Momma Said Don't Talk to Strangers...

Flying on airplanes is monotonous, one must create their own fun. For most, this includes bringing along a good novel or making sure the Ipod is charged. However, being an ADD child, I am bored by these things. Air travel should be exciting and memorable. Boy did I get my wish.

Here's the gameplan for my travels:
1. Check in and go through security. Stare down as many people as possible. Make them wonder about you. Secretly wonder about them. Admire cute babies.

2. Sit at your gate in an open area and let the people come to you. (Unless you've picked out a prime individual already, which is unlikely)

3. Let said stranger sit next to you and banter. Try to see how many times you can make them laugh. Ask specific questions. Befriend stranger.

4. If no friend is made at the gate, do not lose hope! Check out the people in you row. Screen for potential friend candidates. Befriend stranger.

5. Try to find out as much about them as possible. Make them remember you. Getting a business card is the ultimate goldstandard of airplane friendship.

Now, in my particular travels from Cleveland to Manchester you will notice that protocol was not followed. I firmly believe this is why the experience was such a disaster.

The night before my departure was like no other. I was in quite a state. I was still in a bit of a state when I woke up to leave. Before heading to the airport I was persuaded that it would be best to eat something. My stomach felt like burning acidic shrink wrap gone wrong. I ate a piece of cheese and drank a Coke Zero.

Mid-security check stare down, I started to take a turn for the worse. I didnt think I was going to make it through the line without getting sick or passing out or both. Finally, I was through and off to my gate. The farthest one, naturally.

Now I wasn't exactly late, but I didnt have my usual 2 hours of anticipation so i was hurrying along when all of the sudden the tounge-swelly, mouth-puckery feeling of devastation came over me so I darted off to the nearest trash can and almost puked in my Coach purse by accident. Bunches of people are walking by me like it was nothing. But it wasnt nothing, it was like a full body effort to expel any gastric contents that I had ever consumed in my entire lifetime. And I was crying. This real geeky guy walked by and paused, staring at me. I tried to smile and he said, "Do you want some water?" And I said "No thank you" but I was thinking "WTF water increases nausea" Once the worst had passed I looked down and realized there was blood all over the place and I just about had a conniption at the thought of vomiting blood.

At this point everyone becomes interested in me. Turns out it was just my nose bleeding but suddenly everyone wanted to help me out. The security guard tried to call rescue and some woman gave me an ice cube for my nose but I had become very aware of my lateness and hurried off to my gate.

Gate is crowded. I avoid all eyes. I feel like crap.

Southwest has a "no assigned seats" policy where you wait in line and its first come first serve. There was no way I was going to stand in another line but it didnt matter much because I was in the first boarding group and had ample seat selection. I chose the most isolated undesirable seat to purposely avoid others.

And then I hear a voice "Hello again!" It was the geeky man. Verrry awkward guy. I decided, what the hell, I'll be nice. Initially, conversation centered around my well-being.

"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm not doing so good."

*Pause while he looks me over and tries to decide which terminal illness I may have*

I knew what he was thinking. God knows I should have just told him I was recovering from a rough night. But once I told him I didnt know why I was sick, that maybe it was the flu, I didnt want to have to go back and admit that I hadnt wanted to tell the truth.

"Are you pregnant?"
"Excuse me?"
"Is that why you were crying?"
"NO!"

I managed to drift off at this point. I'm sure I looked like hell. I imagine he thought I deserved the beauty sleep.

I awoke suddenly. Dear lord. My stomach. I looked at him wordlessly with my swollen tounge and puckered cheeks and he sprang to action, grabbing a barf bag and holding it in front of my face while I held my hair back.

Gross stranger. Why would you do that to yourself? Why why why that is so gross.

"You're sure that you're not pregant??"

After this, he seemed to think he was my caretaker. He fed me a snack. When we unboarded the plane I went to the bathroom. I came out to find him waiting for me. Creepy? Yes. He took me to a newsstand and insisted on buying me a water. Now we are on some sort of a twisted airport date. Obviously, since he had a 4 hour layover he wanted to wait with me until my plane left.

All I wanted to do was sleep. He could tell. We sat at a little table and waited.

"Are you addicted to dope?"

