Tonight was certainly one of the more random evenings I’ve had in a while.  I got back from an afternoon of golfing for work (I know, talk about a way to kick off a week) and decided to try and fit in a quick jog before having to pack for some extended time away from home and hitting the hay early.  While on my returning leg home on the Trolley Trail, I noticed some news vans, a few cop cars, and a small gathering of people across the street.  At first I thought maybe there was an accident or something but the crowd looked too large for it to be that.  I asked one of the news people what was going on, and he informed me that Barack Obama was spending time at the house on the corner tonight.  I was stunned.  Tonight was the first night of the Democratic National Convention in Denver so, naturally, I would have never dreamed Obama would be in KC, much less in my neighborhood.

Realizing this scenerio was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I walked over to the small crowd to wait around for the presidential candidate. While there, the crowd was gathering due, in large part, to the invention of cellular technology.  Half of the people there were kids in the neighborhood while the others were mostly middle-aged and either calling all their friends or texting them like crazy.  Before long, the crowd of approximately 250 swelled to close to 1,000 I would guess.  Meanwhile, cop cars were piling into the area one by one to join the secret service.  Upon talking to a cameraman from a local news station who was standing next to me, he told me that Obama’s people were making this visit secret and that they specifically told the media to stay away from the airport.  His visit tonight wasn’t reported prior to him showing up, either, and even the neighbor who lives across the street said that she wasn’t told of anything beforehand.

I’ll be honest that it was a little annoying to wait around for as long as I did.  In total, I probably waited close to two hours to see the guy.  It was interesting to learn new information about his visit tonight as time passed.  At first, no one knew any details aside from the fact that he was showing up.  Gradually, we learned that Barack is friends with the family and visited them, went to dinner with them, and was planning on filming a live segment via satellite after Michelle Obama finished speaking at the Convention.

Soon, the motorcade appeared, and an SUV pulled up with some people in it.  I never actually saw Obama enter the house, nor did anyone else who was standing there.  I heard from a cop that he wasn’t going to come out to speak at all and that the best chance of seeing him was to head back across Brookside Blvd. by where the SUV was parked to see him take off.  I moved my way over there and, after waiting another 25 minutes or so, finally saw him emerge from the house.  He basically just stood in the lawn waiving to everyone for about 30 seconds and was off.  Some people were upset that they’d waited so long and just saw him waive.  I, on the other hand, was pretty pumped that I had a chance to see him, especially considering I was just planning on jogging outside for a half hour or so.  The only unfortunate part was that, because I was running, I only had my mp3 player with me.  I didn’t have my phone to call friends and inform them of the “secret”, and I didn’t have a camera to take pictures.  It was still a great experience, and I really hope he is able to pull it off come November.

The title for this post really isn’t entirely accurate because the “baby” in said title is actually my dermatologist.  The “back” part?  Well, that part is me.

I go to a dermatologist every so often to get a routine checkup on my moley self.  The dermatologist experience is funny to me because of how they try to make sure you don’t feel naked even though you pretty much are.  The very first thing they tell you when you walk into the little room is to strip down to your underwear and put on a paper gown that covers your body.  The gown is completely unnecessary, though.  It’s like a hot model wearing a robe to their Playboy shoot.  When the doctor comes in, he starts to examine every mole on my arms, then my chest, then stomach, then upper back, and then lower back.  He even examines my scalp (which is surprisingly quite mole-ridden).  It’s never a good thing when a man is done doing his business with you and you’re wearing next to nothing while your hair is a mess.

My last dermatologist was a woman.  I really don’t care what the sex of my dermatologist is.  It’s not like being a girl and having a man for your gynecologist or anything.  The weird thing about her, though, was that she would be all done scanning over my skin but would look down at my boxers as I was laying there and ask if I had any moles “down there” that I wanted her to look at.  Every time she asked that question, I wanted to reply with, “Well, there is an abnormally large growth there.”  Come to think of it, there’s probably some porno movie that begins with that very scene.  I refrained from making any comments like that, though, because I’m classy.  Regardless of the fact that I told her that I had nothing of concern “down there”, she would always lift my waistband and peek at my junk.  There was no examining anything at all.  It was like she just wanted to say hello to the boys.

This past examination proved to be a worthwhile one as the dermatologist told me that there was a mole on my back that may be of concern.  I’ve had a few moles removed in my day with none being cancerous so I don’t get worked up about it at all.  The thought that it could end up being bad news hasn’t even entered into my mind.  Half of that, I’m sure, is because I’ve never had problems in the past.  The other half of me feels that way because I know worrying won’t change anything.  I should get back my results in ten days and hopefully my casual frame of mind won’t come back to haunt me.

