Sorry about the gap again, but another, and far better change in jobs has made me a tad busy lately. Anyway, you're not here to hear about that. Let's make with the goodies...
This little trip down memory lane is going to be a bit of catch-up. You see, over the course of this little blog I have come to remember a few more tidbits from the years I have pretty much already covered. So, in order to be as thorough as possible, I thought I'd retrace a few of my steps and drop in some of these recently remembered memories. Cool? Cool.
The first one I can remember happened on the playground while I attended Central Elementary. The logistics are a bit fuzzy, but I do recall it centered around my 'girlfriend' Jenny Motycka (I air-quote that because I'm pretty sure I only assumed she was my girlfriend). Anyway, there was a new boy on the grounds, I think his name was Bobby Something... maybe McSomething. Look, I can't remember everything. Anyway, he was all up in my territory and I wasn't really thrilled about it. So, it just so happened that I was wearing hiking boots that day... steel toe, even, and I decided to take it upon myself to shove him in the dirt and kick him square in the eye. That's right: the eye. I don't know if I felt good about myself or not, but I did manage to gather quite a crowd who cheered me on. I also don't recall if Jenny was impressed or not. I'm gonna say likely not.
Another time was a time I pooped my pants. That wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was that I was 12. Yup. That's right: 12. I was walking home from Junior High (Portage Northern) and I had stopped to get my MAD Magazine so I was a bit further from home than usual, and suddenly I was overcome by a horrible wave of nausea. You know what I mean: cool flashes, that sinking feeling in the pit of your guts that starts out rumbly and quickly escalates into a full-on Poo-Mergency (my brother coined that term, by the way). Well, I started speeding up my pace and clenching my butt, but time and the pressure of actually moving was having none of that clenching nonsense. And so, just as I hit the Haverhill playground -literally 1/2 mile from my house- the floodgates flew open and a very wet plop escaped and landed firmly like a moist baseball right into the mitt that was my pants. That was a fun one to try to hide in the laundry, let me tell you.
How about falling out of a tree? Anyone ever do that? That is not a fun time, let me tell you. Especially when you're about 20 feet up. There's more, but I won't bury the lead. So there I was, climbing up with one of my toy action figures in my hand, my brother just behind me (I think we were around seven and four because we still lived on Liszt). Suddenly, the branch I was using to swing on from one perch to another snapped clean of the pine tree, and I was a goner. I plummeted like a bloated corpse those 20 feet breaking several limbs on the way down. Sadly, they did very little to impede my descent and served only to really, really hurt. As I neared earth, I immediately realized that we had a really nice sandbox directly in my path... my path of my head. Luckily, I hit the ground at such an angle that the damage to my melon was limited, but it still hurt like hell. Knocked the wind out of me, too. I don't climb trees much, anymore.
Well, that's the skinny for now. See ya soon with a continuation of my life line...
This little trip down memory lane is going to be a bit of catch-up. You see, over the course of this little blog I have come to remember a few more tidbits from the years I have pretty much already covered. So, in order to be as thorough as possible, I thought I'd retrace a few of my steps and drop in some of these recently remembered memories. Cool? Cool.
The first one I can remember happened on the playground while I attended Central Elementary. The logistics are a bit fuzzy, but I do recall it centered around my 'girlfriend' Jenny Motycka (I air-quote that because I'm pretty sure I only assumed she was my girlfriend). Anyway, there was a new boy on the grounds, I think his name was Bobby Something... maybe McSomething. Look, I can't remember everything. Anyway, he was all up in my territory and I wasn't really thrilled about it. So, it just so happened that I was wearing hiking boots that day... steel toe, even, and I decided to take it upon myself to shove him in the dirt and kick him square in the eye. That's right: the eye. I don't know if I felt good about myself or not, but I did manage to gather quite a crowd who cheered me on. I also don't recall if Jenny was impressed or not. I'm gonna say likely not.
Another time was a time I pooped my pants. That wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was that I was 12. Yup. That's right: 12. I was walking home from Junior High (Portage Northern) and I had stopped to get my MAD Magazine so I was a bit further from home than usual, and suddenly I was overcome by a horrible wave of nausea. You know what I mean: cool flashes, that sinking feeling in the pit of your guts that starts out rumbly and quickly escalates into a full-on Poo-Mergency (my brother coined that term, by the way). Well, I started speeding up my pace and clenching my butt, but time and the pressure of actually moving was having none of that clenching nonsense. And so, just as I hit the Haverhill playground -literally 1/2 mile from my house- the floodgates flew open and a very wet plop escaped and landed firmly like a moist baseball right into the mitt that was my pants. That was a fun one to try to hide in the laundry, let me tell you.
How about falling out of a tree? Anyone ever do that? That is not a fun time, let me tell you. Especially when you're about 20 feet up. There's more, but I won't bury the lead. So there I was, climbing up with one of my toy action figures in my hand, my brother just behind me (I think we were around seven and four because we still lived on Liszt). Suddenly, the branch I was using to swing on from one perch to another snapped clean of the pine tree, and I was a goner. I plummeted like a bloated corpse those 20 feet breaking several limbs on the way down. Sadly, they did very little to impede my descent and served only to really, really hurt. As I neared earth, I immediately realized that we had a really nice sandbox directly in my path... my path of my head. Luckily, I hit the ground at such an angle that the damage to my melon was limited, but it still hurt like hell. Knocked the wind out of me, too. I don't climb trees much, anymore.
Well, that's the skinny for now. See ya soon with a continuation of my life line...
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