Ink-a-Binky-a-Bottle-of-Ink, You-Owe-Me-$81.80 and You Stink!

Most of the time, I advise people to let things go. I can hold a grudge as well as the next person, but I also recognize the fact that sometimes it's best to just let it be, not to re-hash old negative memories, or bring up grievous wrongs from years ago. It's just not healthy to do this. You have to admit, it's sound advice. And it generally works -- unless you happen to have a roommate that still owes you $81.80 in bills he never paid.

In Manhattan, KS there is a magical place known affectionately as 1215 Bertrand St. Apt. #4. This three-level, four-bedroom, two-bath townhouse is part of an apartment complex that sits on the eastern edge of the Kansas State University campus. The "apartment" was awesome. The location was awesome. And at $700 a month split four ways, the rent was more than awesome. My sister moved in there in 1986. When she moved out three years later, my brother moved in. Three years later, I moved in for one year with my brother and then lived there for several more years with a variety of roommates. If you do the math, I'm pretty sure that my parents own that place.

When I finally got my chance to be the Lord of 1215 Bertrand #4 Manor, I set about trying to find some roommates who would uphold the tradition of general awesomeness. I immediately locked down the aforementioned future members of Used Paint, Chris and Roommate Tad. We had worked together at Dillons for years, knew each other well, and they were easy to get along with. Chris was already at KSU and had lived in the dorm his first year. Tad was transferring to KSU from JCCC. We had plans for bacchanals, shenanigans, and general tomfoolery that would make Animal House Jealous (sidebar: we had a habit of telling people that the town house was our frat house. We were in Sigma Omega Beta -- think it through). We had nothing to look forward to but a spectacular year.

The problem was that we had a four bedroom place, but only three roommates. A friend of a friend was brought aboard, but when I moved some stuff in during July, I found a note that he had changed his mind and was moving back home. So we went into panic mode. Finally Roommate Tad informed us that he thought we had a roommate. It was someone he worked with who was also transferring to KSU from JCCC. We met briefly. He agreed to move in. Crisis averted!!! Everything was good...or so we thought.

Before I go much further, I will admit that since we were still pretty immature at this point in time, Chris and I took to calling our fourth roomie Binky, because he bore more than a slight resemblance to the Binky the Rabbit character in Matt Groenig's "Life is Hell" comic strip (see exhibit A at the beginning of this post). Yeah, it wasn't very nice. But neither was living with Binky. Henceforth, for the remainder of this blog, Roommate #4 will be referred to as Binky.

When Binky moved in, it wasn't bad. He had a computer, which was a pretty big deal in 1993. He had Leisure Suit Larry on the computer. He had a VCR, which we did not have to go with the TV Roommate Tad had brought. There were lots of positives to having Binky around. Then we learned that he had no intentions whatsoever of sharing any of these goodies with us.

As a matter of fact, one of the first things he did was to put a lock on his bedroom door. A keyed lock so he could lock up his bedroom door every weekend when he went home to "see his girlfriend" who we all knew was dating someone else. It was mildly humorous to sit and listen to him talk about said "girlfriend" while Roommate Tad stood behind him shaking his head sadly, revealing the truth to the rest of us. He never shared any of his cool stuff. I won't mention how he didn't share the VCR, because it still makes me angry. It also makes Chris angry, and I'm pretty sure if I could find him, Roommate Tad is also still angry. We did get treated to a demonstration of Leisure Suit Larry on the computer once, because at some point you could do something to make a 16-bit image of a woman take her top off. It was lame, even back then.

In addition to being selfish with his things, Binky was also a bit of a slob. His room smelled funny. I'm pretty sure he smelled funny, too, and he was more of a slob than your typical college guy room. He had a tendency to leave his stuff lying around. Like his open mail. Not a big deal really, until you leave the notice from the bank stating that you bounced a check at the Quik-E-Mart for the amount of one pack of cigarettes. He also smoked, which he thought we didn't know, but could smell. We could also see it, since he sat by the window in his room and blew the smoke outside.And if that wasn't bad enough, he was lazy. We would often come home to find him laying on the couch, sleeping, with his jacket over his head. It was seriously bizarre.

