1:32 p.m. - 2004-10-20
A Loopy Little History, First Installment
A Loopy Little History, First Installment
I have been reviewing what I've written, and I realized that any information anyone has about me is in bits, pieces, and spurts. I just sort of jumped right in to my life. I can't believe I did that. It's like starting a movie in the middle�you can sometimes follow the plot, but you don't always have enough information. Yeah, I did 100 things about me, like everyone else (shut up, Dusty, we can't all be as cool as you), but that doesn't really tell you who I am, what I'm about, and why you should give a rat's rosy behind about reading this drivel.
Therefore, without further ado�.
Chapter 1: In Which I Am Born, and My Parents Really Start Re-Thinking the Whole Having Kids Thing.
I was born on May 12, 1974�Mother's Day�in Flint, Michigan. My parents lived in a trailer. My whole extended family lived nearby. My father worked at GM. Then he got laid off. Then we moved to Houston, TX., where I lived until the age of 18, except for the two years we spent in Pittsburgh, PA. I loved Pittsburgh.
Somewhere along the way, my parents cursed me with a younger sibling. I like him now, except for the fact that he's a complete dork. But I sure as hell didn't as a kid. He did stuff like eat my crayons and color in the VERY FIRST LIBRARY BOOK I ever brought home. I was totally mortified about this.
I learned to read at age 3 (or before�I don't remember learning how, I just remember knowing how), and to write shortly thereafter. I used these talents for evil, doing such things as inviting my friends to parties and sleepovers which my mother knew nothing about.
As a child, I loved Mickey Mouse, the color red, macaroni and cheese, swimming, coloring, reading, ice cream, visiting my grandma and grandpa, Strawberry Shortcake, Barbie, the public library, and smacking my little brother upside the head. I hated my dad, my first grade teacher, vegetables, being told what to do, the booger-eyed ass-monkey in my third grade class who had the nerve to make fun of me, the dark, and my little brother.
Some stories from my childhood:
(1) My grandma still lived in Michigan. In the summer, when I visited, we would go strawberry picking. Up until the age of 7, I loved strawberry-flavored anything. That all changed. We picked some strawberries. I ate a huge mixing bowl full of them. The expected result occurred. It looked like a strawberry milkshake. To this day, I have a very difficult time eating pink food of any kind.
(2) My mom took my brother and I to the mall once. I was 9, he was probably 5 1/2. We were moving away from Pittsburgh in a week, and one of my best friends was having a birthday party that night�hence the reason for the mall visit. My brother acted like a mutant from the planet Stupidio the whole time we were there. My mother erroneously included me in these misdeeds, even though I didn't do shit. We went home. She told my dad. I almost didn't get to go to my friend's party, because they were ignoring my protests of innocence. Parents suck.
(3) We had two hamsters named Sugar and Spice. Sugar was a big fat hamster. Spice was a little runty hamster. Sugar would get to the food first and empty the whole food bowl into his mouth pouches so that Spice couldn't have any. Spice had issues anyway�he never gnawed enough to clip his teeth, and we had to do it; he was always kind of sickly. Sugar lived forever. Spice lived about 6 months. After that, we had a hamster named Peanut. He was so fat that when people saw him sleeping, they thought it was two hamsters.
(4) I was a very hypersensitive and stressed out child. In third grade, I kept having these unexplained headaches and stomachaches. They never did figure out what was wrong with me, despite various food-deprivation diets (to see if I was allergic) and taking away my favorite old feather pillow. I read an article as an adult. Turns out I was probably depressed.
(5) Most of my very best friends had younger siblings about the same age as mine. We came up with lots of new and interesting strategies to get rid of them. One of my personal favorites was playing house and making them be the family pet.
Okay, I need to type some work-related stuff at some point. (I always say this. But really, one day, they're going to notice, right?) However, this will be my project for the next few days. Next installment will focus on my adolescent years and why a nice, juicy hot carl would probably have done less damage in the long run�.
For the next installment, click here.
