My nephew is a freshman in high school, and already having trouble with a rumor spread around the school like a brushfire.  He’s a tough kid, with a big mouth, and very active in sports.  He’ll survive, but he’s quickly learning that high school is its own experience with higher highs and lower lows than other grades in the public k-12 system.

In that vein, here are some anecdotal stories of my experience  to remind you what it was like:

The Girl
I was sitting in class, vaguely paying attention to the teacher when a girl I knew as a psued0-friend came to the window in the door.  She stood out in the hallway and motioned at me.  Shocked, I nodded to acknowledge her communication.  She was trying to mouth words to me from the hall, but I couldn’t make them out, so I kept making a “What?” sort of gesture, and cupping my hand behind my ear.  That’s pretty clever sign language, I know.  This continues several times until finally she’s calling me out to the hallway.  Clearly she’s got something to tell me.  Maybe she couldn’t help herself and had to come get me from class to confess her secret crush on me.  I can’t just get up and leave class though, or should I?  Right before I decide to calmly excuse myself to the hallway to accept this gift from my new admirer, the girl behind me gets up, smiling, and walks out to the hall to meet her friend who was apparently not talking to me at all.

Dating the friend
I don’t know how I wound up around a girl that was in a class below mine, but somehow I developed a crush on her.  She was the younger sister of a kid in my class too, which only made things worse.  I’d walk over to her house to hang out with hopes that she’d pick up my signals and want me to be her boyfriend. Jeez, high school is dumb.  Time after time, and attempt after attempt, she seemed only slightly interested.  Finally she pulls me aside.  She pulls me close and whispers into my ear that her very heavy and obnoxious friend with the wild and crazy hair and lack of any “inside-voice” really likes me.  I’m in this to win this, so I figure that by dating her friend, she’ll appreciate my efforts and I’ll get her to return my affections.

The obnoxious girl’s mother brought her over to my house, several times, unannounced and a little overzealous of her daughter’s new boyfriend.  My parents were uncomfortable with this, thinking I’d arranged it secretly.  She’d come in, go to my room and close the door.  Of course she closed the door.  I’d spend the next hour dodging her in my own room and avoiding every heavy handed pass at physical contact until finally making up something I had to do and taking her home with my brand new driver’s license.

Although we never officially broke up, I stopped talking to her.  That didn’t win me any points whatsoever with the friend I did like and they both hated me.  It’s for the best though, I think.  The girl I was interested in continued to not date, and the girl who chased me around my room was spotted barefoot and pregnant, holding a baby, at the local WalMart store not more than 3 years later.  The cute friend caught me delivering pizza at her work once, and paid me $20+ in change with a smile.

Who is that guy?
I had a great friend in high school, who I’d known for a long time.  He was a bit dorky, but so I was I and it allowed me to be the cool kid in our friendship.  I’d mess with him in the way that asshole high school kids did.  I’d unzip his backpack and pull stuff out of it, then hand that stuff to him in class or something lame like that.  He would get mad, but overall he was a very even-tempered kid.  He loved to read, and had a great interest in history.  He carried a backpack with all of his school books and supplies and personal books and maybe even some action figures.

His parents had a lot of land, and I was good with computers from an early age, so I’d take a copy of the Anarchist’s Cookbook over to his place on a floppy disk and we’d screw around with stuff we shouldn’t.  Once we burned an old tree down with home made napalm.  Kids…  One day, during a convocation on drug testing and searching, he stood up from his seat next to me in the auditorium with his giant backpack in tow.  He spoke calmly, but loudly, that the school had no right to test and search our personal belongings and has he spoke he left the seat beside me and walked the aisles passing out hand-made fliers about privacy rights with quotes for all the students.

He was a celebrity in that moment.  We never hung out anymore and barely had a chance to speak because he was hoisted up on a throne or in trouble with the school for the rest of our high school career.  I saw him a couple years later, on the street in college while going to various house parties on a road near campus.  He barely knew me.

Secret Love
There are groups of people who form “cliques” in any environment, but high school seemed to be the home of the clique.  I had friends in many groups, which was a bit of a luxury because I could hang out with older kids, band kids, smart kids and so on.  Still, I never considered myself part of the smart kid group.  It wasn’t about intelligence at all, but rather about money.  The smart kid group seemed to have wealthy parents and my family couldn’t afford to buy me Polo shirts and Dockers shorts for school.  I was more into black rock t-shirts and jeans, anyway.  It just set up a mental separation for me.

