Thursday, August 17, 2006

Me (A year-by-year assessment), pt. 1

I'm not important enough for a biography. I have done very little of note, so why waste a good book on me. I did think recently about writing down the memories I have just in case I suddenly go dumb(er than I already am). The easiest way for me to achieve this is to go year by year (mainly school years because that gives me a frame of reference) and just write.

I didn't go to an actual school for kindergarten. I went to a big place that when I first enrolled was called Singer Learning Center but later became known as ECLC (I have no idea what it meant). I went there during pre-school and kindergarten ages and I do believe that when you were of age, you did attend kindergarten at the Center, but I think it's main focus was daycare instead of school. I can't remember if I learned letters & numbers there or if I knew them already, but I do recall recesses we would have (a lot) and I can still see the place in my mind. I also have very vivid memories of getting my head split open, of being an M.C. for shows we would put on, of getting in trouble for not only repeating to a teacher some bad words I had heard a kid say, but for throwing food.

  • Apparently, I woke up one afternoon from our scheduled nap and decided I was going to chase a teacher around a counter. I liked this teacher (she was pretty and younger than most of the other teachers) and I would, for some dumb reason, refer to her as Miss Kitty (an obvious reference to Gunsmoke which I really don't remember watching as a kid). So, I wake up and I'm chasing her around a counter (a low, kiddie-like orange-colored counter (yeah, it was the 70s) with a sink, but it was a longish counter, so the chase was a good one) and I don't know if I had my shoe untied or what, but I fell and cracked my forehead open on a corner of the countertop. Of course, if this were to have happened today, my mom would have ended up owning the fucking place, but as it was in the mid-Seventies nothing really happened. I was bleeding badly and ended up going to the hospital for stitches. I remember the procedure mainly because I kept telling the nurses and whatnot that I had to pee. I still have a pretty prominent scar from the incident.

  • I don't know how I wound up becoming an M.C. for all school events, but I did. I wasn't overly extroverted as a kid, so how that happened is lost to time, but I was always the M.C. One time I wasn't and it was traumatic. I had to be in a skit we were doing about a frog or somesuch not having a tail (?) A polywog, I think it was. Anyway, I had to wear tights. I cried. I performed, but I wasn't happy about it at all.

  • Some kid was outside and he said, in this order, "motherfuckerdamnbitch". Me, being the upstanding guy you all know and love, decided to rat him out. I found the nearest teacher and told her exactly what I had heard. I got put against a wall for this (what...they couldn't find a corner?). The confusion was bad. I had done the right thing and was being punished for it. Apparently, as I learned later, I should have just told her he said a bad word, but not to repeat the bad word. Adults! How can a kid make heads nor tails?

More later.

Misc.

  • I recently decided I no longer like The Doors. Nothing in particular sparked this revelation, I just thought about it one day and decided I don't like them. I was never a huge fan, but when the movie came out you couldn't go anywhere without hearing about them (even if you didn't want to know anything about them) - it goes so far as a guy I used to know could recite Morrison poems at will. That's not right.
  • This has to be stopped. I know people like to buy shit and put it under their Christmas tree...they do, it's a fact, but to go to an extreme such as this is just wrong.

This is being sold via QVC. I saw it during their Christmas in July broadcast. It, too, can be yours (with shipping) for about $120. They claim it's "Inspired by holiday tradition in the middle ages", but I think that's bullshit. It is pre-lit though, so if you're a lazy son-of-a-bitch and you have horrible taste, then this hunka shit is made for you. Be ashamed of yourself if you like this. Please. For humanity. Be ashamed.