I went to Lollapalooza this past weekend in Chicago and would love to be able to start recapping a pretty awesome weekend.  It’s late, though, and I’m tired.  I also somehow ended up winning tickets to a screening of Pinneapple Express so I did that tonight.  I was a Freaks and Geeks fan and have tried to follow most of the original cast ever since then so I was looking forward to seeing the new flick from them.  In short, the movie was funny at times.  It’d say it’s an above-average comedy.  The most interesting part of the experience, to me, was the crazy security surrounding the event.  My friend was pretty much yelled at for bringing their phone into the theater.  The crazy security woman with an obviously twisted sense of entitlement sternly informed us that no cameras, video devices, or cell phones were allowed in the theater.  Once inside, security people walked all around the aisles to see if people were recording the movie.  I am not kidding when I say that I’ve never been watched over so intensely since I was in high school and took my ACTs.

Now it’s time for bed.  The first part of my Lolla wrapup will have to wait until tomorrow…

I meet with people on a regular basis for my job.  Regardless of how well I get to know my clients, I still make sure I’m pretty professional at all times.  Keeping that in mind, nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the conversation I had with a client last week.

I first chatted with the receptionist lady I’d met a few times while waiting.  When he showed up, we shook hands and talked about what all was new in each other’s lives.  Of course, half of this normally involves weather discussion which is really odd to me.  Anyway, he sat down at his desk and I sat down across from him.  Within a minute of me getting settled, he dropped a bomb:

“Do you like porn,” he asked.

“Ummm…uhhh…I…uhh,” I stammered while trying to pick my jaw up off the floor.

So he asked it again…

“Do you like porn?”

“I…uh…I don’t know.  Why”

“Well if I showed you some porn would you watch it?”

I kind of brought my arms up to my sides and shrugged my shoulders while nervously replying with “I guess.” Only it came out sounding more like a question.

“I guess?”

I was afraid that he was going to show me some hardcore video on his computer.  Luckily, it was an email forward that featured one of those rubber balls that goes under one of three cups and moves around a bunch to see if you can keep track of which cup the ball is in.  It was pretty much like what they show on the jumbotron at every Royals game…except this version had a dozen women shaking their huge boobs in the background to break your concentration.  Granted, it could have been much worse, but it was hardly the kind of thing I was expecting as I sat down in his office wearing my suit and trying to act professional.   Finally, after replaying it THREE times, the computer was turned off and we got down to business.  Weird.

Yesterday was my 28th birthday.  It’s always a little weird typing out my new age like that.  Anyway, I received an ecard from my friend Rachel that said this:

That’s some funny stuff right there.  I mean, I always wonder when I’ll reach that point where I stop keeping up with music and just decide to only listen to music I already have.  Hopefully that doesn’t happen for a long time.

It seems like every birthday I write about reflections I have on the previous year.  While the year before was about creating exciting, once-in-a-lifetime experiences, this past year was one of stability.  I suppose if my life were a book, the chapter would have been titled, “Chapter 27: Bradical Becomes an Adult”.  While I’m certainly timid to ever associate my name with the word “adult” (because, let’s face it, many people associate that with being lame), I think I just learned about some more about the important things in life while still trying to maintain a fun attitude about everything.  Year 27 was an interesting one to say the least.

So what does year 28 have in store?  I’m definitely no fortune teller, but I would imagine it will build on this past year.  In a sense, I feel like I sort of established roots in a lot of aspects of life, and I will start to branch out and “grow” more as a result.  It’s kind of exciting to think about.  I mean, this will be my first year since I was in high school that I will have lived in the same place year-round, have had the same job, or have lived in my home for more than one week at a time.  I had to stop and re-read that last statement a couple of times just to double check it and let that sink in for a bit.  It’s true, though.  That absolutely blows my mind.  It was a great past year, and I really can’t wait to see what the upcoming one has in store.

Being that I have lived in my house for over three months now, I figured I was plenty overdue to have a housewarming party.  I couldn’t think of a better way to do it then to throw a BBQ party at my place to celebrate the 4th of July.  The only catch was that people had to dress up to show their true American pride.  Being that most of the people I am friends with aren’t from Kansas City, I was afraid not many people would even be around to attend.  Luckily, there was a decent showing, and it was a pretty good time.
There was a ton of food and games of bocce ball and bags in the back yard.

There were also plenty of patriotic decorations around the house.  Even President Bush showed up to celebrate.  His hat read, “Love All. Serve All.” He truly is a man of his word!

There were dance-offs…

And there were sparklers…

If there is one thing I learned that night, it’s that full-grown adults still love to wave around sparklers and spell their names in the dark.  Hilarious.

After it got late, we migrated to The Brooksider to continue the festivities.  The only downside to this was that no headbands, hats, or sunglasses were allowed to be worn.  You also had to wear shirts with sleeves which proved to be especially problematic to my buddy Andrew who was forced to change out of his “America Rocks!” shirt before going out.  As for me, I still wore the shades until I was forced to take them off because I love my country even though The Brooksider apparently doesn’t.

I participated in Waldo Crawldo for the first time last night.  I’d been told that it was a lot of fun and, I didn’t want to pass it up considering I now live pretty close to the area. When you sign up, they give you a pass with seven different bars on it.  There are people standing outside of each bar to mark off your pass, and you could enter your completed card to win different prizes.  Though the event seemed a tad unorganized, I liked the structure of how it was run.  The premise of the pub crawl was to encourage patrons to check out different local spots around the area.  It was just a fun, laid-back way to have fun in the Waldo area.

