The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Weekly Wacko’

Weekly Wacko (4)

I never drank until college, and my mom learned that a fun way one day.

The summer before my senior year of high school, a neighbor moved and gave us tiny bottles of liquor since they didn’t want them to break during the move. Or maybe they wanted my family to get very slightly drunk.

I had come home from school and was hanging out in the kitchen, probably staring at our food and wondering why my mom hates me (we never, not once, had an endless supply of doughnuts).

A thought came to me.

“Hey mom … can I try a shot of whiskey?”

I explained to her that I wanted to see if it’s like in the movies. If I took a shot, would I then involuntarily sort of wheeze/cough?

It’s pathetic what a mamma’s boy I am.

She agreed to it, I won’t even guess at her line of thinking during all of this.

She opened the tiny bottle, got out a shot glass (which I was surprised to see), and poured me a shot.

I grinned, picked it up, pretended to be like some sort of pro-alcoholic, and boom!, took the shot.

One second.

Two seconds.

Cough/wheeze.

It worked! It was just like I’d pictured, except for just about everything, starting with the fact that my Mother poured the shot.

Weekly Wacko (3)

For Halloween this year I went to the Castro, in San Francisco. The Castro, for those of you who don’t know, is San Francisco’s gayborhood. Yes, San Francisco is known as somewhat of a city-wide gayborhood, but the Castro is high-concentration gayborhood-ness.

It’s a great area for people watching, especially on Halloween. Here are some pictures I took from that night.

Here I am. I am a “cereal killer.” This costume did not really make a big splash because no one got it. My “knife” was a switch blade comb (I was going to be a greaser).
A friend and I were walking around taking photos of people, and people watching. I started quizzing people who would stare at me. My friend was dressed as Luigi, and I have to admit, I had Luigi-envy, because everyone got him right away. Me? No such luck.

“Can you tell what I am?”

“Uhh …”

Holding up the switch blade comb to a box of cereal, as though I’m going to cut it, I say, “pretend this is a knife.”

“It’s Halloween. I don’t have to pretend anything.”

What do you say to that?

me

Ahhh, the insanity. We were confined to sidewalks to so it was very hard to get around. I am so glad, during times like these, that I’m somewhat tall. I can at least get some fresh air that way.

Trick or Cheese! 612

No snark from me, just thought this was a cool costume.

Trick or Cheese! 619

Seems about right.

Trick or Cheese! 634

Yep.

Trick or Cheese! 635

“Honey, we’re visiting San Francisco. We should go to the ‘gay’ part of town.”

“Why, what’s there?”

“Nothing, it’d just be fun to walk around!”

“Well, allllll riiiiight.”

Trick or Cheese! 636

Take out food, za-zing!

Trick or Cheese! 663

Such an awesome costume!

Trick or Cheese! 673

California Raisons! Great costume idea. Luigi and I agreed, any costume is better when done team-style.

Trick or Cheese! 696

Me-ow.

Trick or Cheese! 682

Happy belated Halloween everyone!

Trick or Cheese! 691

(See more Weekly Wacko’s here.)

Weekly Wacko (2)

My junior and senior years of high school I consistently volunteered at a Youth Center at Hunter Army Airfield. I worked with elementary school kids, helping them to figure out their homework, or if they didn’t have any they would have me touch the ceiling (my lanky 6′3 frame was an easy source of amusement).

One of the employees at the Youth Center was Miss Grant. Miss Grant enjoyed having me around, and she was (as well as the other folks who worked there) great to work with. One day Miss Grant came up to me after I’d been helping some kids for a while.

“Well?,” she said, with a heavy dose of expectation on that word.

“Uh …,” I said, not sure what I’d missed.

She stared me down for a while, “aren’t you going to congratulate me?,” she finally said, again with the implication that I should be ashamed I hadn’t said anything first.

“Uh …,” I said, no less confused than before, but now feeling guilty.

She rubbed her belly.

“Uhhh …,” again, still unsure, but the way she rubbed her belly could only mean one thing, “you’re … you’re pregnant?! Congratulations!”

Trapped.

“WHAT?! I’m pregnant!?!”

Terror, fear, horror, guilt, worry.

“How dare you say I’m pregnant! I know I could lose some weight but -”

Then, she cracked up.

“That was fun,” she said, smiling, and walked away.