Little Treasures

Going back to the place you grew up in is an extraordinary experience. While there, you may find yourself being a little bit more sentimental than you are used to. Walking around with eyes closed, taking in all the sights, sounds and smells. The sensations touch something deep inside you. Ancient feelings rushed to the forefront of your mind, born anew. You notice that, for better or worse, your home will always be a part of you, having a profound influence on who you are today, and what you will become. On my recent trip back to the place of my upbringing, being there conjured up an unexpected memory. Something that had happened while I was very young, perhaps eight or nine, which had stayed hidden from in my sub conscience for years. Yet, when it finally came back, I remembered it as clear and as vividly as it were yesterday. An event so storied and powerful, it’s a wonder I even forgot.

I almost ate poop.

Now I know what you’re thinking. No, I wasn’t some savage going throughout the house, lurking in the shadows behind the toilet, pouncing just before the flush to gorge on the delicious morsels. I was a semi-normal child. I didn’t even like poop or the act of pooping, and for good reason! Not only did my dad constantly think that I was constipated, giving me way too many suppositories, but I was also afraid the blob was going to come down and eat me while I was alone in the bathroom. It was a double poop hating whammy jam.

So eating poop, yes. It started with a deep love of chocolate. Oh, I was a vicious little fuck. I would climb over mountains of tables and counters, sneak into ever-watched keeps of highly secured cabinets, all to reach my prized chocolate, or chocolate cookies, or whatever we had in the house. I would sneak two for breakfast, five for lunch, and ten for dinner. I would go shopping with my mother with the sole purpose of getting to that choclate heaven, the super market, and raid the aisles with the skill and precisian of a Roman Centurion. If we didn’t have a suitable treat in the house, I would, like MacGyver, create a concoction of semi-sweet chocolate chips in a spoon of chunky peanut butter…or six, a suitable snack for the weary chocolate madman. I could of been slightly chubby then, but shit, I wanted my chocolate. Bitches knew not to get in my way.

One day I found a chocolate chip on the floor. I was ecstatic. It was like finding buried treasure. I quickly, without thought as to how long it had been on the floor or how it had gotten there, picked it up and ate it. It was delicious. I was the chocolate conjurer, a chocolate pirate.

A couple weeks later I found yet another chocolate chip on the floor. “Sweet! Another chocolate chip!” I thought to myself, “The chocolate pirate strikes again! Come here my little treasure”. I picked up the chip, was about to put it into my mouth, and for some reason that I cannot comprehend, I stopped. I looked at the chip. It looked like the last one I had eaten, slightly deformed. Probably due to being left on the floor and stepped on for the past couple of days, but that shouldn’t of been a problem. Why I smelt the chip I do not know, but I did. It quite the smell I expected. I smelt again, and again, and again. Wait, no, was it…yes, It was…poop. I threw it back on the floor, happy. I had caught myself before putting the poop in my mouth. It didn’t deter me in the slightest. “My sisters, of course”, I thought, “The chocolate pirate evades yet another trap from the Kraken’s vile butt”. I was a genius. Great memory, huh? Ahh, being home again.
Chocolate or Poop

Now I realize that there is great attention paid to the similarities between chocolate and poop. I feel that many of you, the awesome readers of this blog, may have their own confusing poop for chocolate stories themselves; Whether it be finding a nice warm turd in a baking pan, or being presented with a brown present from your son or daughter. I want to know these stories! I happen to have grown a great appreciation for the ever chancing brown substance that we create. Please, feel free to share in the comments section!

Until next time!


A Dirty Trick at Summer Camp

Childhood innocence.A large portion of this blog so far has been realizations of wrong doing from my childhood. As a child you may not realize how your actions affect the world around you. Most things are easily forgotten, and many times you just think of serious major events in your life as funny or even hilarious. Yesterday, as I laid in bed I suddenly remembered one of these days. What transpired was ethically and morally wrong and probably illegal. I was a major player in the operation and I loved every second of it. However, at my young malicious young age, I hadn’t quote realized the possible ramifications of my actions and the actions of others. Oh, innocence.