The participating bars were 75th St. Brewery, Kennedy’s, Bobby Bakers, Waldo Bar, Waldo Tap Room, Tanner’s, and Lew’s. I’m a big fan of every one of these places because they’re all just very chill and aren’t the least bit pretentious.  What really stuck out to me, though, is how happy and friendly everyone on the crawl was.  My friends and I have all talked at one time or another of how Kansas City, despite being a Midwestern city, isn’t the easiest place to meet new people. A big reason for this, I believe, is because most people who live in KC grew up here, went to college around here (i.e. KU, MU, and K-State), and then returned back home.  In doing so, they end up keeping the same circle of friends from both and, thus, don’t feel the need to branch outside of their already-established cliques.  Waldo Crawldo was far from this case, I found, as everyone was socializing and out to have a good time.  To be honest, it made me even happier with my decision to move where I did because the people my age just seem very cool.

Waldo Crawldo was definitely not without its fair share of people watching, though.  My personal favorite was a random guy who showed up with a giant camera and acted like he was with a news station.  He’d walk into each bar, prop the thing on his shoulder with the light turned on, and the crowd would act up because they thought it was going to be on t.v.  My group was onto this guy, though, and knew he was faking it.  I talked to him for a while and he confessed everything to me.  It was kind of funny but also pretty darn weird.  I mean, the dude showed up by himself to a pub crawl with a giant camera.  He also let me take his fancy equipment for a test drive.

Attire was also interesting to check out.  Some were dressed up, most were pretty casual, and a few individuals looked like they had just come from mowing their lawn.  Some, however, wore red glittering belts to match their sparkling shoes.  And by “some” I mean one.

Overall, Waldo Crawldo was a blast, and I can’t wait to do it again in the fall for the Falldo Waldo Crawldo.

I went with a few friends to my very first fashion show this weekend. No, I wasn’t there to model some hot man-panties for all to see. I was merely a spectator at the West 18th St. Fashion Show on Saturday night. I never really thought I’d find myself standing around watching fashion nonstop for an hour and a half, but I was told that I would also be attending an “after-party” following the event thanks to a hookup of my friend Rachel. Having drinks with models at a party sounded like a pretty spectacular way to spend an evening so I was in without hesitation. Little did I know, the party plans fell through, but it was still a good time anyway.

The event took place on (you guessed it) 18th St. in the Crossroads District. The stage area was outside and took up an entire block. It sounds like that would be plenty of room for a fashion show, but it was actually packed pretty full with people. The emcee came out and spoke about how they’re looking to move to a new venue farther north but need to raise $50,000 to do so. I’m guessing that this means they’re going to try to build some sort of fashion dome or something. Anyway, the show got underway to the scene of a couple dozen people of all shapes and sizes dancing around in swimwear.

The beginning seemed a little unorganized as the models just kind of danced around while looking at each other and laughing. The woman in front of me turned to her boyfriend and said, “Maybe they could spend that $50,000 on some new swimsuits.” Ouch! Nevertheless, the show began and it was better than the start of the show.

I don’t know a ton about what fashion shows are like, but I knew two things for sure: 1) there would probably be some female eye candy throughout the evening and 2) there would likely be a lot of freaky, weird clothes.  The former was hard to really tell most of the time because of the makeup, but the latter was on full display.

That’s right, the dude is wearing a peacock outfit. I cannot imagine a scenario where this would pass as acceptable.

Hey, Guys!  What’s going on?  What do you mean what am I wearing?  Oh this?  I’m just getting comfortable.  You know, just another night at Hoopers.  Any of you guys want to play some shuffleboard?  No?

One person also wore a hat that looked like it belonged to the Tin Man.

The kids were pretty darn cute, too.  That is, when they weren’t being lead out hand-in-hand by an adult in a giant horse’s head.

Not all the clothes were bizarre, though.  There were some cool things, as well.  My favorite group was by a designer who created clothes that could change into other clothes.  It was like the Transformers!  Well, except for the fact that a pair of slacks turned into a skirt and not a firetruck…

The show ended up being a really good time.  Sure, it was a little odd at times, but it was great to do something different for a change.  It’s always good when there are things going on during the weekend that aren’t centered around just going to the bar.  I say that because I’m, like, really cultured and stuff.

Afterwords, our group went out to The Cigar Box for a little bit and ended up at Grinders for the remainder of the night.  Somehow, our friend Ashley told us that everyone thinks that her bird looks like a banana peel.  Not knowing how that could be the case, she decided to draw it on a napkin, and soon we each took turns drawing our own birds.

I easily had the worst drawing of the four of us.  It’s not even close.  My bird looks like some freak mutation.  And it looks like it has four legs.  Mine is on the bottom right.

Needless to say, a night that began with artsy concepts ended with something that was anything but.

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