So here's something awkward. The neighbor kid, who normally hangs out with Mr. Z, has decided that he no longer wants anything to do with Mr. Z. What the shit is that about?! That's not his choice. He should feel honored that Mr. Z wants anything to do with him, goddamn it.
Anyway, it sucks, because Mr. Z is taking it very personally. He can't understand why, one day, everything is hunky-dory and the next day, he's a fucking pariah. I tried to explain that kids (other kids) are fucked up and they're all little bastards, and that this whole thing has nothing to do with him. I don't think he was buying what I was selling, though. He tends to dwell on things like this, and I'm sure he'll be battling with it for awhile.
Oh, and to make things even more difficult on him, we realized that we're going to be out of town for his little puppet show at school. Yeah, can you believe that shit?! After I sewed that goddamn "The Messenger" outfit?! He was beside himself when he/we found out. I felt like a GIANT ASS. I'm going to ask his teacher if they can maybe do a dress-rehearsal the day before so I can come in and video it, or something. Basically, I'm a fucking dick.
So yeah, we're going to Chicago a week from Thursday to drop the kiddlies at my folks' house, and then the old lady and I are going to my 20-fucking-year college reunion in the middle of Iowa. Technically, it's my 19th, but the school is so small that they clump a bunch of years together to make it worth one's while. I'm actually looking forward to it in a big way. College was the best eight years of my life -- HA! See what I did there? I pretended that it took me eight years to complete my degree, when it really only took me seven. Oh, SNAP! Hoo-boy!
Seriously, though, it was a great place to go to school. In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by total outcasts, like myself, who never quite "fit the mold," man. You could try anything at this place -- Rugby? Played it. Radio station? Program director. 'Shrooms? Ate them. Bands? I was basically the only guy with drums on campus, so I got to play in a bunch of bands: "Caesarean Sexion," "Christ Skin Boots" (our singer was the son of the campus pastor... surprise), "The Non-Dairy Creamers," "She-Man & the Masters of the Universe." And to top it off, I met the old lady there. So shit, for a chucklehead like myself, the place was nirvana.
And my life has plummeted downhill ever since.
But it'll definitely be fun to go back and awkwardly hang out with people I now have nothing in common with.
And play frisbee with them.
And their children.
Shit, why the fuck am I driving all the way to Iowa?
3 comments:
Shit, why the fuck am I driving all the way to Iowa?
So you can see what a cool dude you are and the fact that all your outcast mates live up to the reputation that they are still outcasts, LOL.
Seriously though, make sure your son knows he is still important and tell him that the neighbours son is a major fucktard for behaving such an asshat way!!!It is the example of what he shouldn't do to other kids...and that kid will never have great longterm friends...such as yours from your old school, LOL!! :)
Don't mind me, I'm a random passerby that is addicted to your blog. Anyway, have fun at the reunion and it's a bummer about Mr. Z. I'm sure he'll buck up, though. He sounds like quite the trooper and will soon realize he's superior to the dipshit-kid up the street.
Rose
I lived in the town you went to school in, but I live in Costa Rica now. I remember Christ Skin Boots and I remember she man and the masters of the universe, crabbydad. Do you remember the duclods? The alumni mag had a great article - investigative journalism - someone tracked down the duclod graffitist and interviewed him (nutter)!
I was a townie, but a faculty brat and a dual enrollment - high school and college - student so I hung out on campus quite a bit before going off for my own school adventure.
Now I left beautiful Grinnell and got the hell off to a new place. Please accept this shameless plug for a beautiful property in Jaco Costa Rica - Jaco hotel DoceLunas.
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