Search This Blog

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

The 69 Tale

I got my first real six string
Bought it at the five and dime
Played it til my fingers bled
Was the summer of 69

Signed the lease today. I also found out that they’re giving me $50 a month for cable! When I heard that, I had to double over and weep for a little while.

I then went to go and check out the room and take a visual of the potential layout.
I can’t wait!

I then went to check out what number was assigned to me for buzzing people in.

It read like so,


Of all the numbers between 00 and 99, I get 69, which tells me that ‘the curse’ is still in effect.

Story time…..

Twas 1996 and I was a sophomore in High School.

I was a huge Bryan Adams fan (still am) and I was even in the fan club..


I’ll wait….


Done laughing yet? Dicks


Don’t make me turn off the lights!


Of all the songs in the world and of all the genres, Summer of ’69 beats all in my mind. I love that fucking song! Short, simple, and to the point. Just that I didn’t’ get the whole point.

Anyway there was this shirt I was getting through the fan club that had a huge ’69 Just do it!’ on the front. At the time, Nike had numerous advertisements, which featured the catch phrase: ‘Just Do it’.

Instead of listening during Algebra or Biology, I would doodle all over my notebook and write Def Leppard lyrics, swear words, and the notebook would be littered with ‘69’ everywhere like any average school girl's would.

Like I said, I fucking love that song.

I figured that the shirt was just mocking the Nike advertisement. I never EVER thought it would mean anything more.

A little background,

I grew up in a fairly hardcore Catholic family that uses censorship as a means to block out bad words and sinful behaviors so we all end up going to Heaven. I grew up fed with values like ignorance, closed mindedness, and anything but freethinking. That’s in my opinion anyway.

For instance my Mom still doesn’t believe that pre-marital sex is being practiced let alone masturbation.
If there was such a thought, then you’re going to hell.

If you swear, you’re going to hell
If you don’t ‘honor thy mother/father’ you’re going to hell
If you don’t go to church….hell

And so on and so forth.

Anyway I was ‘closed in’ and very na├»ve!

This one-day in history class we were learning all about the fabulous 50’s and each student would draw a picture of something 50’s related. People drew ’57 Chevs, hoola-hoops, and poodle skirts. Someone wrote ’69’ over the poodle skirt.

Teacher comes in and someone asks,
“Hey, what’s that number on that skirt?”

EVERYONE laughs except one person, me. Thinking of this shirt that I ordered through the mail, the curiosity was killing me. I turn to the kid next to me,
“Dude, does 69 mean something I should know about?” The kid just laughs harder.

God damn it! I’m thinking. I turn to the kid on the other side of me…
“Dude, you don’t know!?” he murmurs.

I then turn to a couple other people… “You don’t know!?” they both blurt out.

“NO I DON’T!!!!” At this point I’m ready to scream my way out the door waving my arms wildly.

After that extremely long class I was getting a headache because apparently the ’69 tutorial memo got lost in the mail.

I ran out into the hall when I spotted J,
“Hey, what does 69 mean?”
“You don’t know!?” say’s J. The 100th time I heard this response in the last hour.


J then does simple reenactment with his hands.

Suddenly everything became crystal. Suddenly I just ‘got’ the other half of that song.

Me and my baby in ’69 Holy shit!

So after that day, all I ever saw was 69, everywhere!
License plate read 696
Drive to work on 694
Had to take exit 69
Robert Smith rushed for a 69-yard touchdown.
And a series of other coincidences that I cannot remember (remember any Hog?).

Now it just seems a little too appropriate that whenever someone needs to reach me, they gotta dial 69 in order to get me.

Some people wonder if God or the ‘the great spirit’ or whoever/whatever up there has a sense of humor.

Whatever’s up there, they’ve got to be rolling over this one.
*shakes his head*


Anonymous said...

Hold on...Picture Me
Ok...Picture Me pointing at you.
Good...Picture Me laughing at you.
Excellent...Picture Me thinking about your sorry ass in high school.
Tom your Good at this...Pictue Me laughing at you once again while telling you Bryan Adams does in fact -not rock-
Finally...Picture Me kicking you in the balls as further evidence to that fact you cannot be a man and like Bryan Adams.
PS...I'm laughing at you right now.

With warmest regards,

Boof said...

okay.. now im sure you can imagine me doubled over in pain from such a crotch kick...

okay...after a couple minutes i rise up like Marty McFly and press my palm up to your neck.

good... now I go Mortal Kombat style and rip out your jugular and start making a lassoo with it over my head like a cowboy

great... now I take that lassoo and whip it around the nearest bag of doritoes and drag it over to me..

Then... with one hand i eat those doritoes and with the other, jumprope (somehow) with your jugular.

Keep on truckin!

Eric Wormann said...

And you were making fun of me for being from the same state that Bon Jovi was from?

You probably own the Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves soundtrack, don't you.

Bryan Adams.


Eric Wormann said...

Conversation at work:

Me: Your total is $14.69
Customer: Fourteen what?
Me: Sixtynine. *chuckles* like Berg
Customer: What?
Me: Nevermind.