*Stunned silence*

"If you dont want to tell me it's okay. I know that's personal. I went through a really tough for years, struggling with addiction. I know what it feels like to need a fix."

Ohmygodhelp911 save me from this stranger.

I moved towards my gate. Closer to the crowd of people. He told me to rest, take a nap. I laid there and pretended to sleep while secretly staring at him and keeping a very close eye on my purses. I'm getting ready to board. To fly away from the stranger, Bob, and feel safe again. He starts to talk about judging the character of people. I start to think about how I should rethink my ability to judge the character of people. He tells me I have something special. That he knows what secret characteristic defines me as an individual. I ask what he thinks that is. He replies as if I would be seeing him tomorrow saying something about how I will be enlightened in due time.

An awkward moment passes. I board my plane to New Hampshire. I do not speak to anyone on the plane. No more chances. You just never know with strangers. Too bad Hunter wasnt there to save me. Or to laugh at me while Stranger Bob interrogated me about my impending pregnancy.

pirate???

"katie caddle" (4:26:31 PM): i lubber you my pirate huntz

huntertvincent (4:26:40 PM): pirate???

"katie caddle" (4:26:45 PM): yes well

"katie caddle" (4:26:46 PM): lubber

"katie caddle" (4:26:50 PM): reminds

"katie caddle" (4:26:59 PM): it makes sense inside my head i swearrrrrr

huntertvincent (4:27:40 PM): hahahahahaha

huntertvincent (4:27:44 PM): awesome

Coming Soon!

"Momma Said Don't Talk to Strangers" the true-life tale of my travel home from Cleveland last month.

Hunter gets jumped.

This has been the first week of summer. I’ve moved back to my parents’ neighborhood on the near west side of downtown Cleveland where I’m renting. I love summer with the exception that Katie and I have been separated. Gasp! Yes, Katie has moved back to Maine for the summer. Does this mean that, due to our separation, random stupidity no longer exists in our individual lives?

Hardly.

A large part of my summer is to be spent working. One job I have is at a restaurant about a 10 minute walk from my house called The Flying Fig (www.theflyingfig.com). After a conversation with one of my managers last week at the restaurant, it had been determined that I would be working Wednesday, today, at 4:00. I walked over as the weather was decent. When I got there I realized I had actually not been scheduled. Awesome, a night with nothing planned. No complaints.

With nothing else to do at four in the afternoon, I started walking back to my house. As I don’t have an ipod, I use my sidekick to listen to music whenever I walk places. I was fiddling with it when I notice a car with three black kids inside drive past and make deliberate eye contact. Weird.

I’ve lived in the neighborhood for several years and never had a problem. I dismissed it as maybe… mistaking me for someone they knew?

Still, better safe than sorry, right? So instead of taking my usual route behind the local grocer, I decided to cut across the store’s busy parking lot. As I was exiting the parking lot I saw the same car had circled the block and was now pulling in. They yelled out the window to someone they knew. Whatever.

By this point, I’m walking down a relatively busy street. It’s lined with homes and an occasional restaurant, including my parents’ restaurant about two blocks in front of me. There’s a older black guy walking down the street with his toddler daughter. The randomness of the kids in the car is still running through my mind so I look around just to evaluate where I’m at, if there’s anyone else around, where can I run, etc.

Keep in mind, it’s still bright daylight out and I’m on a busy street surrounded by houses. What could possibly happen?

Famous last words.

I’m listening to music, I’ve got my sidekick out, probably texting, when the same car pulls up and parks across the street. I only see one person get out from the corner of my eye. He runs up to me saying he wants to ask me a question.

For those who have sensitive vocabulary, the following bit may be a bit offensive…it gets a little explicit.

“Hey! Yo! I wanna ask yuh a question! Hold up bro, lemme ask ya somethin.”

Kid 1 is maybe 17 and wearing a hoodie. I continue you walking but I say I’m listening.

“Yo dog, stop man.”

“What is it?”

“You know my nigga Jonny?”

Jonny who? Why would I, some random white kid you’ve never met, know your nigga Jonny? Polite as always, I reply with:

“No dude, sorry.”

“Hey man, stop. We’re uhh… conductin a investigation.” He pauses. “So yeah, put your hands up.”