It was around the summer of ’95, at a one week sleep away camp in near Providence, Rhode Island. As with most summer camps, it was equipped with a large natural lake for swimming in. I loved swimming, so naturally this was my favorite part of the day. Every 15 to 20 minutes or so, the lifeguards would blow a whistle; we would then have to find our buddy, hold and raise our hands in the air so they knew everyone was accounted for. Pretty standard. Here’s where the story gets interesting.
Buddy CheckOne day, me and my buddy were getting ready for a nice long session of swimming when one of the lifeguards approached us. He asked us if we could help him with special project, and it was very important. Of course, as a lifeguard is supposed to be a very trustworthy individual, we agreed. He then took us to the woods and told my friend to pull down his trunks. Woah, wait, sorry, sorry. That’s not how it went. Let me continue the real story. He wanted my friend to go out and play in the lake for a couple of minutes, while he wanted me to go hide out in a shed until the next buddy check. Then during the next buddy check, he wanted my friend to go up to a lifeguard and tell him I was missing. We thought this was awesome. We were gonna trick everyone in the camp that I was drowning or dead. I was excited, he was excited. This was going to be great, and boy was it ever.
I was brought to the shed. A man was inside. His “thing” was gorging. He told me to pull down my trunks and show him my tight… woah, what the fuck. Where are these outbursts coming from? I must apologize as it is ruining the integrity of my story. Anyway, I was only in there for about 5 minutes but it felt like hours. Finally, the whistle blew and they started the buddy check. As planned, my friend came out and told the lifeguards that he couldn’t find me anywhere. And boy, was he convincing. I could hear the pain and worry in his voice. I could see the fear in his eyes. He was on the brink of tears. He deserved an oscar for that performance. Thats when all hell broke loose.

They made all the campers get out of the lake. The counselors, panicked, got in in a big line, and began combing the waters, diving around, all frantickly searching for me. A couple were crying hysterically. I couldn’t contain my laughter. This went on for about 3 minutes, just to the point where they all thought I was dead. One of the lifeguards then came to get me out of the shed, and presented me to the nearly dead from panic counselors. The missing camper, safe all along. They were incredibly relived of course. I got a few head locks, noogies, and “Urrrghh, youuu” while in tears from them. My memory kind of fades off after that, but me and my friend were thoroughly proud of ourselves. For some reason my butt hurt as well.

Now zoom back to today. As an adult I can put this event into some perspective. How fucked up was that? I mean seriously, making people thing a kid is dead? Drowned in a lake? And this wasn’t something they could do every week, or even every summer. It wouldn’t be believable that way. This is something that had have been never done before at the camp. Those lifeguards came up with it to fuck with everybody’s minds. To “train” them. I wonder what kind of ass munching these guys got from the counselors after that big drill of theirs. I wonder if they were fired. I still love those guys for giving me that amazing “get to see everyones reactions after your death” experience. It was awesome. I just didn’t understand at that age that child molestation, I mean, that that kind irresponsible action was probably not acceptable. I hope I’m mature enough to understand it now.


Sleepy Saturdays: Sailor Moon

I think you guys should know by now I’m pretty non-functional on Saturdays. Hung over, tired, and sleepy. I can’t even think, let alone write. That’s why on my Sleepy Saturdays I bring you the best hangover cures to sooth that aching headache, and maybe even make your stone face smile. Today I present to you one of the most perverted ideas for a show ever, Sailor Moon. Five Japanese school girls who turn into panty flashing superhero school girls. Amazing. Well, needless to say, I watched. I liked this show way too much. I could have been watching for another reason, but I can’t confirm that, see “How I Discovered Porn”.

So for all you closet Sailor Moon fans out there, here’s a trip down memory lane:

I know this song by heart. Dead serious.

Here’s where she gets all naked. Sweet!

Ahh. Wasn’t that nice? Are you filled with the warm bubbly feelings of nostalgia? I hope so. I leave you with this. If you can’t tell, that’s Sailor Mars giving a super badass kick in a skirt. Enjoy!
Sailor Mar's Panties

How I Discovered Porn

I think every living, breathing person on this earth has watched porn at one time or another. Do you remember the exact moment it happened? Did you catch your parents watching it? Did your brother show it to you? Did someone at school tell you about it? Did you have HBO as a kid? I bet you can’t even remember exactly how you learned about this fundamental human right. Well, it just so happens I remember exactly how I did. And I got to say, it changed my life forever.

I was a young, strapping, innocent boy of around 9 or 10. If you’ve kept up on the blog at all, definitely around my exploratory girl toy phase. This was the time when the internet really starting booming, and my house was connected, oh yeah. We had a brand new Mac Power PC 6500 with 300 MHz of pure silicone heaven, connected to a blazingly fast 56k dial-up modem. We could be hooked up to the internet in all of 1.5 minutes. It was amazing.