In that group was a very smart and very attractive girl who never really paid me any special attention, but always seemed very nice.  One day, during class session I was running late and in a hurry to get to class.  Nerve-wrecked over something I don’t remember and rushing up the stairs, I slowed as I saw another student on the next set of stairs.  I didn’t want to look lame for hurrying, you know.  The person in the hallway was her and as we passed on the landing she very clearly whispered “I love you, Jon Scott”.

I didn’t respond.  It was like my legs were on a mission, my body must comply and my voice was missing in action.  I thought and thought about it, but what could I do now?  What if I had misheard?  What would I say?  She paid less attention to me than before and the story ended there without me ever returning so much as a “thank you, you’re a nice person”.

Those are a few stories from my high school experience.  Just recounting them makes me realize the missed opportunities, the awkwardness and the feeling that I wasn’t popular enough.  Looking back, I’d change a lot, but I imagine the experience was similar for most.

Do you have a story to share?  If you’d rather do a High School Stories blog post, put your link in the comments and I’ll post it here as well.

The title of this post has a lie in it.  It has nothing to do with chasing rainbows. I’m not sorry I lied.

Most mornings, anymore, I haul myself out of bed after the alarm has sufficiently pissed me off and not a moment before.  I stand up against the will of morning gravity and immediately start processing all the things that I have to start doing and how long it will be before I can lay back down.  This morning was different, though.  This morning I woke up before my alarm and felt rested.

Why?  Because I had a great dream.  Al Gore was in it.  Now get your mind out of the gutter.

In my dream, I was fighting Al Gore in a toy store.  We weren’t really fighting, necessarily, but sort-of wrestling about without any real punching or kicking.  After I’d whale on him like an older sibling would do, I’d run the aisles and collect a toy or two before he could catch up to me.  I stock-piled them in one area, waiting to collect them at the end of the fight.

While I do love toys, I don’t feel any need to beat up Al Gore.  Maybe that’s the game though, because for a shopping spree, I’d definitely fight him.  That’s the obnoxious kid in me, I guess.

Speaking of toys, have you seen these Zhu Zhu Pets?  What the hell are they trying to push on us now?  From what I’ve experienced, a Zhu Zhu Pet is basically a toy car from the 80s (the kind that would drive around all crazy, run into walls, turn and go another direction) wrapped in a hamster suit that is sometimes made to look like another animal and all sharing the same electronics so they make the same varied animal noises when they bump into something.  I don’t get it.

Beyond being a very simple toy, they’re $10 freakin’ dollhairs each!  Of course this was the only thing my oldest daughter was asking for, so we bought two, but that seemed like such a lame offering that I bought some “track” for them as well.  They are a lot more fun in the track, but need constant supervision or they’ll fall over and get stuck, or escape and roll off the table.

I guess chasing toy hamsters around the room makes my dream about wrestling Al Gore sound like a decent alternative.

What’s your weirdest recent dream?

I think when you present anything, you generally have an idea of how it’s going to go. You at least have an idea of how you’d like it to go.  Well, I posted a partial project I’ve been working on, and instead of getting feedback from 2 or 3 people, as I expected…  Something different happened.

It all started with Elly Lou (blog) having some sort of confusion with the comment box having some sort of a minimum, which it apparently doesn’t.  Innocent enough, right? Seemingly.

Before I know what’s going on, the post has become a public forum with questions about caring for a new cat, the legitmacy of transexual mates and time machines.  A comment sandwich began and, my friends, it grew.  It grew like an unholy sandwich from sandwich-hell.

Somewhere in the midst of the tornado of comments, I believe, but cannot prove, that VapidBlonde (blog) got my cat pregnant, PattyPunker (blog)  stole all my lightbulbs and Dufmanno (blog) defended, again, that she does not have a condition referred to as “fur boobs”.   Oh and WickedShawn (blog) promised me pictures of boobies.  Man boobies…  I hope she forgets.