What?! He has no gun and he’s obviously not in law enforcement. Kid 2 and kid 3 are now out of the car and standing behind me. This isn’t looking so great. I still remain optimistic, however. Maybe it’s because I know I have nothing in my wallet to steal…

“Fuck no, I’m not putting my hands up!”

This is when it gets a little blurred for me. I’ll try to convey the following as best as possible:

Kid 2 grabs me from behind so that I can’t go anywhere while kid 1 goes for the Sidekick. For some reason he just grabs it thinking he can simply take it from my hands. I, however, have just spent $110 that I didn’t have on replacing this phone and have no intentions of giving it up (my exact thoughts at the time). While this struggle takes place, kid 3 is standing guard and kid 2 has his hands all over my ass. He is groping me.

Are these assholes robbing me or sexually assaulting me?

Kid 1 loses his struggle for the phone so as an alternative throws me in a headlock. Kid 2, I realize, is attempting to find where my pockets are to steal my wallet (why this was such a process, I’m not sure). Kid 3 is still watching. I get out of his weak headlock while managing to keep my wallet in my pocket. A small wrestling match ensues where it’s just me holding on to my stuff with one kid making sexual advances on my ass with his hands and another kid trying to steal my phone. Two black kids against one, 150 pound white kid.

Something’s not right here. I’m not in pain and I have all of my stuff. Are these kids total n00bs?

I get shoved up against a fence, take a fist to the jaw and the wrestling continues. At this point, I just want to sit on the ground so kid 2 will stop groping me. Kid 1 has put me back in a headlock, only this time I’m facing him. What do I do? I swing for his balls, of course.

His pants sag too low for me to hit anything. Fuck.

Still, he gets the idea and lets go. I immediately sit on the ground and kid 2 backs off. Suddenly there’s another set of feet. It’s the Black Dad with his daughter. Awesome.

“Hey! Move on now! Do you want to go to jail?! From one brotha to another, leave this kid alone.”

Kid 2 blurts, “He called us niggers!”

Oh bitch, no you didn’t…

“Are you fucking kidding me?! No I didn’t!!! I was walking home and they fucking jumped me!” I’m back on my feet now and thinking maybe Dad has helped me out.

Nope.

I turn to see kid 1 swinging for my face. He hits me on the left side of my head and proceeds to take on his best fighting stance. He makes his fists like a six year old girl. Before I can react, kid 2 has his hands back in my pocket trying to grab my wallet. This was getting old so I shoved an elbow in his face. He didn’t like that very much.

Kid 1 grabs me and throws me to the ground and kicks me in the shin once or twice. Why would you kick me in the shin? Not the stomach or the head. The shin.

Black Dad has now become more proactive and they let up. Amongst various explicit remarks and complaints they walk off and I dash into the restaurant that’s literally two houses down. Thanks Black Dad, you’re my hero.

I wait for them to drive off, wait a couple more minutes, and then sprint down to my parents’ place.

As the evening went on, I realized a couple things. I’m not complaining but it was apparent these kids had either never done this before or just simply sucked at jumping people. I’m no expert on robbing people but there seemed to be some elemental flaws in their attempt:

-First, busy streets in the middle of the afternoon is not the best setting for robbing someone. Pretty basic.

-Second, when trying to rob someone, if you’re going to tell them to put their hands up, either have a gun or make it look like you do. Generally speaking, you know you’ve failed this step if the person effectively says “fuck you” and refuses.

-Third, if you’re going to mug them, it’s important to actually kick their ass. Usually, in the crime world, it doesn’t look good when a scrawny white kid can hold off two black kids at the same time. On the same note, when trying to restrain your victim, a loose headlock is not the best option.

-Finally, actually steal something. Ideally, the person shouldn’t even be able to hold on to the items in question. Either you threaten him and he hands it all over or you kick his ass mercilessly and then take the shit. If you suck too badly to accomplish either of these steps (repeatedly), you should probably stop robbing people.

The end result was some bruising, a broken set of headphones and a retarded story. I think this story is one I’m glad Katie was NOT there for…

Ritz Crackers???