The apex of life with Binky though came towards the end of his stay at 1215 Bertrand #4. We had stylishly decorated our swingin' pad with a Kilian's red poster and a BatBoy cover from The Weekly World News. Bills had been paid the previous week, and since all the utilities were in my name, I had given everyone their bills for what they owed for the month. It came out to a grand total of $81.80 for everyone. The only person to not pay me promptly was Binky. One night while I was either working or at my girlfriend's, or both, the rest of the boys went to Wal-Mart. While there, Binky complained to Chris and Roommate Tad about me getting n him about paying bills. After all, didn't I understand that he was low on money? That maybe he couldn't afford to pay the $81.80 right then? Binky promptly bought himself an air pistol A nice air pistol. He then promptly brought it home and shot it at the BatBoy picture on the wall. That promptly left about a hundred holes in our sheet rock wall. Needless to say, I was pissed. The only communication I had with Binky for the remaining three weeks or so he lived there was to tell him to pay me my $81.80. He avoided me like the plague. Probably because I'm sure there were some not-so-vague threats made about beating the money he owed me out of him. I can be fairly intimidating when I want.

In the end, he moved out after one semester with promises of mailing me what he owed me. It never happened. My anger was soothed some by the fact that none of us were really sad to see him go. But I can say in all honesty that after 17 years, I still want my $81.80. And a new BatBoy poster.

The Fest of River

Each year, Wichita, Kansas has an annual event that begins the second weekend in May and continues for 10 full days of excitement and joy called RiverFest. I have attended RiverFest off and on for the decade that I have lived in the Greater Wichita Area, but my introduction to this fine ......thing.....began back in 1995 or 1996 when my sister, Karen, was living in Wichita and I was in Junction City. I remember her calling me one night and the conversation going something like this.

"You know Mom and Dad are coming to Wichita this weekend, you should come down, too, if you don't have anything going on," my sister started.
"Oh, I don't know. Why are they going there anyway?"
"They're coming down so we can all go to RiverFest. You can come with us, it will be fun."
"What is this RiverFest you speak of?"
"It's a big annual celebration thing they do down here."
"Like the Stanley Stampede?"
"No, more like Old Settlers day."
"Well, what do you do there?"
"There games and rides and stuff. There's supposed to be some big water skiing thing, and bathtub races."
"I don't know..."
"There's funnel cake."
"I'm listening. Go on. Are there Grange Pups?"
"I don't know, but someone told me they have those big roasted turkey legs you like. And they have a lot of meat on sticks."
"Where should I meet you and what time should I be there?"

So, it was then that I got introduced to Wichita RiverFest. Upon arriving at said festival, it became clear to me that the RiverFest did indeed serve as a celebration of the Arkansas River that flows through downtown Wichita. If you've never seen the Arkansas River, let me fill you in. First off, I'd never eat something that came out of that river. Secondly, it's dirty, trashy, and generally kind of gross (even with more recent upgrades to the public areas around it). That also pretty much describes a lot of the attendees of RiverFest.

Let me be clear that I enjoy living in Wichita very much. I have met a lot of wonderful people here, especially my wife, and it's generally a very nice city. However, RiverFest inevitably draws out the dregs of society. On my first trip there in the 95-96 time frame, I remember feeling very out of place because I was not wearing jeans and a tank top. I also had nothing -- shirt, hat, tattoo -- with a Confederate flag on it. I also didn't have a mullet. I think that the reason so many fringe type people come out during RiverFest is that you can enjoy it basically for free. There's some concerts and stuff (more on that later) that you can attend by purchasing an official Wichita RiverFest button at Dillons for $5. In any case, RiverFest quickly has become my favorite place to people watch. It's a lot like being in Vegas, but you never get to say, "Hey, there's Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears," but rather, "Hey, there's someone dressed like Paris Hilton or Brittany Spears....but weighs more than me. And might not be a woman."

Yes that sounds mean, but those of you who know me know I am a very hefty man. Some of the outfits you see at RiverFest could fit Aniston, but are crammed on to someone who is literally bigger than me. And it looks....whatever the opposite of glorious is. For example, last year I saw a rather large woman wearing short shorts, and a tank top with plunging necklines that showed off her boob tattoos. And my sister-in-law was nice enough to also point out that she had her cell phone stuck in her cleavage as she ate a funnel cake.

