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I often think about how my father didn’t take much time out to play with me. Sure, he let me touch a skeleton once and he would take me down to the train station to throw rocks at the boxcars, but other than that he was a pretty busy man and kept to himself.
My mother was pretty solitary too. Once the family could afford a second television, she put it in her bedroom, closed the door and never came out again. Once a month a check for her portion of the rent would appear from under the door. In the morning my sisters would leave a tray of cheese grits and cup of coffee for her outside the door. At night, my brother left ham biscuits. We would crouch by the door and could hear, faintly, the sound of University of Kentucky Men’s Basketball games and laughter.
Sometimes I wish they’d done more with us, but most of the time I am okay with how I turned out.
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This post is a ghost post, existing in the ether of the internet. This is the internet twilight zone.
#doodeedooDOOdoodeedooDOO
Well, NOW I look crazy. I posted that comment when this post was floating lonely in the web.
Still nonsensical? Fuck it, I have food poisoning. The fact that I have not been commenting my reactions to my fever hallucinations should be good enough*
*that would either be so boring or so entertaining. So far they have involved batman and tommy weiseau
Ahh, if there was one thing I needed, it was more fodder for my illness night terrors. Thanks, R2!
THANK YOU. I home school my kids and was having trouble coming up with ideas for the “Simple Machines” unit.
Oedipus Mans.
I want to be launched into the air like that!
As a kid who wasn’t allowed to climb trees, run too fast, talk too loudly, play video games or eat anything with fructose, I salute this man.
Yep. There’s a picture of me in my kiddie pool when I’m 3 or 4 with about an inch of water in it. My mother was taking no chances.
We are okay with how you turned out too, Mans. More than a little okay with it, in fact.
I have had this on my harddrive for literally forever (since before the creation of the earth, heaven, or stars, there was my work computer floating in the primordial ooze. My work computer is really gross).
The poor mans ‘The Blob’.
My parents, both fancy-schmancy former college athletes, used to stand 25 feet apart and throw me to each other, when I was about 9 months old. Last time I asked, they weren’t really trying to kill me, just trying to make sure they were constantly entertained by my existence.
What’s the point of having a baby if you can’t throw them around sometimes?
“Pssshhhh, that’s nothing.” – Richard and Mayumi Heene
I recently learned this little factoid: When my mom was 7 months pregnant with me she, my dad, and some friends of theirs went to an apple orchard. They decided to play “apple tag,” which consisted of them throwing apples at each other. As she was pregnant, the rule for my mom was that you can’t hit her with the apple, but if it bounces within 3 feet of her, she’s “out.” Sure enough, an apple bounced within three feet, took a crazy bounce, and hit her right in the stomach, approximately where my soft, unborn head was. So much of my life makes sense now.
That story didn’t shake me to the core; in fact I found it ap-peal-ling.
I think we know where the root of Lawblog’s problems stem from
I actually found it the opposite, Mr Wrong. Apple-ing behavior, if I do say so myself.
exactly whose cider you on here, Mr. Lloyd Wrong?
How bout THEM apples? Huh? HUH?! Ammirite???
Actually, related, my mother was playing tennis competitively when she was 8 months pregnant. I’m sure that’s a completely normal, safe thing a pregnant woman should do.
I swear I hit the reply button lawblog. Boooooooooooooo
Your mom is my hero.
My parents would put a few spoonfuls of Cognac in my milk bottle everytime I had trouble sleeping. I like to think I turned out ok, considering.
Kids: “Can we go to Six Flags, pleassssse?”
Dad: “Shut up and get on the mattress.”
For the full experience he made them stand outside in the sun for 2 hours beforehand
This is quite disturbing out of context.
I wrote this, read it, looked around for Chris Hanson, then hit submit comment and ran like Hell.
It’s good to see Kentucky represented on Videogum. I know your pain, Mans!
Cheese grits and biscuits? I want your mom’s life.
My little sister was terribly afraid of wolves when she was about six years old. One night, my mom propped a ladder outside of her bedroom window and waited until dad flipped the breaker in the basement to make howling noises right by her tiny little bed. I waited outside of her door to laugh as she ran screaming. Family time! (True story.)
In retrospect, my parents were only a little older than I am now. It’s not like they were out drinking and having REAL fun. You make entertainment where you can.
My parents would lock me outside and film me while I played “Run From the Stray Dogs”. It’s their laughter I remember most, and their screams from that one time I set the house on fire, but mostly their laughter.
Every Mans post sounds like an Anthony Hopkins narration.
NO! What you do with mattresses is put one on the stairs and then slide down it on a pillow case into a pile of pillows on top of ANOTHER mattress!
the one question i never asked is why we had so many mattresses: turns out my mom has a real problem with hoarding.