As usual, Katie called me to go to lunch today. I met her in Leutner, our dining hall, and had another lame meal. Today was special though because there were waffle cones for ice cream. Katie and I both retrieved a cone and filled it to the top with ice cream. As the weather has been particularly nice in Cleveland lately, we decided to seat ourselves on one of the benches outside to eat our cones.

I drop ice cream on me, Katie points and laughs. We talk about sex. Katie says we're like Sex In The City only we're a boy and a girl and there aren't two other friends. Whatever, normal banter. Nothing special.

However, Katie and I are magnets for the most random shit ever.

While conversing, I had noticed someone riding around on a red Vespa scooter around the NRV quad. Odd enough but whatever, it's Case. Nothing here surprises me anymore.

Katie and I sitting on a bench in the grass in front of our dining hall. A girl rides up on the red Vespa scooter. As she approaches, I try to make out the decals plastered all over the bike and her helmet.

It's the Ritz Crackers logo. Wtf?

She abruptly stops the motorized bike, almost falling over the handlebars, and blurts out:

"Y'all want sum crackers?"

She says this in the worst hillbilly accent I've ever heard. I thought it was fake. She forces a huge, awkward smile across her face while her helmet falls over her eyes. Her ponytail flings about showing its horrible bleach blond color and she's dressed in khakis and the standard issue Ritz polo. She's the kind of girl that you see from a distance, think she's hot, then see the truth when you get closer (Edit: I've now learned this is referred to as a DDF or Distance Distortion Factor).

Not wanting to leave her hanging, I reply with, "sure, why not." She drives her scooter over to our bench, nearly hitting a large boulder on her way.

Side Note: I've had two scooters and they're not the easiest vehicles to use. If you're new with one, they can be scary...

She gets to the bench, tries to stop too quickly, and topples over, bike and all. This happens literally three feet in front of me. I've got my cone in my hand and I don't know what to do. Do I help her up? Do I say nothing, hoping to save her some embarrassment and continue working on my cone? What's socially appropriate when someone falls off their scooter?

At a loss, I mutter, "Are you ok?"

The satchel of crackers is on the ground and she's struggling to get her bearings...

"Daaaammit, I hate wen that haaappens."

Uh oh. This isn't the first time this has happened?

She manages to stand up again and grabs the bike to resurrect it. She's grabbing it by the handlebar and the seat. Unfortunately, she's grabbing it on the side that has the throttle control. As she lifts the bike, she is accelerating.

Just for a layout, there are two benches where I am. Katie and I are on one, and there's another one perpendicular to the end of ours. Ritz girl has toppled over parallel to our bench and facing the bench we are not sitting on. I'm sure you see where this is headed.

Before anyone can react, she gets the bike vertical and immediately flies forward and rams into the bench. She smashes the front wheel guard and pieces go everywhere.

"Daaaaaammmmit!"

At this point, she steps away from the scooter, leaving it running. I decide this might be a good time to intervene. I hand my cone to Katie, turn off the ignition, and with the help of another by-stander, lift the bike off the bench.

"Its ok, I got inshurrance. Yeah, yuh hafta have a motorcycles license for one of these thangs."

How the hell did you get your motorcycle permit???

I get a better look at her face. I realize that she looks like someone from Mad TV. Her teeth are crooked (more like gnarled than crooked), she has a horrible tan and her dark brunette roots are showing as she pushes back the helmet. She can't be more than 20. All this fits with the apparently legit hick accent.

"It's not mine. If it wuz mine, I be pissed."

Katie is still sitting on the bench. As we remove the lodged scooter, the Ritz girl proceeds to give Katie individually wrapped Ritz Crackers. That's some serious brand devotion.

She then instructs us: "Yeah, gimme them pieces. I'll put em in muh engine comparrrtment."

She packs up her stuff, slings her satchel of crackers over her shoulder, says her goodbyes, and takes off, narrowly missing the bench. We watch her swerve off over the grass.

During this whole proceeding, I hadn't even thought of laughing. As soon as she was out of sight though, Katie and I immediately looked at one another. We couldn't hold it in. I was crying I was laughing so hard.

Is this really our life?

Happy summer, y'all...

Kraft Macaroni and Cheese: The Butteriest!

