I feel like I'm fairly open on my blog. I've touched on job hunts, party habits, sports allegiances, but never some of the most awful things that have happened to me. Since I consider you all my friends, I'm ready to share some of my deepest, darkest secrets.
5. Asking a Girl Out for the First Time
As I've freely admitted, I'm not terribly awesome with women. That being said, I was horrifyingly bad with girls in elementary school. I didn't talk to them. Ever. Why would I? Still, I had a new crush every month or so.
When 4th grade finally rolled around, I was finally ready to strike. By strike, I mean meekly write an "I like you" note, cross my fingers and hope for the best. I tried this with 2 different girls (Not at the same time; even then I wasn't that dumb.). I didn't get bad results. The reason? I got no results at all. They got the notes, told all their friends, then said nothing to me about them. Ever. What the hell? At least tell me, "I don't like you or your fat face." The silence cut like a knife. Oh well; bitches gonna be bitches.
4. Nearly Drowned...Twice
My lovely grandparents took the kids from my mom's side of the family on a camping trip to Big Sandy. The campground had a lake with a large swimming area. To paint a picture, I'm still a terrible swimmer. My best stroke isn't the breaststroke or backstroke, it's the struggle and sink. Somehow, my brother and I ventured out a bit too far, and started fighting for our lives. My grampa saved my bro and my cousin saved me. Later that trip, we set a tree on fire trying to make torches with sap. My poor grandparents.
Fast forward to the summer before 8th grade. I was on a sailing trip to the Apostle Islands with my family. We approached the first island, and anchored with my parents' friends' boat. Their son was slightly older and swam like he wasn't wearing concrete shoes. He decided to swim in. I decided to, too. Luckily, he decided to save me when I freaked out halfway and nearly drowned...again.
3. The 1998 NFC Championship Game
Clearly, I've always hated myself, because my first love was the Minnesota Vikings. Some of my earliest memories are of watching heartbreaking Vikings games. The '98 Vikes were different though. They were the best team the NFL had seen in years, they damn near went undefeated and they had Randy Moss in full-on Freak mode. This was going to be the team that finally brought the Super Bowl championship to Minnesota.
Then they didn't. They choked against the rotten, overachieving, stupid dancing, no-good-nothings the Atlanta Falcons. I was devastated. I threw a shit fit in the back room of my grandparents house (Those poor, wonderful people.). I was roughly 5 years too old to cry about a football game at that point, but it sure didn't stop me. Oh well, at least the Vikes have made up for it since. Damn it.
2. Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Again, I'm not real great with women generally. However, one was seduced by my bullshit to date me for about a year. The problem was, we were in college, she went home for the summer, and things went south quickly. Honestly, we were both miserable at the time, although I wasn't ready to admit it then.
Finally, she broke up with me. We decided we would give it two weeks to see if anything would change. I like to think my crisis management skills are much better now, but here's how I coped during those couple weeks. I:
-Grew a Beard
-Drank heavily nightly
-Threw up off the front porch
-Got tossed from a slow pitch softball game
By the time we talked again, I was mostly just relieved it was all over. Eventually, I shaved, the drinking lessened somewhat and I haven't been thrown out of any more games. Yet.
1. Birthday Party Surprise
When I was in the 1st grade, I went over to one of my buddy's birthday parties. His family lived in an awesome house down on London Rd. As I recall, it was quite the event. Games were played, cake was served, I sharted my pants, presents were given. This was such a traumatic experience, I don't even remember how I got out of there. I know I tried to clean myself up and hid in the bathroom. I imagine my mom picked me up and I never spoke to any of them ever again, though I can't say for sure.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the trip into my dark past. I'm sure I'll write about beer or something again very soon.