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Weekly Wacko (29)

Kids These Days!

Note: This happened in California, and I wrote this while still living in California.

One day after work I decided I didn’t want to make any food. This is common enough. I also didn’t want to drive, so that limited me to one of the few fast food places within easy walking distance.

I left my apartment and was still on the street in my neighborhood. I live in a small apartment complex and am mostly surrounded by houses. This makes it feel more like the neighborhoods I’m used to, which is nice.

Three middle school-aged girls were walking in my direction. I was on the phone, calling my sister (she and I both will call each other to help kill time while walking somewhere or driving somewhere – though I do it much more often than she does. Sorry E$).

While passing me one of the girls yelled, “you’re cute!”

I thought this was pretty funny. Ah, to be young and loud and whatever else they are.

Unexpectedly, I heard a slight noise behind me and then –

SLAP!

One of the girls had doubled back, run up behind me and took it upon herself to slap me on the rear end. The old tuchus. After doing this she began to run away while the other girls giggled like hyenas. She yelled, while still running away, “I like your butt!”

Around that time my sister answer and tried to figure out why I was at the same time scared, amused, and more flattered than I’d care to admit.

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Weekly Wacko (28)

So, A Bear and a Kid Walk Into a Bar

When I was in kindergarten, first and second grades my family lived in Alaska. This provided us with a lot of unique memories, and one of them came on a particular camping trip.

Before you were allowed to find your site and get set up, you had to stop by a park ranger type area to do some things. In at least one of these information/check-in areas, they had a TV on with a video playing about ‘bear safety,’ among other things. What do you do if you run into a bear, especially a female brown bear with kids? Find religion. The videos had some other suggestions, but I think my suggestion is as good as any.

When we went camping it was a lot of fun. The cold weather in the mornings, sleeping on the ground, the constant thought of bears – I loved it. I loved it so much that I opted to sleep in the car.

I actually did really enjoy camping. But I’m nobody’s fool (a car is far more comfortable).

One night, located in my luxurious backseat of Margerie the Mini-Van (other Stanley family cars have been Nancy the Volvo and Yoda the Toyota), I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I tried to see if I could hold off, but no, I couldn’t.

I snuck out of the car and closed the door as quietly as possible.

I started sneaking toward my parents tent – not wanting to wake up everyone, just my Mother (who else would I expect to be my personal bathroom expedition leader?).

Finally I made it to my parents tent, where my Mom was inside.

She was awake.

Completely awake.

Very alert.

And pretty sure that the smartest bear ever was slowly unzipping the flap for the tent she and my father were in.

Man I love camping!

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Weekly Wacko (27)

Punch-Me-in-the-Face-Adorable

When I was in high school I often played with neighborhood kids (it was actually a neighbor mom’s mother who made me realize why – she was asking about my favorite neighborhood growing up and I said Alaska, because even though I was only K – 2nd grade when we lived there, even the ‘big kids’ (ie high school) played sports and stuff with my friends and I. She pointed out that I was now the big kid. Very perceptive and obvious, and it made me feel pretty good to carry on something I thought was so amazing).

One of the kids was a little girl in elementary school. She had apparently developed a crush on me – I would guess it’s because I was a senior in high school, a boy, played with the neighborhood kids, and tall (it was more fun that way when I picked up kids and spun them around or such).

One day she was running around the neighborhood and she decided to come around. She rang the doorbell and I answered. She had, watch out for the oozing amounts of adorable, brought over a juice box for herself and I.

We went outside and drank juice (substitute wine and add forty years and that’s the kind of scene). It was getting dark out so I told her I’d walk her home.

She wanted a piggy back ride so I obliged. Walking across the circular field in the middle of the neighborhood she admitted to me very plainly, “I wish I was a teenager so we could date.”

I mean, come on. I challenge you to out-cute that.

One day, her younger brother walked up to my house as I was sitting outside. It was my senior year of high school. The weather was perfect, and so I walked outside and laid down on the driveway, watching the clouds roll by. The young stud walked up, said “hi” (he was maybe four at the time?) and sat down beside me. He looked over, then laid down like me. Looked over again, so I had my arms behind my head – using them like a pillow, and mimicked that.

I felt like the coolest older brother ever. It’s no wonder I’m a huge fan of that family.

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