Yesterday, Hunter and I went on a very ambitious journey to the grocery store. We did fairly well, considering our inability to act normal in public places. (Visualize: Hunter carrying two grocery baskets full of random stuff while I frolic down the soup aisle making up a song as I go).

Based on my spur-of-the-moment craving, we decided that we would make macaroni and cheese that night. We bought a family box of Kraft.

The family box stirred up a lot of conversation. We affirmed that we would make the coolest roommates ever.

By the time we made it home Hunter was too hungry to wait for the pot to boil so we decided to hold off. Tonight we made our gourmet dinner. Hunter protested violently when I suggested we follow the recipe on the box, which called for an entire stick of butter. I shut him up real fast with some sort of threat and we carried on.

Before I continue, let it be known, one of my greatest pet peeves is when I disagree with someone and they end up being right.

We feasted, it was deliciously comforting. Almost scintillating one might say. Anyhow we had a bunch left over. I got hungry for a little midnight snack and decided I would hit that shit up. So i microwaved it for like... 2.5 minutes? When it came out it looked a little suspicious. The second it hit my mouth I was amazed.

I managed to fry my macaroni and cheese in the microwave thanks to the copious butter reserves.

Don't try this at home. The cheese flavor was lost. It was a very unsatisfactory experience. The greasy fried noodles don't settle well. I, being the fat kid I am, ate the whole thing. Hunter didn't miss much.

Katie Is Violent

This is an updated list of Katie's weirdest and best violent remarks. Occasionally this list will be updated so be sure to check back for the latest!

-"I'm going to shoot you in the face!"
-"I'm going to kick you...everywhere."
-"No! Shut up. I'm going to stab you in the kidney!"
-"Do you not realize that I'm going to cut off your ear and send it to your mom?"
...followed 5 minutes later by...
-"Now I'm going to cut off your other ear and send it to your dad!"
-"I'll vomit on you."

Photos...

We have been getting exponentially cuter as time goes on... soon we will be supermodel criteria.

Pic again...

Katie Teaches Math

"katie caddle" (3:32:54 PM): remember that one time you made me drink 0.5(1/5) tequila

huntertvincent (3:32:56 PM): wait what?

huntertvincent (3:33:04 PM): .5 does not = 1/5

huntertvincent (3:33:13 PM): and i did not make you

huntertvincent (3:33:19 PM): nor did you drink the whole thing

"katie caddle" (3:33:37 PM): no its .5 time 1/5

"katie caddle" (3:33:43 PM): god

huntertvincent (3:33:32 PM): hahaha

"katie caddle" (3:33:50 PM): you really dont know math do you

huntertvincent (3:33:54 PM): its hard following katie math notation on im

"katie caddle" (3:34:12 PM): you see HT, the parenthesis can sometimes mean the same thing as x

huntertvincent (3:34:19 PM): fuck you

Naked Kickball

Sundays are study days here on campus. Today is on of the first amazingly warm days of spring so after mealtime, Hunter decided we would study outside. After gathering all of our appropriate paraphenalia, we selected a nice sunny spot on the grass. Studying was uneventful until Hunter left me. He had an afternoon engagement with his girlfriend and I still had no life so I stayed.

Now things get interesting.

Some kids throwing a football dangerously close to my head start shouting and pointing at a group of rowdy people playing kickball. So, I look. A very unattractive male is playing kickball in a black thong. Nothing else. Next thing I know some girl is running around without her shirt on. Festivities continue and suddenly the guy gets on his bike and is now riding around the north residential village in a thong.

This is why I should not be left all by myself. I blame Hunter.

Picture!

Hunter looks pretty in pink! -Katie

Katie looks stoned... -Hunter

Welcome!!!

Welcome to the Adventures of Hunter and Katie!

This is our child, our baby. Here we shall post our most ridonkulous and outrageous tales as well as stories of our day-to-day stupidty.

Some of our contributions will be mutual efforts, while other will be posted by one of us exclusively. It just depends on the story. :)

Katie is doubtful that anyone will want to read this, even though a lot of people we know don't have lives (yeah, that's you we're talking about).

Hunter says, "YES THEY WILL! Don't doubt our awesome-ness!"

Okay, Hunter...