5 Things Redux! Or, How I became a Cyber Geek like Uber Fast
Per Dan's requestI will describe 5 (ish) things you do not know about me...these are listed in no particular order. They completely define who I am.
1. One time in grade school I pooped my pants. This is how it happened. It was after school and I was playing soccer with the team. I played soccer for only one year. I forget the team's name. One day at practice we were running drills and I accidentally let a load off. I immediately knew what happened and got really embarrassed. I did the only thing I knew to do, and that was grab the seat of my sagging pants and run away holding The Load and the whole time pointing with the other hand at my butt while I said, "look, a bag of candy!" I fooled them into thinking I was leaving soccer practice in the middle of drills with a bag of candy in my pants. I said it like I was excited about it, too. But I was a bit excited, really. Poop in the pants of your soccer shorts does that.
Unfortunately My neighbor was just finishing his practice and him and his dad offered me a ride. Being very young I wasn’t skilled at getting out of situation, so I accepted. Because I had a bag of candy in tow, I opted to not sit on the seat, but took up residence on the floor space and propped myself up by using my elbows on the seat. The only thing I remember about the ride was my friend saying, "Dad, I think the dog shit in here." I knew it wasn't the dog.
They dropped me off at home. My mom met me at the door and I honestly remember saying "mom, I pooped my pants." And then I cried.
2. My first crush was Olivia Newton John. I loved her really bad. I used to sit under the dining room table and lay my head on the cassette player (the kind that was flat, had a handle, an orange record button, and the cassette door flipped up and open when you pushed eject.) I would lay underneath the dining room table with my ear to the cassette player and listen to Olivia Newton John tapes for hours. (A) My parents took me to a Barbara Mandrel concert at the Fair. I didn’t know her and it made me mad to know they were trying to persuade me with this imposter. I hated it, but everyone else around seemed to like it. (B) I used to watch "Two of a Kind" and "Grease" all the time during my infatuation period. It lasted for one year.
3. One time I took break dancing lessons at the Wilkie House. I was young. It was me and all these break dancing black dudes. "Breakin" was huge and I loved that guy Turbo. I had parachute pants because when you are like 7 in 1983 those pants were where it was at. So I went to this house in my parachute pants. It was a youth shelter for after school programs. A place to keep the kids off the street. Don't know if it is still there but it used to be over by the Homes of Oakridge. I learned how to do the Worm, the Flare, and the Moonwalk. None of it was like Turbo. For a lesson in Break dancing, and to understand my past, check out http://www.uic.edu/orgs/kbc/hiphop/break.htm. It will explain the hip hop life.
4. I used to hide in bushes and throw rocks at cars. My friend DJ and my brother were huge enthusiast of this activity. We hid in the bushes and hit the cars as they drove by. It all ended when a woman got hit twice (to and from the store), and she parked her car at the top of the street and came down to where we were “hiding.” DJ and I ran and my brother got caught. We watched from our perch of hiding as he got hauled to our house. He was balling and I knew I was fucked. I was. We got busted and that ended our rock throwing days.
5. I used to spend hours in my room playing air guitar to Quiet Riot albums. I would imagine that I was in the band and have mini concerts in my room. The fans always adored me as I played the long guitar solos. I liked Metal Health, but Condition Critical was good too.
6. My good brother pointed out Water Babies and I totally forgot about them. They need mentioning. My sister came home from school one day and she called me into her room. She told me about this idea she had. She said, "Chugs, i have a pack of balloons that i want to fill up with water. I want to make them different sizes, and then when we have all 30 or 40 filled, i want us to keep them in our rooms, closets, and even the bathtub! I want to take care of them like little children. I want to call them water babies." i looked at her stunned. to my 6 year old mind it was completely genius. I agreed immediately and began to fill balloons like a motherfucker. We started with about 36 babies.
It started out great! I had some, she had some. Don't remember my brother taking care of any, but he probably did. A family that plays together stays together. And we filled up our rooms with these babies. And the bathtub was taken over. The babies were happy. We would carry them around. Talk to them. Look at them. They didn't do much but sit there. Lazy babies, really. But then they started to snap. They exploded, sometimes. And after a week or two of taking care of the babies, an explosion was met with giant sadness. It ruined us. Made us cry. I really got attached. I had one that was blue. I called it Erik. He exploded. I lost my mind. That all ended when my Mom got pissed at all the balloons and water. We had to give them up.
7. The Water Babies also reminded me of the duck parts. One time my friend Stevie brought a dead duck to school. He brought it in a shoebox, and he showed me at recess. I thought it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. I said, "Stevie, that is so sweet. Can I have some of it?" I always wanted what other kids had, and Stevie knew this so he gave me parts of the Duck. I got the head, the feet, and a wing, and that was it. I put them in my pocket and took them home. I was so happy on my way home that day.
I put them in the closet and made a shrine for them. It was cool. I would go to it like every 20 or 30 minutes and just look at them. Sometimes i would move them, or rearrange them. Mostly i just liked to touch the feet and stare at the nostrils on the beak. I loved my Duck Parts. But about 3 weeks in they started to smell really bad. So instead of giving them up i started to spray my dad's deoderant on them. I did this all the time cause the smell was getting really severe, really fast, all the time. About 1 more week of this and my mom got pissed again. She threw the Duck Parts away. I think I cried, again.