This year, as pretty much every year, we did go to the Friday night Sun Down Parade that kicks off the big RiverFest festivities. Following the parade is a big "free" concert that is free to anyone who purchased a $5 dollar Official RiverFest button from Dillons which is in turn followed by fireworks. A couple years ago I was blessed to sit outside and listen to Nick Lachey as my wife and sister-in-law attempted to get in to get good seats. I think it was the year after that when the opening night concert was American Idol season 2 winner Ruben Studdard. Yeah, you see that we bring in the big names in Wichita. This year, Bret Michaels was slated be the free concert, and then apparently gave himself a brain hemorrhage to get out of it. Fortunately, Rockford, IL's finest, Cheap Trick, was available and stepped up to fill in for Mr. Michaels. Of course several people I talked to were excited that Cheap Trick was coming. This excitement lasted as long as it took me to say, "Quick, name five songs by Cheap Trick," which was always followed the realization that after "I Want You to Want Me" and "Dream Police" everyone draws a blank.

Any-who. . . We went to the parade this year. After parking in our usual spot, we walked to one of our favorite spots to set up for the parade. It's on a nice hill with lush grass. We got there a little before 6:00 PM (the parade begins at 6:30) and there were people already set up on our hill. My wife said, "hey let's get a spot here." And then I pointed out, "I don't think the parade route comes this way this year. The end of the street is barricaded." Which led her to ask, "Then what are these people doing?" to which I replied, "Preparing to be disappointed I guess. This is RiverFest."

Long story short, we watched the parade and then walked back to our car. The people were still sitting on the hill. Suddenly it hit me. The hill is adjacent to the amphitheater where Cheap Trick was playing. These people had come out before 6:00 PM to get a seat to listen to Cheap Trick. And if that wasn't sad enough, they were sitting there because they didn't want to pay $5 top actually see Cheap Trick. Let that sink in a second. . . THAT, ladies and gentlemen, sums up RiverFest in a nutshell for you. Well, that and funnel cakes. And meat on a stick.

RiverFest 2010 ended last night, so I now roughly 364 days to grow a mullet and buy a Confederate flag tank top. Peace out Wichita!

I'm With The Band

Recent postings on my friend Terry's blog and several conversations with my friend/former roommate Chris over fantasy baseball have led me to finally share this little known fact about myself: When I was in college, I was in a band. Our name was Used Paint. Used Paint consisted of myself, my aforementioned roommate Chris, one of my other roommates, tad, and my older brother Steve. We had an album named "When In Rome. . ." We had several hit songs. We had a feature interview in Rolling Stone. We even had one member trendily spend a stint in rehab. Now many of you are probably asking (especially you, Mom), "Why don't I remember hearing about Used Paint in the early to mid-90s?" or "Why don't I remember you being in a band?" It's simple really, Used Paint didn't really exist. What follows is a brief albeit strange, history of the mega-hyped, super-powered sound explosion known as Used Paint. . .


At some point when you're studying education at Kansas State University, you're required to take a class called Human Growth and Development. The semester I enrolled in this class, Chris took it too and we coincidentally ended up in the same class. The class consisted of two parts -- lecture and recitation. The lecture part was incredibly boring, and you were informed that you could buy all the class notes pre-bound at CopyCo, but it happened to fall in-between two classes I actually needed, so Chris and I ended up attending regularly. The first couple classes we entertained ourselves by scribbling notes and drawing pictures about one of our roommates we referred to as Binky (that is a whole other blog people).