We laughed, we loved and we learned from each other.  VapidBlonde, for example, shared with us the gift that is the muffburger:

She then tried to shield us from the dangers of searching for “sexburger” at work, but when I did, I learned even more!  Go ahead and assume that all of my settings are modified to allow as much “accidental” porn to come up in my search results as possible.  Still, I learned of the “SEX BURGER” restaurant:

As it turns out, the SEX BURGER is a bit of Engrish (engrish.com) but I call this a happy accident.  Two things I love more than almost anything, barring comment sandwiches like this, are sex and burgers.  I want to fly there and eat them out

of business!

With this comment section rolling forward with the fury of 10,000 Mack trucks, I found it hard to stop it.  I wanted to do an update more of the guide to wishing – but…  My dog ate my Wacom pen.  This is because he is a bastard.  Until I order a new pen, I can’t do much more with that.

Furthermore, I’ve gone viral. I don’t mean that in the way that I’m all popular and stuff, although that’s clearly the case for you guys/girls who deserve big free beers and sloppy kisses, respectively.  Hell, depending on where the night goes, those might switch… Well, maybe just the beer part.

Being virally ill for several days made me think I was dying, because I’m really really bad at being sick.  Coming out of that, and ordering a new pen tomorrow, I will have additions to the guide for wishing AND I want to hear your suggestions.  Were there parts that you thought were confusing?

(during the writing of this post, Subwow (blog) tweeted, asking yet more people to be the condiments on this comment sandwich.  Hilarious.)

And now, my question to spark comments…  Uh…  Well, this is hardly necessary here, so let’s just start with sexburger.

Everyone says the “three special words” in their own way.  Some people send flowers, some buy a mindful card, and some put an extra piece of cheese in your lunchbox.  Some people, however, show it a little differently.

When you were growing up and your parents were always telling you to be home early and stay away from “those kids”, they were telling you they loved you.  Or they were just trying to keep you unpopular so you could take better care of them in their increasing age.  It was probably love though.

When you’re significant other gets up earlier than you, but steps quietly around the house so that you may sleep uninterrupted, that’s a display of caring/love.  It could also mean they are keeping their actions secret.  It could also mean they are actually a ninja, except then you’d probably be dead.  Maybe they’re a ninja, but they love you, so their a considerate ninja.  I’m sure that’s it.

In Mrs’ family, it’s customary for she and her dad to insult each other in fun to express their love for each other.  When we first dated, she had several saved voicemails on her phone and she played one for me without any explanation.

The message was from her nephew, who she treated like a son, and it said “Hey!  You’re dumb and your butt stinks like horse poop! *laughing hysterically* *click*”

I didn’t get it at first, but this is just how they do it.  I’ll hear a conversation on the phone start out with “What do you want, loser” or “No, you’re dumb” and I know who she’s talking to.  It’s nice.

We’ve adopted the same sort of technique, because we pick on each other in fun constantly.  If you took these conversations literally you’d expect a lot of domestic disputes from two people who labelled each other “retards” and constantly threatened to kick each others asses.  It’s exactly what you’d expect from a happy & functional household.

Two years ago, at the Indiana State Fair, we stopped at the booth where they sell trinkety necklaces and shit with whatever you want etched into them. Mrs bought me a heart keychain with a cow charm and the words in cursive “Your butt stinks” (There is no back story to this regarding my butt, but I do not disagree with it’s validity).  Without my own family insults to interject, I chose a star keychain with the words “I’m pokin’ ya”.  You know, because the star is going to be pocking her in the leg when she keeps it in her pocket.

Do you have an unusual way of expressing your love in your family?

Do you ever just feel like we’re all part of something bigger than we are? Like a giant robot? Because if so, I want to be his wang.

That led to some friends labeling me Robowang, which could be the best nickname I’ve ever heard.  Conversation about that lingered for a moment until I was contacted by Empire Labs [website] (NSFW) about a kit to make a mold of your wang for a sex toy.

Whoa, that’s incredible. Talk about the perfect gift, right? Just consider the possibilities here, would you?

• Merry Christmas, honey. I knew you’d like this because you’ve told me before how much you like mine.
• Congratulations, you guys. I got you a gift that I think you can use on your honeymoon. I know you’ll recognize it, Susan.

Or even:

• Happy birthday, buddy. What’s that? Why its a replica dildo I made you from my own penis. I wanted my gift to really be meaningful *tear* *punch*

Well, I’m not in the dick mold biz, but it would be funny to make a robot penis. If you don’t think that’s funny, I can’t explain it. My sense of humor may not be the same as yours. I’m very seriously considering buying the kit and, through use of prosthetics and creativity, making a robot penis.

