two posts. a second post. for second-degree burns. and bandaging of wounds. newer than the first.
So yesterday at the Club, a little girl spent 45 minutes trying to crack a password on the internets that she had no chance of guessing. From what I gathered, she has a stuffed animal that works a little bit like a Neopet. You can go online and register your animal, but each animal has a unique code that must be entered during registration. That code lies on the tag that comes with the animal. This particular animal, however, had it's tag snipped off and thrown away by grandma before the girl could write it down, thus her predicament. I tried explaining to her how many possible combinations there were even if we knew which six letter/numbers made up the code. But she would have none of it. Instead, she kept circling around the computer lab asking other kids what letters and numbers were usually in secret codes. Then she'd go back, try out five or six codes, and start circling the room again. Oh, and she was dressed kind of like Maid Marian. Which made it even more awesome, I mean tragic, I mean awesome.
Then later on, while driving home from work, I found that my trusty car could pick up AM radio from Chicago. While this trick only works after dark, and is battered by a thousand miles of static, the traffic report was such a familiar sound that I got a little bit nostalgic. Maybe that's not the right word (Editor's note: It's not). Maybe it's too soon for that (Ed: It is). But it just felt good to hear someone talking about the Dan Ryan and the Edens Expressway like nothing had changed over the past few weeks. And for some 9 million people, nothing has changed. That might seem funny to you, but being able to hear Chicago traffic way out in Vermont might have been the highlight of my night. For a second, the streetlights on Strong's Avenue felt a little more familiar. And the drove home from work felt a little more like, well....home.
p.s. Dear Detroit Tigers, please start winning games more often. I don't want the Cardinals to win a World Series and you are my only hope. Thank you very much. Your friend, Jonny.
p.p.s. Dear Eric B. & Rakim, you are the bomb. Seriously. I Know the Ledge.