1. One time in grade school I pooped my pants. This is how it happened. It was after school and I was playing soccer with the team. I played soccer for only one year. I forget the team's name. One day at practice we were running drills and I accidentally let a load off. I immediately knew what happened and got really embarrassed. I did the only thing I knew to do, and that was grab the seat of my sagging pants and run away holding The Load and the whole time pointing with the other hand at my butt while I said, "look, a bag of candy!" I fooled them into thinking I was leaving soccer practice in the middle of drills with a bag of candy in my pants. I said it like I was excited about it, too. But I was a bit excited, really. Poop in the pants of your soccer shorts does that.
Unfortunately My neighbor was just finishing his practice and him and his dad offered me a ride. Being very young I wasn’t skilled at getting out of situation, so I accepted. Because I had a bag of candy in tow, I opted to not sit on the seat, but took up residence on the floor space and propped myself up by using my elbows on the seat. The only thing I remember about the ride was my friend saying, "Dad, I think the dog shit in here." I knew it wasn't the dog.
They dropped me off at home. My mom met me at the door and I honestly remember saying "mom, I pooped my pants." And then I cried.
2. My first crush was Olivia Newton John. I loved her really bad. I used to sit under the dining room table and lay my head on the cassette player (the kind that was flat, had a handle, an orange record button, and the cassette door flipped up and open when you pushed eject.) I would lay underneath the dining room table with my ear to the cassette player and listen to Olivia Newton John tapes for hours. (A) My parents took me to a Barbara Mandrel concert at the Fair. I didn’t know her and it made me mad to know they were trying to persuade me with this imposter. I hated it, but everyone else around seemed to like it. (B) I used to watch "Two of a Kind" and "Grease" all the time during my infatuation period. It lasted for one year.
3. One time I took break dancing lessons at the Wilkie House. I was young. It was me and all these break dancing black dudes. "Breakin" was huge and I loved that guy Turbo. I had parachute pants because when you are like 7 in 1983 those pants were where it was at. So I went to this house in my parachute pants. It was a youth shelter for after school programs. A place to keep the kids off the street. Don't know if it is still there but it used to be over by the Homes of Oakridge. I learned how to do the Worm, the Flare, and the Moonwalk. None of it was like Turbo. For a lesson in Break dancing, and to understand my past, check out http://www.uic.edu/orgs/kbc/hiphop/break.htm. It will explain the hip hop life.
4. I used to hide in bushes and throw rocks at cars. My friend DJ and my brother were huge enthusiast of this activity. We hid in the bushes and hit the cars as they drove by. It all ended when a woman got hit twice (to and from the store), and she parked her car at the top of the street and came down to where we were “hiding.” DJ and I ran and my brother got caught. We watched from our perch of hiding as he got hauled to our house. He was balling and I knew I was fucked. I was. We got busted and that ended our rock throwing days.
5. I used to spend hours in my room playing air guitar to Quiet Riot albums. I would imagine that I was in the band and have mini concerts in my room. The fans always adored me as I played the long guitar solos. I liked Metal Health, but Condition Critical was good too.
6. My good brother pointed out Water Babies and I totally forgot about them. They need mentioning. My sister came home from school one day and she called me into her room. She told me about this idea she had. She said, "Chugs, i have a pack of balloons that i want to fill up with water. I want to make them different sizes, and then when we have all 30 or 40 filled, i want us to keep them in our rooms, closets, and even the bathtub! I want to take care of them like little children. I want to call them water babies." i looked at her stunned. to my 6 year old mind it was completely genius. I agreed immediately and began to fill balloons like a motherfucker. We started with about 36 babies.
It started out great! I had some, she had some. Don't remember my brother taking care of any, but he probably did. A family that plays together stays together. And we filled up our rooms with these babies. And the bathtub was taken over. The babies were happy. We would carry them around. Talk to them. Look at them. They didn't do much but sit there. Lazy babies, really. But then they started to snap. They exploded, sometimes. And after a week or two of taking care of the babies, an explosion was met with giant sadness. It ruined us. Made us cry. I really got attached. I had one that was blue. I called it Erik. He exploded. I lost my mind. That all ended when my Mom got pissed at all the balloons and water. We had to give them up.
7. The Water Babies also reminded me of the duck parts. One time my friend Stevie brought a dead duck to school. He brought it in a shoebox, and he showed me at recess. I thought it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. I said, "Stevie, that is so sweet. Can I have some of it?" I always wanted what other kids had, and Stevie knew this so he gave me parts of the Duck. I got the head, the feet, and a wing, and that was it. I put them in my pocket and took them home. I was so happy on my way home that day.
I put them in the closet and made a shrine for them. It was cool. I would go to it like every 20 or 30 minutes and just look at them. Sometimes i would move them, or rearrange them. Mostly i just liked to touch the feet and stare at the nostrils on the beak. I loved my Duck Parts. But about 3 weeks in they started to smell really bad. So instead of giving them up i started to spray my dad's deoderant on them. I did this all the time cause the smell was getting really severe, really fast, all the time. About 1 more week of this and my mom got pissed again. She threw the Duck Parts away. I think I cried, again.
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