Am I twisted? Has my mind fallen apart during my month away? Maybe. More importantly, do you think there’s a market for robot penises?

The first problem was that I hated hate shopping.  I’ll buy the prettiest package every time.  If there’s a bigger jar, or larger box I’ll get it, because it keeps me from coming back soon.  I hate waiting around behind people who just can’t decide to get this box of cookies or that box of cookies.  Get them both, or either, because you’re probably never going to think back and want to change that decision either way.  I’m always afraid of going broke too, which I’ve done too many times.

I’ll grab something and if I’m not sure about it, I’ll end up putting it back before I’m done.  It could be toys, books or movies, food or medicine.  Anything.  The longer I deliberate, the less I buy.  If the store always had free samples I could just go and eat the free samples while I deliberated and eventually put everything back on the shelves one-by-one.

Ramen noodles are the common college staple.  Disregard the package, because you don’t need the instructions.  Here’s what you need hot water.  Really hot water.  Put it on the noodles.  Let them get soft.  Note: If they are a little hard and you strain them early, it’s called Al-Dente, which is French for “I’m a fucking master chef.”  Strain the noodles.  If you don’t have a strainer, don’t worry.  You can do any of the following to strain pasta without a strainer:

• Use a fork to punch an assload of holes in a disposable plate or bowl.
• Put a paper towel in the sink, then lift it by the corners to let the water out.
• Pour it into a microwave container and then crack the lid slightly and pour.

You know what else is great?  Those little seasoning packets.  If you completely screw up your Ramen, because you’re very drunk or severely handicapped, keep the packets and put them in a coffee cup full of hot water on a cold gloomy day.  Mmmmm.  Soup-like.

Speaking of packets, never throw away anything free that has a flavor (and is normally edible).  If you get condiment packets from a restaraunt get extras.  You’ll need them later.  Taco sauce is free at Taco Bell, take a handful when you buy  a$1 taco.   These can be used to make almost any meal a little bit nicer.

Speaking of soup, you can’t go wrong with soup.  Hmmm.. That reads funny, but it’s true.  Anything canned and ready to eat, really.  I don’t think it expires any time soon, and I’m sure there are all sorts of limitations and such, but honestly this isn’t a post on eating healthy.  Pop the can open, pour into a bowl and eat.  If you don’t have a microwave or stove handy, just open, then cook it in the can over an open fire.  (Go outside first)

Hot dogs are, by far, the most versatile food as you can see here.  I wasn’t able to get all of the secret recipes that were entered in the party/contest but here are some ideas:

• Cut up and add to a can of baked beans.  (Double Points!)
• Slit the center and add strips of cheese.
• Put them in your buns (Obviously)
• Cover them with bacon bits, cheese and barbecue sauce for a platter meal.
• CORN DOGS!
• Dog Treats

I inherited a freezer full of frozen hot dogs.  I’m fairly sure they don’t go bad, and when you thaw them they are pre-cooked and ready to eat.  Throw the package in a bowl of hot water to thaw, then heat a couple up at a time for an anytime snack.

Now don’t forget, if you’re entertaining guests, it’s expected that you’ll have multiple courses in your meal.  You need a side dish!  Fear not because Pasta-Roni is 5 minutes away.  I think the box says 10 minutes, so just turn the heat up much higher and serve it Al-Dente!!!  They’ll be awed by your amazing cooking skills, and probably ask you for the recipe.

Don’t give it to them though.  If you give up all your mystery, you’ll be boring AND poor, and that just sucks.

What’s your secret cheap/easy standby?

Ok, pervs, that’s not what I meant.

I would sit in my room and play with my LEGOs and read comics and stuff, or watch the stuff I had secretly recorded the night prior on Cinemax.  Don’t get me wrong here, I loved being social.  It just didn’t work out that way as much as I’d have wanted.

As a result, I grew to be a quiet kid outside of my particular social set.  A few people loved me, a few people hated me, and I knew who I could count on.  If I didn’t know you, I’d probably just keep my trap shut.  I hated this about myself.  I thought it was weird because you don’t see anyone like that on TV, and honestly, what was I supposed to compare myself to?

