46 and Moving Up

Today is my Birthday.  I am now 46, and at least for the next month and a half, I am also now 10 years older than Maureen.  This morning I celebrated with a tradition that Maureen has brought into our house.  I had birthday cake for breakfast.  Since I had to work today and the kids are with their mother, we had a little dinner last night.  Maureen made two of my favorites, Chicken Limone and Potato Croquettes.  Very, very yummy.  And then they gave me my present, a European style coffee press.  It was the way they served us coffee on our trip to Ireland, so it was something I wanted to try at home.  And we will be doing that in the morning.  Maureen also put together one of my favorite cakes for dessert.  Angle Food Cake.  But of course she didn’t just stop at a simple cake.  She topped it with a chocolate ganache and stuffed the center with strawberries and lemon whipped cream.  This is what I had for breakfast.  Two pieces.

Needless to say, as I left for work this morning I was in a pretty good mood.  Then I pulled into the gas station to fill up.  There was only one spot open, but it was on the driver’s side, and my tank is on the passenger’s side, so I had to swing around the lot to pull in the other way.  While doing so, a guy in a Ford Expedition pulled up to the pump.  No big deal.  My loss for having to pull around.  Instead I pull up behind another car that I hope will be done soon, but as I do, I notice the guy in the Expedition gets out and heads into the store without starting to gas up.  I find it a little strange that a guy with a big ass SUV and one of those Blue Tooth things in his ear doesn’t use a debit card to fill his tank unless he headed inside to pay cash.

The car in front of me finally moves on, and it is my turn to fill the tank.  As I start-up the pump, there is still no sign of the SUV guy.  I figure he must be getting one of those tasty Speedway breakfast pizzas to go with his gas.  Obviously he doesn’t have a gorgeous wife at home to make him birthday cake for breakfast.  I finish at the pump and start to pull away when Mr. Fancy I-Have-A-Really-Big-Car-and-Can-Do-Whatever-I-Want comes out of the store with a pack of cigarettes in his hand and get in his big old monster Ford Expedition.  And then he pulls away.  He didn’t even get any gas!

As luck would have it, Mr.  My-Dick-Is-So-Small-I-Have-To-Drive-A-Big-Truck pulls right up next to me at the light for the entrance of the expressway, and his window is down and I can see him puffing away on his cigarette and talking into the stupid Star Trek thing in his ear.  So I roll down the passenger window and shout out to him, “Are you always such a big dick, or were you doing it special just for my birthday?”

He seemed to have no time for such antics from the little people who drive beat-up Chevy Malibus, and after a quick glance he just stared ahead, still talking to himself and his fancy little ear device.  So then I got another idea, and I whipped out my crappy cell phone to take a picture as I screamed at him again.  But alas, my crappy little phone did not get any better since the U2 concert, and as the light changed, this was the best I could do.

But I did get the last laugh as I sped past him on the Stevenson, honking and waving as I passed.  No punk SUV is going to get the best of my crappy car.  Or my crappy cell phone. 

And did I mention I have a hot young wife who is ten years younger than me?

Crappy Pictures of U2 From My Old Crappy Phone

Someone in our household is a huge U2 fan.  So, someone else in our household took her to the show last night and now someone else is tired as all hell today.  After taking the Red Line downtown, we met up with a group of friends at a little establishment called The Wabash Tap.  This particular bar has really no significance, other than it was close to where we needed to be, and they make some of the best Tater Tots in the city.  The staff was rude and slow, and a bucket of Miller Lite was $16.  Of course this was nothing compared to the $8 Tall Boy Cans we would be enjoying inside the concert.  But such is the price of entertainment in the big city.

After a few beers, we headed out into the warm night, winding our way down to 18th Street and the south pedestrian walkway that would take us into Soldier Field.  Once there, we headed inside for the first of those $8 beers and a bit of conversation before the show.  Just as the show is about to start, we took the short walk down the field tunnel, stopping briefly for our neon yellow wristbands, and then step out onto the field, surrounded by a crowd of 60,000 plus fans.  The show begins with Even Better Than the Real Thing as we hang out in the back with the group we came with, but I can tell Maureen wants to move closer.  There were about 12 or 15 of us there at the time, and we all knew we could not manuever the crowd in such a large group, so we broke off into our own little packs to claim stake on our spots for the night.  Maureen and I managed to work our way to the left side leg of the giant spider-like contraption that made up the stage and video screen, where I noticed all the people with their fancy i-phone like flat screen devices, busily taking pictures.  Not wanting to be left out, I whipped our my flip open “bag” phone, gave it a good crank to make sure it had power, and then snapped off a shot of my own.

As you can clearly see, I have a crappy phone.  My phone obviously has a reverse telephoto option, because even after a few more of those $8 cans of Miller Lite, I am fairly sure we were closer than this.  Looking around, I saw people taking really nice close up shots of the stage, and even recording video of the performance.  All from their cell phones.  Not to be discouraged, I tried again.

I am not even sure what that is.  If you look closely to the right of the blue blob thing, I think that is an actual person.  Or rather a projection of a person.  I am pretty sure that is the giant video thingy that hung over the stage.  In all, I snapped seven pictures with my crappy little cell phone camera, and because I am a glutton for punishment, here are the other five.

So there you have it.  U2 as seen through the eyes of my cell phone camera.  If it is true that a picture is worth a thousand words, then here are my essays on the night.  Unfortunately, I have no idea what language they were written in.