wellRED podcast - Story Time W/ The CHO #2 - Throwing Rocks at Bottles

Episode Date: May 11, 2018

In a week (ok, 2 years!) of negativity, I thought I would share a story of a simpler time in my life. One where all you needed to have fun was a rock... and something to throw it at! Originally written for The Huffington Post, I hope you enjoy 'Throwing Rocks at Bottles' Sponsorship for Story Time W/ The CHO is provided by Real Estate Agent Laura Kate Tutton. Click here for her website and more information on finding the perfect home in the Chattanooga area!wellREDcomedy.com for tickets to all of our shows!

And we thank them for sponsoring the show. Well, no, I'll just go ahead. I mean, look, I'm money dumb. Y'all know that. I've been money dumb ever, since ever, my whole life. And the modern world makes it even harder to not be money dumb, in my opinion, because used to you, you like had to write down everything you spent or you wouldn't know nothing. But now you got apps and stuff on your phone.

It's just like you can just, it makes it easier to lose count of, well, your count, the count every month, how much you're spending. A lot of people don't even know how much they spend on a per month basis. I'm not going to lie. I can be one of those people. Like, let me ask you right now, skewers out, whatnot, sorry, well-read people, people across the skewniverse, I should say. Do you even know how many subscriptions

that you actively pay for every month or every year? Do you even know? Do you know how much you spend on takeout or delivery, getting a paid chauffeur for your chicken low main? Because that's the thing that we do in this society. Do you know how much you spend on that? It's probably more than you think. But now there's an app designed to help you manage your money better

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Premium features. I used Rocket Money and realized that I had apparently been paying for two different language learning services that I just wasn't using. So I was probably like, I should know Spanish. I'll learn Spanish. and I've just been paying to learn Spanish without practicing any Spanish for, you know, pertinent two years now or something like that.

Also, a fun one, I'd said it before, but I got an app, lovely little app where you could, you know, put your friend's faces onto funny reaction gifts and stuff like that. So obviously I got it so I could put Corey's face on those two, those two like twins from the Tim Burton Alice in Wonderland movies. You know, those weren't a little like the Q-ball-looking twin fellas.

Yeah. So that was money. What was that in response to? What was that a reply gift for? Just when I did something stupid. Something fat, I think, and stupid. Something both fat and stupid. But anyway, that was money well spent at first.

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Give her a shout for all your real estate needs and tell her that the show sent you. Anyways, this story is one that I wrote a couple years ago for the Huffington Post, and it's been brought back to my mind because I've been home for about a week. And in the time that I've been home, I have dealt with two funerals. And it's got me very nostalgic for a better time. And so I wanted to share this one. It's called Throwing Rocks at Bottles. I hope you enjoy.

Ski-y-y. Much of my childhood was spent in the space between getting in and getting out of trouble. It's where I thrived, and it's where I nurtured friendships that I still hold dear to this day. I learned how to dig a hole for the purpose of burying one of my sister's Barbie dolls far before I would have learned the skill for a higher purpose. In fact, there's absolutely no telling how many items I have buried in the Georgia clay that surrounded the house where I grew up in Mountain View. Perhaps one day I'll go back and ask the current owner if I can have a dig for old time's sake. This is, of course, the South, so I know the fella. By the time I was in fifth grade, I was a fairly good aim with a rock.

Me and my buddies would sneak back to the recycling center after baseball practice and line up beer bottles on an old log in front of Smith's garage. Greens were worse so much, browns were so much, and you pretty much garnered all the points if you sacked up and chunked a rock through one of the windows in the garage. I did that a lot. Shouldn't have, but did. To this day, I know nothing of Mr. Smith except for the fact that at one point he had a garage. At the time, it was old and worn down, and hell, this. This was in the early 90s, so one can only imagine what kind of shape it's in now, as I doubt anything has been done about it.

I'd go back and check myself, but they moved the recycling center so there wouldn't be any bottles for me to bust. What's the point in that? Nope. Didn't know anything about the man, but we used to swear late at night that we would see his red eyeballs staring at us from inside one of the half-broken windows as we sat there throwing rocks and kicking over ant-hills. Red eyes.

That's the type of bullshit you can only get from a nine-year-old. Another cool feature of this Recycuin Center was that it had a huge bin full of just magazines. This was before the internet mine used, so free literature of any kind was a particularly big deal. Sure, we could have gone to the library, but the last time I checked, you couldn't break shit there. You see a pattern? We used to love finding the old car magazines. We'd sit there for hours, looking at concept cars, dreaming about what the future was going to be like for us. We'd talk about which cars we were going to have when we were.

our dad's age, completely unaware of the fact that you had to have, like, you know, a job and shit. Pacifico is brood for those who follow their own path because that can lead to an amazing view of an epic sunset. Pacifico, live life, anchors up. Keep exploring at orderpacico.com. Discover responsibly, Pacifico Clara Beer, imported by Crown Imports, Chicago, Illinois. We talk about which brand was the best, and since that's determined by whatever your papal had, I, of course, thought it was GMC. I ended up driving that truck later in life, but that's for another time.

Yep, GMC is the best, and I don't really give much of a damn what the rest of the yuns have to say. People always sell more redneck in the past. That's just riding 101. One day, we had just finished up ball practice and the subsequent game of wall ball that followed, so we decided to hustle down the Recycline Center for our usual rounds of troublesome meddling. A buddy of mine who we will just call William, for the purposes of this story, had beaten us down there. We got to the magazine, Ben, to find that William staring at a magazine with his jaw somewhere near the bottom of the pile. What the hell are you looking at, man?

One of us said. You guys got to check this out. That's the first time I ever laid eyes on a Playboy magazine. Now, don't think this is going to get disgusting. It would be years before any of us knew what to do with one. We just all knew we liked it. We didn't know why, but we did. I think about that often and I think about that fondly.

The first time a sexualized thought entered my mind and the last time one entered my mind without ruining something for me eventually. I wish I could go back and tell that kid, hey buddy, keep throwing rocks at bottles. That is all you need to do. For the love of God, keep throwing rocks at bottles. Thank you, everybody. That was Throwing Rocks at Bottles by Yours Truly, The Cho. See y'all next week.