I started, and I don’t even know when, to force myself to be fun and outgoing.  It was awkward at first, but if I seemed confident, nobody questioned it.  Occasionally someone’s like “Hey, you never really talked before” but I’d explain that I had kept to myself because I could see the future then and I didn’t want to accidentally destroy space and time by giving away too much information, but that a subsequent bump on the head when I was playing [popular sport] outside of school left me powerless (in that way) so the world was safe.

Yeah, I’ve always been this weird.

I don’t really remember the process anymore, but I’m sure it was awkward for a while.  I’m sure it felt like a lie for a long time.   What I can tell you now, is that I will strike up a conversation with almost every stranger I meet and try to make them show their personality.

Some people don’t have personalities.  Particularly cashiers…  Sorry, maybe you are/were the only one…

The Mrs and I have a lot of shindigs when we can, and she and most people that know me well, label me a “social butterfly”.  Butterflies are dumb, so I’m going to go with Social Antelope.  It just feels right.  I managed to basically fix myself.  Now, why only basically?

Well, I still have ridiculous social anxiety.  I just keep it under the hood.  I think in most cases, like if I have to speak to a large group, or to a high-level manager or something, I’m running on adrenaline and slowing everything to the point that they can’t tell.  What do I mean?

I have pre-set things I will say when I see someone in passing.  I don’t have anything to say, but I say something like “Heyhowsitgoing” as one word, just so I said something and didn’t seem weird.  If a pretty girl talks to me, I’m still stunned and carefully measuring my every breath, movement and reaction like I’m going to break something.  “But, KYA, you’re happily married to the Mrs!  What’s this about?”  You’re right.  It’s not that I’m hoping I have a chance, I just can’t help it sometimes.  It’s stupid.

I look for ways out of a conversation that is going too well because I don’t want to exercise this in large doses, particularly if I haven’t been talking much that day.  Shit, if I’ve been indoors all day without interaction, God help the first person who talks to me.  I’ll jabber incessantly, over-aware of the stupid things I’m saying, then announce that I’m being weird and that I’m trying to fix it.

It’s like the unsuccessful speech I had in Speech class once, where everyone was laughing with good reason, things started going way off track and I stopped them by saying “Everyone stop looking at me!!!”.  yeah, the room fell silent and I pretty well had to pass that off as a moment of temporary insanity.

Overall, the system works.  Being a designer/developer, I’m allowed to be weird and social at the same time.  Except one time more recently at a previous job when I and a friend stood outside the office, shooting the breeze.  A girl we worked with came by and said “Ooh, top secret conversation” and we went on to joke about how we were secret agents.  She smiled and walked inside, but just before she cleared the door I managed to yell “I have a knife!”.

What. The. Fuck.

I’m amazed I wasn’t arrested.  I mean, I did have a pocket knife that I carried all the time, so under questioning it wouldn’t have sounded like a joke.  It would have been a violent threat and I’d have gone to jail.  It’s a good thing she was a complete dingbat.

…And that was the time my social anxiety almost put me in jail.

Do you have any stories like this, or am I just a big weirdo whom you’ll no longer be reading?

If you don’t remember the My Buddy & Kid Sister commercials from the 80s, you probably think I’m crazy.  If you do, you’re already aware that I’m crazy from previous exploits.  Either way, I’ve come here today to share with you my day with my new buddy, Larry Jacobs.  Larry is a zombie sock puppet, made by Chelle over at Coffee & Zombie Movies.

I won him for having the ugliest weird shit.  He’s mine now.  Stop winking at him, because it’s awkard for both of us.  Check out the pictures from our outing:

Larry likes riding in the truck. He was a little leery when I called shotgun, but he settled down after a bit.

I tried to snap a picture just as the plate was hot on the table, but Larry was *really* hungry. The waitress never did come back. It was weird.

After lunch, we visited the Flea Market to find Larry a friend. This is Dr. Bones. They're all BFF and shit.

Larry is one swingin' cat. He insisted on visiting the swings before us, and I had to use the restroom. He's awfully happy, considering it looks like all the kids must have left him. Oh well, keep your chin up larry. Hold it up high.

Larry took a moment on the slide to enjoy the sun. I sniffed all around, but couldn't figure out where someone was cooking bacon.

