A Nerd Gets Addicted

It was a summer day in 1991. My Cousins and I had just finished walking to the corner market and were excited and ready to buy as many salt and dried-lime-chunk packets as we could. Those packets were the only reason we went to the corner market.

To properly eat said packet just use your teeth to tear them open, stick the packet in your mouth, and then suck out the goodness until empty. After that, rinse and repeat until all packets are empty.

Tequila drinkers used that shit to add some extra oomph to their shots, nothing more than an impulse buy located right next to the register. For my cousins and I, their add on oomph was our main course, sweet and salty candy in a handy packet.

Thankfully, they cost either just a nickel or a dime per pack. If they’d been more expensive, we would have seriously considered robbing someone’s great aunt to get at the cash stuffed in her bra. We were that fucking addicted.

This would be the fifth summer in a row where my cousins and I would go through hundreds of those things. We should get our hearts checked out.

I ate so many, that I can still taste taste them. Holy shit am I grateful for those phantom taste buds. The memories…

One day, while walking in for just some of the packets, we discovered something new at the corner market next to the Sal-Limon packets. The store had stocked baseball, basketball and football cards!

Whoa. We knew they existed because we had seen a few here and there, but for whatever reason, (most likely the Sal-Limon starting it’s run down our veins) these cards seemed special. Reminds me of how I’ve always enjoyed the song Believe by Cher, then yesterday I heard it the first time in forever and now I’m convinced it’s one of the best songs of the 90’s.

Now, I’m back at my grandma’s the taste of Sal-Limon with a hint of blood still in my mouth (those packets always would cut me a little) and I also had some sports cards in my possession.

My Uncle saw the cards, got hyped, took a break from teaching me to shoot craps and retrieved his old binder of sports cards. He had the good shit. Lou Brock rookie cards type good shit.

I saw that binder and I was in.

I was determined to find my own Lou Brock rookie card.

Friday came. My aunt was about to take me on our weekly trip to the comic book store. Grandma must have won at bingo the night before because she dropped me a twenty before we left. Good thing. I needed the extra scratch because our trip now included an extra stop at the corner store to purchase trading cards.

We arrived at the comic book store, and little did I know that my card addiction was about to enter a whole new phase. I put the latest edition of the X-Men comic book on the counter and froze. Beside the register stood an entire display case full of Marvel comic book trading cards. Pictures of Spider-Man, Wolverine and The Incredible Hulk stared back at me! Just when I thought it couldn’t be more mind blowing, I saw the packs cost the same as baseball cards!

Now, I could have stretched the twenty to get the comic, get some Marvel cards and get some sports cards, but as I kept adding on pack after pack to the haul, I thought about holding back to make room for least two sports cards packs, but that thought was immediately replaced with a “Fuck it, make mine Marvel.”

I dove all in on Marvel cards and no shit, waiting in the very first pack I opened was Wolverine! (my favorite). Then, holy shit it’s Storm! (my first crush, please forgive me Whitney Houston). I just couldn’t get enough. That summer I got most of the Marvel first wave and the next year, got the entire second wave.

I can confirm, the first cut is indeed the deepest.

Ol Sal-Limon Breath getting it done.

Those were two glorious summers.

I love her. ESPECIALLY Mohawk Storm.

Then, life moved on. Years receded in the rearview mirror. I made major moves to NYC and then to LA. Things got misplaced in the shuffle of life.

As the years passed, I would sometimes reminisce on them, but I figured I had lost my beloved cards somewhere along the journey. So goes life. Suck it up. Keep going forward. But sometimes life can have its pleasant surprises on par with the Planned Parenthood doctor saying “It’s not herpes, you just have itchy balls. Maybe go shower.”

This past month, Andrea and I had to move into her parents’ house so I would have a place to heal and recover that was much easier for me to access. Being that I was practically bed ridden, several wonderful friends helped her pack. My eternal homie Eddie Pence was one of them, and found a binder in a bin in my closet that was full of all the “lost” fucking cards.

So maybe not quite Lou Brock but a Danny Ketch Ghost Rider Rookie has to be worth something… right?

Dallas Cowboys! Dallas Mavericks! The High Evolutionary! They were all there!

My love of cards was rekindled. It had been so long, they may as well have been brand new! Now I am actively collecting them again, passionately!

On days when I feel like shit, I’ll grab a binder, look over them and smile.

I love that this wave includes the Marvel characters fight stats on the back of the cards.

Check out the Silver Surfer’s win percentage! Look at his number of wins. Maybe the Don Shula fans can sit down for a bit.

Geeking out on my cards has really helped my mental health. I’m a kid again. Collecting this shit is still cool! That always helps me when I’m down, geeking out over the shit I loved as a kid.

Fuck it, next time I feel like shit, I may try kneeling down in the middle of the rear floorboard of my aunt’s car during a long road trip, and play out an entire NFL season using those old little gumball machine helmets.

Now, if Talmadge Topps happens to be reading this (that’s gotta be the name of the Topps’ CEO, right?) I am trying to get my hands on all the Dallas Mavericks cards from all of this year’s NBA sets. I ain’t flipping shit on ebay either! Just for me. Hook me up will ya?

I’m so happy to have my trading card addiction back and in full flower. I promise, I no longer fuck with the Sal-Limon. I want to. I REALLY want to, but I wont.

How absurd would that look if, in the middle of fighting cancer, what did me in was my heart spontaneously combusting while sucking on my fifteenth packet of that shit?

As much as 1991 me would choose that as my preferred way to go, I hope I’ve learned a few things at my current age.

Thank you as always for tuning in. What’s your geek out? See you soon.

Tip Jar (if you wanna)

I Need to Get Out More, but It’s Physically Kinda Rough Soooooo…

MUSIC!

Oath by MONO

MONO is a band I would gladly listen to if they put out a record of nothing but dry-heaving. They could make it work. An instrumental, harmonious sometimes heavy metal band from Japan (I think that’s how I would describe them?!) who never disappoint and Oath is another of their albums that delivers. They are easily one of the most memorable live shows I’ve ever been too. It was at tiny venue in Denton, TX and as small as the venue was, it had more than enough space to fit the nine people who came to the show. The band didn’t give a shit, they stormed through their set list and turned that show into a religious experience for the nine of us who showed up. Plus, their bass player used a Gibson SG Bass, which made her extra cool. So, shit yeah, check them out.