sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches. the tricky part i’ve found is not knowing how many of them are comin.  I like to reference any of the “Rocky” movies.  The guy gets wailed on the entire match, non-stop punches until he’s just about to die and then somehow manages to squirt out one punch and win. As much as that used to annoy me as ridiculously unrealistic, i’ve finally seen the point.  It’s not about the amount of punches you take, it’s more about getting up after each one of them.  that might be one of the lamest things I’ve ever said,  please forgive me

We’ve had a relentless 6-9 months.  Believe it or not, the past 2 have continued, one shocking event after another.  Did I tell you how I broke my fingers?  Ok, truth be told it was only 1 broken finger but I find I get more attention saying 2.  Not to mention the other one hurts pretty damn bad it might as well be broken.  Here’s how it happened..

So our dudes in papa roach came to town and played at Congress which is an old ass (yet bad ass) theatre in Chicago.  The dressing room had a window that led to an old school firescape.  ya know the ones with the iron platforms and stairs that fold down in case of fire?  well yeah, we were out on that thing enjoying a beautiful view of the city.  There were about 5 of us out there and one more began to climb out the window onto the already crowded platform so I moved over to make room.  Coincidentally I was talking at the time and as I leaned back against the railing (that I had in my previous position)..  I just kept goin.  It was my 2nd best fall of all time.  I usually judge falls by the time it takes from the start of it to the moment you stop moving.  My best fall (off the stage in Houston on Halloween 2008) clocked in at just under 11 seconds.  This one was about 4-5 seconds (if you really picture it… thats a long time).  There simply was no railing and I just tumbled down the staircase.  Ok that’s not exactly true.. Truth is I weigh all of 1.7 pounds so the staircase never even deployed lol.  Pleased with myself at the entertainment I had provided for my friends, I picked up my dignity and moved on.  Show ended and we decided to have everyone come kick it on my rooftop.  Only problem was my car had been towed.  There are no problems, only challenges.. so we jumped in a cab and went to my rooftop.  This is where things got awesome. 

It was super windy that night and about 6 of us were up there having some drinks waiting for the p-roach dudes to arrive.  I was talking to some shady dude that one of our high school friends brought over about how today’s House music just doesn’t compare to the early days of Bad Boy Bill or some shit I know nothing about but pretend to so people will like me.  Suddenly a massive plume of black smoke (picture the smokemonster in “Lost”) meanders it’s way from the adjacent rooftop over our heads.  My building is an old “U” - shaped (well more like ” I_I “) loft and we’re on one of the sides while the bottom of the “I_I” exploded in flames.  After a quick pause for some FB pics, we called 9-1-1.  jk.  I’m pretty sure my first call went something like this.. “my building exploded!” click.  So I called back cuz I forgot to give em the address lol.  We ran downstairs grabbed the cat and my xanax and started banging on doors as we made our way down the stairs.  We got outside and started calling people from the intercom to wake them up just as the fire trucks arrived. 

Being the good neighbor that I am I called my friend Matt next door to make sure he was all good.  He was at a party..  but his dog wasn’t.  He asked me to go get Spencer.  titch bits.  I’ll admit, it dawned on me for a brief second… maybe I could be a hero?  So I waited til nobody was looking and ran back in.  All the way up 6 flights of stairs (pausing on the 4th to barf, i’m out of shape) and into Matt’s apartment.  Admittedly I went in pretty excitable.. after all there was a fire.  Briefly forgetting dogs don’t speak much English, I went in screaming “spencer! the buildings on fire, we gotta get outta here pal!”.  He mauled me.  I took a 5 minute beat-down from him until I managed to get his collar on.  Ran him all the way downstairs (pausing on the 2nd floor to barf) and out to safety.  My hand was bloody and my finger(s) broken.  The best part of it however was that the fire never even made it to our wing.  Not even a waft of smoke.