WEEKEND OPEN BAR: childhood memories
[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]
Hullo there, chums!
It’s the weekend again, and as such we all need to take some time to enjoy ourselves. Pop open bottles of beer! Blast some tunes! Squeeze some ass! Sure, we all have obligations that need attendin’ – voyages to the supermarket, respect-payings at the in-laws’, survival-games at karate class you signed up for because the lady-sensei has an incredible rack and you’re hopin’ she’ll beat the ever-livin’ shit out of you! But you have to enjoy these days, too!
`Cause what’s the point of havin’ a life if you aren’t goin’ to enjoy livin’ it?
This weekend, I want us all to take the time to think about just how wonderfully foolish we’ve been. Hell, actin’ like an idiot from time to time is a symptom of the perception-granting disease known as human existence. And it’s an important one too, `cause it enables us to learn from our mistakes. Since we’re all guilty of being momentary schmohawks, we might as well call ourselves out on it.
At best, it’ll help us become more actualized human beings. At worst, we’ll get some laughs.
To gain entrance into this weekend’s OPEN BAR, you need to share an embarrassing story from your childhood.
Did you barge into the bathroom to find your Uncle Rojo disinfecting his nether-regions? Care to retell how you asked your mom’s barren friend why she didn’t have any children? What about the time that you told your older sister’s boyfriend that he was hunkier than Hulk Hogan?
Allow me to start the tab at this OPEN BAR.
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I once tried to develop a new form of martial arts.
The entire process only took a single session of second grade recess. Before leaving for school on this particular morning, I’d dedicated a half hour to my favorite Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers knockoff – VR TROOPERS! Although I now understand the show to be nothing more than a cheap attempt to capitalize on the popularity of re-dubbed Japanese mega-kawaii-monster-robot extravaganzas, at the time it was a solid complement to my Eggo breakfasts.
Frozen waffles and monsters and virtual reality? I was fuckin’ sold.
Now, I can’t recall the specific episode from that morning’s viewing, but I know that it features a martial arts training sequence. JB Reese (if I remember correctly) is holed up in a dojo, doing his best to perfect his techniques. There are some quick cuts, shots of fists and feet zippin’ like lightning, showing us that this man is a karate machine. More importantly, when another character enters the dojo and asks JB what he was up to, he self-assuredly replies, “Creating a new style of martial arts.”
Bad ass.
When recess came to me later that day, I knew what I had to do. I spent the duration of that half-hour running about the schoolyard, chopping the air and kicking my stubby legs as high as they could go. I was a man on a quest, determined to chart those territories that had eluded senseis and samurais and ninjas for eons. Kickball? Screw off. Freeze-tag? Blow into a kazoo! Monkey-bar commandos? Kid-stuff!
Overweight and asthmatic, red-faced and sweaty, I was a seven year old in charge of creating the neo-kung fu. Which was awesome. That is, of course, until I was spotted by my friends.
“Rendar, what the fuck are you doing?”
Unflinchingly, I spat out my true intentions, “Why, I’m creating a new style of martial arts!”
I looked at them and realized what I’d just said. They looked at me and realized I was a maniac. We tacitly agreed to part ways – they returned to chasing the girls who’d end up giving them the time in high school, and I struggled to catch my breath while trying to figure out why my moves weren’t as impressive as JB Reese’s.
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Share an embarrassing story from your childhood!