Somehow or other, we got on the topic of the Steven Wright bit about going to the used hardware store. He says, "I bought some used paint. It was in the shape of a house." I don't remember all the details, but I do remember Chris saying, "Used Paint. That would be a great name for a band." And he was right. So we set about creating Used Paint: The Band.
Human Growth and Development lecture time became our time to create Used Paint. We started by assigning roles: Chris played drums, I was on vocals, Roommate Tad was on bass, and my brother, Steve, played the guitar. We did not include Binky, though we worked him in as a peripheral character who was a former band member like all of Spinal Tap's deceased drummers. The band members were funny to us for several reasons. First, Chris couldn't play drums, nor did he own any. Two, I don't sing particularly well, and my area of musical expertise was the bassoon (no lie). Third, Roommate Tad actually could play the bass real well -- the stand up kind you play in high school orchestra. (Tad was always pictured as playing the stand up bass in Used Paint, rather than an electric one). Our saviour was Steve, who does play the guitar (and bass) very well, and actually did move on to join a real, live, good band in Austin.


Once we had that part down, it was time to create some music. Not real music, mind you, just album and song titles. We sat in lecture jotting down titles and placing them in lists for albums. Our first album, "When In Rome. . ." was a hit. If I remember correctly, the break out song from that album was entitled "Pope in a Can." Every weird thing we heard someone say, or that just popped into our head became a song title. In these days prior to Denis Leary hitting it big, we actually had a song titled, "You're an A**hole." And then felt grievously offended when Leary came out with his song by the same title.

This thing we created, Used Paint, began to grow and take on a life of its own. We told Steve and Roommate Tad about it, and they were on board, too. I spent way too much time devoting time better spent studying to creating my fake band. Sitting around the apartment, it inevitably worked it's way into every conversation, which led to us brainstorming more and more ideas for our band that didn't exist. We began working on our second album "Muck," which came together much faster. We followed "Muck" with a special album called "Used Paint's The Wide Album." It was much like The Beatles "White Album" with a white cover...but it was extra wide so it stuck out from all the other DVDs on the rack. Not only could we fake play in a band successfully, we were marketing geniuses!!! The band took a short hiatus while Roommate Tad went to rehab for fast food addiction. In all seriousness, and he was a great roommate mind you, he did eat a lot of fast food. Especially McDonald's.


With Roommate Tad back from rehab, and the semester of human Growth and Development coming to an end, Used Paint made one last grasp for glory. The band returned with a new album, "Songs from 1215 Bertrand #4," that we claimed was live stuff, unreleased tracks, B-Sides, and one new song. This isn't a new concept, since bands like Aerosmith and Def Leppard do this all the time -- usually to create just enough interest to have a mildly successful tri-state tour.

It was during this time that the Rolling Stone interview began to take shape. Inane questions were written down, followed by inane answers that played on the quirks of every band member. For example, Steve, a man of few words, answered questions several lines long with responses like "yep" and "mhmm." Roommate Tad, who overused the F-word, was censored out of most of the interview (though I did put the Beetle Bailey staple &%$#@! in place of the swear words). When I look back now, I think it was the notoriety of a completely untrue Rolling Stone interview that tore Used Paint apart. Maybe it was all the fake fame that went to our heads. Or maybe, just maybe, it was that we all started looking at graduation and stuff. I know one of us got a serious girlfriend, one of us broke up with a serious a girlfriend (not the same person), we got a new roommate who not only shared his VCR (unlike Binky) but also brought along a collection of adult films on VHS, and the semester dwindled to an end. Used Paint ended not with a bang, but a whimper. I can say for a fact that somewhere out there in cyber space is a file from one of my computers with a half-typed version of "Used Paint: The Rolling Stone Interview" -- hand to God, it's true.


I don't usually wax nostalgic, but it was fun thinking back on those times that seem so long ago. I guess eventually we all have to "grow up" and "be responsible," but maybe as we get older we take ourselves too seriously. I was watching "Step Brothers" the other day, which is really a pretty ridiculous movie, and I kind of got caught by the scene where Dale's dad tells the two matured man-child characters to never lose sight of that inner child, and to let it shine. Even though I still read comic books against my wife's wishes, and I watch cartoons with my kids--a lot, I miss my band. I am calling now for the Used Paint Fake Reunion Tour 2010. We need a bassist, so if anyone knows where Roommate tad is, let him know we getting back together.

By the way, the previous paragraph should be read as a voice over using the voice of that guy who narrated The Wonder Years. Peace out. . . . Used Paint Fake Rocks!!!!