F.S. Player: Kris

Kris actually seemed genuinely excited for me to be showing up to take advantage of her place for three days. Having just completed my week of solitude across the Great West, I was genuinely excited to have company, a shower, and a landscape that didn’t swish past me at 77 miles per hour. These two things added up to me being a huge wuss when it came to going out and experiencing the city. We did, however, make it to the beach, where the lovely Chicagoans entertained us and the entire shoreline with their loudly voiced personal stories and incredibly over-reactive abrasive parenting styles. It was like being on a Carnival Cruise in the middle of the Mid-West. Aside from that, the Rib Fest and the Blues Festival were both going on, but because of my malaise we didn’t make either—regrettably so with the Blues Fest. Instead Kris locked me into her apartment and made me do unthinkable things. Things that no man should talk about. Things that no man should admit to. Yet things everyman has caved into at a certain point in his life. It has been a while now, and I think it would be cathartic to tell you what she reduced me to that first night. Hours in front of the T.V., watching Elf, Grey’s Anatomy, and two episodes of Army Wives. Don’t worry though, I hated every minute of it, and thought of sports the entire time (except for when Addison was on Greys, then I was as focused as a man can be). The Lesson learned from the weekend? Don’t ever put your weakened mental state in the hands of a Psychology Grad student, she can warp and twist it into whatever she wants, and you’ll never see it coming.