Crapblogging, neighborhood style
Amazing how the mind works. I’m thinking about goldfish, which leads me to think of my old bike, and next I’m thinking about Gogi Miller.
Gogy (gary. He had a speech impediment that made it hard to say gary so he said gogi, and that’s what everyone called him) was at our house with his family, (this was before they became Jehovah’s Witnesses and all-around god-botherors) and we’d all had some of mom’s excellent potroast. We kids were playing in my room, while the adults watched TV (the millers had a black and white, we’d just upgraded to color)
Anyway, halfway through a game of “sorry” Gogi gets up and goes into the living room, whispers in his mom’s ear.
“You can use the bathroom here, it’t in the same place as our house!” (the homes in our neighborhood were all practically identical or at worst, mirror images.) More whispering “okay, go home, but come right back.”
So gogi left and ran down the street, hopefully, making it to the bathroom on time. Anyway, we all sit in the living room, waiting for Gogi to come back, and soon enough the TV has distracted us. Marlin Perkins is telling Jim to go wrestle the lion while Marlin stands behind the big rock. I Stick my head up over the back of the couch and peer out the window, and see Gogi coming down the street.
Gogi is a sort of a slow learner. He’s six, and has yet to be able to adequately wipe himself after big potty. Since he’s gone home to use his “comfort zone” potty (boy, don’t we all understand that as we get older, huh? ) but he doesn’t trust himself to wipe completely clean, he is hopping down the street, pants and underpants around his ankles, and a wad of asswipe in each hand. Gogi’s mom rushes out, uses the asswipe to clean him up, and pulls up his drawers. Not before the entire neighborhood gets a good look at his six year old ass hopping down the street.
It’s really no wonder I ended up so fucked up, I swear.
I had such a tame childhood compared to you.
Imagine what I WON’T post, contagious one.
Amazing how that Comfort Zone thing works, innit?
Og: No thanks.
I saw Marlin and Jim in person when they were doing a Zoo Parade show by the big cats’ outdoor cages. People were setting up lights and what not (it was late afternoon) and someone carried a small raccoon past the cages, which got the cats outside and pacing up and down. Then I saw these two men with bright orangy-pink faces–TV makeup. If Nixon had that done to his face for the debate with Kennedy, history might have taken a different turn.
Don’t I know it. I’m only about 5 miles from my place of work. I swear I’m more anal-retentive now then I was as a toddler.
Which reminds me of a story that Mom still talked about as recently as two years ago: “I would ask you, ‘Do you have to go potty, Ne-Ne?’. You’d say, ‘No. Nope!’ with this innocent look on your face. Then I’d leave the room, I’d hear a muffled grunt, and I’d find you in the family room closet with a load in your diaper.”
“than” dammit. “than”!
OK, so there’re other things I’m “anal” about.
heh