The Cup Of Quarters, part I

With everything I've had going on you're going to think I'm kidding, but I'm so serious when I say that for the last two months, the single most important thing in my life has been filling up this cup with quarters. Not watching movies about clown puppets. Not poppin’ and lockin’. Not even hilariously defacing my office's guestbook:



Nope. It’s been filling up this cup with quarters.



I chose this particular cup because there ain’t nothing like that Jacket pride. I chose quarters because every time I say their name it reminds me of football and I really like video games about football. Especially Super Tecmo Bowl. Anyway, filling up this cup has become an obsession, to the point where I’ll buy shit I don’t need just so I could get the change in quarters. I promised myself I wouldn't count it until it was completely full. Well guess what? SUNDAY WAS THE MOMENT OF TRUTH! I can’t really describe what it felt like seeing that cup finally full, but I imagine it probably felt a lot like what it must feel like to see Rebecca Rojmin naked. I even thought about pouring them out on my bed and having sex on them like Woody Harleson and Demi Moore did in Indecent Proposal, but three hours later, after that idea had completely passed, I decided to just count them instead.

When I first began, I predicted the cup would hold about $50 worth of quarters. Oh sweet Jim Caveziel I was wrong. When I hit $50 the cup was still half-full. The grand total—$150.00—almost half the budget of The Feeding.

So what did I do with all this money? Stop by Thursday to see what happened when Homemade Fireworks invaded Carolina Place mall with the unstoppable combination of $150.00 and me. You see that, bitches? My Blog posts have teasers.

*Speaking of Jacket pride, we had a cheer that went "Jack-et pride. Jack…Jacket pride." So during a pep rally my Junior Year, this guy named Jack Draper runs into the middle of the gym out of nowhere and starts looking at his watch and scratching his head. We had no idea what was going on until about fifty guys started yelling, "Jack…you late! Jack….Jack you late!" Get it? So then he starts taking off his letter jacket, and the same guys yell, "Jack-et off! Jack, Jacket off!" I swear to God. I even more swear to God that later that day, all fifty of those kids got called to the principle’s office, one by one. And it wasn’t until the end of this paragraph that I realized for the first time that I spent nine years of my life at schools best known for the sexual innuendos you can make with their mascot's names.