Larry's shirt suggests he wished these were brains. He found these at the Flea Market. I must admit, they are quite lovely and squishy.

Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, Larry's new favorite book.

Dreaming Zombie Dreams...

So there you have it.  Larry’s mostly hanging around the house nowadays.  He’s really taken a liking to Abraham (Lincoln), our cat.  He’s very helpful, often getting meat out of the deep freeze to thaw for dinner and has only tried to eat my brains once.  He’s such a gentleman.

As you can see, there was a full box of what I’ll call booby-balls, which were like those balls that you squeeze and there is a metallic fluid inside that swirls inside the plastic when you squeeze it.  They were $1, so I bought several.  Expect them as gifts at the next party.  We also bought some homemade treats made from wheat and potatoes, that tasted like pork rinds and looks like bacon.  Pretty fantastic.  Dr. Bones was picked up in a small manga shop where the proprietor sells these and a few other goodies for a friend who makes them.  He was only $20!!!

What would you do if you had Larry for a day?

Would zebra’s choose color?
Would giraffes wear a hat?
Would your dog eat chinese food, and tell you it’s cat?

This poem’s just filler.
This poem’s not great.
This poem’s not going to check your prostate.

Should I buy a car?
Should I buy a truck?
Should I say it’s not for you, would you give a fuck?

I’ve been busy of late.
I’ve been lazy as well.
I’ve been thinking of writing, but that went to hell.

My blog has been quiet…
My blog’s not retired…
My blog’s not entertaining, does that mean I’m fired?

I’ll swear to continue.
I’ll talk about lubes.
I swear if you come back, I’ll show you my boobs.

I’ve kept that mindset with me all my life.  Since I don’t have the next big thing, I’ve not made my move.  You could say I’m lurking, waiting in the wings for that winning idea which will catapult me into national success.  Well, I have a few ideas that I’d like to shoot past you fine people:

Pre-Flavored Fish – Did you know that you can buy lemon-seasoned fish at the store?  For real.  Well, if people like flavored fish I’d like to expand on that market.  What if you could have cherry fish?  Would grape fish suit you better?  Maybe tropical punch fish would satisfy your tropical desires?

I propose that we raise these fish in (get ready) Kool-Aid!  Just think, you mix the Kool-Aid in the water and let the fish do their thing.  “Harvest” however that’s normally done and bingo; flavored fish.

Pre-Aged Wine – Everyone who drinks form their glass with a pinky up knows that old wine is better.  It’s a long process though…  You have to crush the grapes, then ferment the wine, then wait.  Wait, wait wait…  Don’t we do enough waiting?

I propose that instead, we make this wine from grapes.  they’re pre-aged already!  Sure, there’s less juice, but it’s probably the best juice.  Yum.

Rumor Mill – How often have we tried so hard to make a positive impression, only to go unnoticed?  Oh sure, when negative news comes out it’s  a front-page headline.  But how do you get that positive press you need to get that new job?  How do you get the points to impress that hottie you’ve been watching surreptitiously? Maybe you just want your in-laws to like you for something.

I propose a little invention called the Rumor Mill.  This is a small portable device that transmits text messages to people all around you, from other people in their address books.  One moment, you’re a nobody.  The next, 10 people around you have heard from someone that you’re a stud in the sack, or that you used to be in the Secret Service.  What’s that?  Did I just hear lady pants drop?  Maybe.  Just maybe.

I know what you’re thinking.  KeepingYouAwake…  You’re stupid.

You can’t prove that.  Finally, I bring you…

Self-Lighting Cigarettes – Are you a smoker?  No?  Ok, well that’s for the best, but you can’t deny that cigarettes have been making people look “cool” for a really long time.  What’s do you always hear from someone with cigarettes?  They need a light.

I propose self-lighting cigarettes.  The end of each cigarette will have a small blasting cap in it.  All you have to do is cross the wires by touching the butt with your tongue (tee hee) and the cap will explode, lighting the tip.  Dangerous?  Hardly…  Unless you drop them in the pool or something dumb…  Imagine how cool you’d look lighting that.

So there you go.  As a sign of appreciation to my readers, if you want to fight over any of those ideas, they’re yours.  Free for the taking.  All I want in return is a Tshirt with a picture of boobs on it.  No reason…  I’ve just wanted one of those for a while.