One Man Wolf Pack

So today was kinda weird. About half way to the school I was working at, I realized that I had forgotten to grab my chefs coat on my way out. My first thought was to turn around, but I was already 35 minutes away and couldn't afford to miss the first class because that would set me back a day later for when I get to start my Christmas break, and I need at least a full three weeks off, at the very least. So then I had to stop and think what t shirt it was that I had on under my North Face. As I've mentioned before I usually get ready in the dark in less than seven to eight minutes. Was I wearing the standard blank white shirt we are supposed to wear under our coats? Of course not. No, on this specific day I just happened to grab the shirt my mom purchased for me in an airport somewhere featuring a picture of Zach Galifianakis and a wolf howling at the moon with the words "One Man Wolf Pack." I kid you not, I am looking at the shirt right now so that I can paint you an accurate picture of what I looked like today giving a presentation in front of thirty high school kids. When I first told the teacher that I had accidentally forgotten my chefs coat she was really nice about it and told me it wasn't a big deal. But then as I was setting up and it was time to take off my jacket I saw her eye my shirt with a weird expression. It wasn't necessarily a bad look, it was more like a "huh, interesting shirt choice to wear to work" look. So I got all studdery and nervous and tried to explain myself,

"Oh ya, this is a weird shirt I know, it's just, well you know my last name is Wolfe, and um, I gave a speech about wolves, I mean the wolf pack, at my sister's wedding, not because I love the Hangover, but it's my name, and so ya my mom got this shirt for me in an airport..."

I sounded like an idiot because no matter how I tried to explain myself it just wasn't coming out right. Then it got even more awkward because I could tell the teacher started to feel sorry for me because she gave me that sweet teacher look you see used with the insecure chubby girls when they're dressed in bad outfits. I felt like she thought the only clothes I could afford were souvenirs purchased for me in airport shops. I asked if she wouldn't mind borrowing me an apron to wear while I demonstrated, I thought this would at least make me look like a chef a little bit. The only apron she had that was clean (or so she said) was a country checkered red and black thing with cooking chickens on it. So now I thought she was the odd one. But it was going to have to work. I put the apron on and didn't think it looked that bad, until I looked closer and noticed that just above the chicken's head toward the top of the apron you could see the wolf's head peaking out from under my shirt. So through four presentations, seeing over 80 different high school kids, I stood in a chicken apron and a wolf shirt and preached about the skills and technique involved with fruit carving and cake decorating. Like I said, today was a weird day.

To unwind from the stress of the t shirt fiasco I decided to come home and hang up a few more Christmas lights outside. The sonofabitch below me waited a few days after me to decorate his patio just so he could outdo my light presentation. Nice try. I bought a few more strands to hang above the railing just to add a little flare. So I was attempting to hang the above lights while standing on a folding lawn chair, not the best idea I know, but I'm incredibly lazy and chose to use the closer outdoor chair rather than walking five steps inside to get a kitchen stool. Naturally, the chair started to collapse, so I started to fall. My options were either to fall onto the grill, or fall one story down onto the ground. Had I been thinking clearly in that split second I would have chosen the ground which would hopefully have landed me in an arm cast which would make chopping and dicing pretty difficult so I couldn't have been able to work. It would have been so Home Alone of me to break my arm while hanging Christmas lights. A broken arm over Christmas break as an eight year is like a death sentence, but as a 23 year old, I think exactly the opposite. You can't help clean with a broken arm, or wash dishes, you probably can't even go to church I bet. But instead, I already have a huge bruise forming on my back thigh and two unbroken arms.