15th Dec2008

I learned a lot this weekend

by The Boss

Note: I have 2 cousins who I will call K and H for this post. H is the older sister of K. :) Carry on.

Saturday was Christmas with my moms family. Apparently one of my younger cousins, K,  has been bitter all these years due to some remarks I made as a child and teenager. I think my favorite was when she told me, that I told her, “You can’t ride in my car, you’re not a teenager.” Teenagers are the picture of stupidity.

K’s the same younger cousin that told the neighbor to go to “you know where.” She also flipped off a school bus full of children. Which was bad for her since her mother was a teacher then. They all exited the bus and went straight to my Aunts classroom to tell on her.

One magical Christmas, so long ago…well it was magical for H and K anyway, Santa brought them the Nintendo. Santa also brought my other cousins a Nintendo that same Christmas. I guess Santa didn’t like me as much as he liked them. I never got a Nintendo…ever.

Apparently, K found that it was unfair for me and H to play Nintendo without her. This isn’t true because we clearly let her play with the Duck Hunt gun. It may not have been actually plugged into the Nintendo, but it’s still part of the Nintendo and we let her play.

These were H’s rules. She played Mario, I played Luigi, and K got the gun. Now, this is the part where my bitterness comes in. In order for me to actually get a turn playing Luigi, H had to mess up and kill Mario. This NEVER happened, because H never died. She’s like the James Bond of Super Mario Brothers. If she did let me play Mario, I’d die almost immediately. There was never a reason for me to even bother. Which is why I think she let me be Luigi in the first place. If by some chance she did die, she wouldn’t have to wait long for me to die, then it would be her turn again.

I will take credit for the stone retainer wall we tore apart in order to find hidden treasure (they got in SO much trouble for that); jumping from really high places because I was convinced we could fly if we’d just climb higher and try harder; setting traps in the woods to catch a pet bunny rabbit; playing on top of waterfalls; and not letting K play with us unless she jumped in the pool in the middle of winter. I will not take credit for the Nintendo incidents, I will blame H.

Category : Memoirs
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10th Dec2008

There is no such thing as Santa Claus

by The Boss

With the holidays approaching I can’t help but think about my childhood. My dad was really big on Santa when I was a kid. Looking back at all the toys Santa brought me as a child seems a little excessive now that I am a parent.

I was always suspicious about the existence of Santa. He just seemed too good to be true. My parents assured me he was real over and over again. Still I doubted, so I would make them promise he was real, and they would.

I was 7 before I found any hard evidence that Santa didn’t exist. I remember looking around that Christmas Eve very carefully, paying attention to the tiniest details.

In the morning, the first thing I noticed was a closet door that was slightly ajar. I pointed out to my parents that the door was completely closed when we went to bed, and they just tried distracting me with my new presents. Later in the morning, I found the wrapping paper and colored tape that had been used to wrap my presents. My parents said Santa wrapped the presents while he was putting them under the tree. I couldn’t break them, they had an answer for everything.

The following Christmas came as quickly as they all seem to. This year, my parents weren’t together and I stayed with my dad on Christmas Eve. I fell asleep as soon as possible. The next morning, I had a feeling that Santa just wasn’t coming. I lingered in bed just a little while longer until my curiosity got the best of me. My suspicions were right. Santa had not come.

I went back to bed, and stared at the ceiling. I think I even felt a little foolish. About 2 minutes passed, and I heard my dad jump out of his bed and run out the front door. A few more minutes passed and I heard him come back in. I suspect he knew I had already been up and seen that Santa had not come. He had to act quickly so he yelled out, “Thanks Santa! See you next year!” Santa had brought me a new bike.

I never said anything to my dad about that morning. I just let him think he had tricked me again. He likes to think he’s smarter than me. But I knew, if I said anything I would not be getting anything good for Christmas the next year.

Category : Holidays, Memoirs
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06th Nov2008

I Have a Gypsy for a Mother

by The Boss

I can’t help but laugh at this. It’s my fourth grade class picture. My friend Isaac got a hold of this when he was “helping” us move into our new house. Obviously he was pillaging and NOT really helping at all. He sent me a link to this picture. That’s right. It’s on the internet. He was also SWEET enough to highlight me so that all of our friends would have NO problem finding me amidst all the other kids with really bad hair. Ahhhhh the 80′s.

This picture reminded me of SO much. Like the kid you can you can barely see because my teacher’s puffy head is in the way, not that I should be talking about any one’s puffy head. He gave me a Valentine that said, “You’re purrrrrrfect, Valentine!” I remember because I was SO embarrassed, I mean, I had no idea he felt that way. I also remember thinking, “Man, that’s so right on.”

Now, the girl in front of me lived in my neighborhood. We had kind of a love/hate relationship. She also gave me my first cigarette. All I can remember after smoking for the first time was that I was propably going to hell.

I moved around a lot as a child, I have a gypsy for a mother. I changed schools 9 times from Kindergarten to 12th grade which has led to a lifetime of awkwardness. Also, I’m really good at packing. Before I had kids I could pack everything up in a day and be settled into the new place before bedtime.

So, yes, thank you Isaac for stealing from me. Turns out, that’s the only thing best friends are good for. Another friend stole a family picture of me and had my face put on a clock. Can you feel the love?

http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=f826fb5630&view=att&th=11d631727a91557b&attid=0.1&disp=thd&zw
I can.

Category : Featured, Memoirs
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