watch the Twins because it looks so damn beautiful. Also, Negro League hall of fame is a bonus.

2) Beat Wizardry for the NES (Don’t laugh, this game is tough as nails. Finally beat around a year ago due to creative use of the reset button)

3) Make a feature-length movie (Almost, almost had this one finished a year or two ago, but alas…)

I know, aim high, right? Instead of going overseas, one of my goals in life is to make a less than 10-hour journey. Shit, I could finish the other two goals by the end of 2011. The movie wouldn’t be very good, but still… I could do it.

Lately, I’ve been caught in lines at gas stations where the guy at the front of the line is sitting at the god damn counter buying and scratching off lottery tickets. This pisses me off to no end. I don’t care that people waste their money on scratch-offs. In fact, I’ll buy the occasional lottery ticket myself. Even though my life’s work is 1/3 complete, I don’t have a lot of time. Especially when my cheddarwurst is cooling in my hand. So take your ticket and go scratch it at the back of the line.

Have some fucking class.

 

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