A lot of times when my older brother would have friends over, I would shadow them. I was pretty cool myself, and had hundreds of my own friends, but there was something really special about hanging out with 14 year-olds. It was so awesome. So one day, my brother had a friend over named Aaron. My brother thought it would be a good idea to go on our new computer and surf the web for a little. They went on to the best search engine at the time, excite, and were trying to figure out what they were going to look up. With a malicious look on his face, Aaron jumped into the drivers seat and typed in four letters. The most important and influential four letter of my life. P-O-R-N, porn. Me not having heard of this word before thought nothing of it, but my brother, with superhuman speed and agility, jumped over his friend, and deleted the search. This was the impetus that would change everything.

As a curious and tech savvy 10 year old would, I committed the word to memory, and waited for a time where I had the computer to myself to see what this forbidden word was. When the time finally arrived, I went back to excite, typed in the word, and hit search. What awaited me was beyond anything in my wildest dreams.

A world of naked women lay before me. All I had to do was click, and I had access to blonds, brunettes, asians, whatever! Pictures of all the most beautiful women I had ever seen, with breasts! I had discovered the greatest thing in my life. Better than toys, better than friends, definitely better than school. I had been so entranced by porn that I had become immediately addicted. I wanted to watch it at all times. I started pretending I was sick so I could stay at home at watch it. I remember looking at a list of my absences and I had missed over 20 days for the school year. There are only about 20 weekdays in month, so I missed about a month of school that year to look at pictures of naked women. That has to be a record for a 10 year old.

Since my mom has an avid reader of my blog now (fuck), and I had never told her this story (or anyone for that matter), I had to come clean to her her before publishing; just to make sure she wouldn’t still be angry over something I did almost 15 years ago. She was surprised, but also told me “It’s totally normal for an elementary school boy to do that kind of SHIT”. Love you, Mom.

If you want to talk to your kids about porn, like my parents failed to do with me, go to this website… it will help. Hahahahaaahhahahahaahhaahhahah!

The Porn Talk

Sleepy Saturdays: Monsters Under Your Bed

I never personally believed in this, but I’ve been giving it some seriously thought recently. If you actually believed that there were monsters under your bed, how frickin’ scary would that have been? Just some huge malevolent force chillin’ under your bed. These monsters don’t just appear out of nowhere. First you need something to give you idea; Steven Spielberg’s “Poltergeist” would work (the origin of all clown fears, damn clown monster). I must of seen this movie hundreds of times when I was a kid.

The next step is imagination, and a kids imagination can royally fuck them. Look at these real monsters that kids have come up with:

And there you have it. The basis for all mentally disturbed children. You think child abuse, and divorces fuck up children? Imagine a kid thinking there’s a huge thing trying to eat them under their bed all the time. No comparison.


I Played With Girls Toys and Enjoyed It

GI Joes, Transformers, Remote Control Cars, and Legos. Yeah, I played with all those things. I enjoyed them very much. But there was something else, something much more… feminine that I liked to play with. My parents never had a problem with it, and I never gave it a second thought until now. I remember this very fondly, but I also do realize that what I was really doing was playing with girly toys.
When I was younger I had many girl friends. I had more girl friends then I did boy friends (They all wanted to marry by the way, not to boast). I would go to these girl friends houses and play with them. One friend in particular I really had a good time with. So what did we play? We played house, and we played house with Barbie dolls. She had it all. She had tons of Barbies, a Barbie dream house, a Barbie convertible, and of course Ken, Barbie’s cool boyfriend. I would be Ken, and my friend would be Barbie. We were married, (or soon to be married) and we had a life together, with a house, and a car, and a dog. Sometimes we would put our dolls in bed and make them kiss, cause that’s what adults did in bed. I wouldn’t look of course, because that was gross.

I loved this. That’s all I wanted to do. For a while I hadn’t brought this girly infection back home with me, but it wasn’t contained for long. One day I went to my this girls house, and she had the coolest Barbie doll I had ever seen. It was Aladdin, from the recently released Aladdin disney movie. It was awesome. It came with two costumes, Aladdin street rat, and Aladdin prince. It also had a little pet Apu! It could fly in my mind. Pure awesome. I played with it a couple of times at my friends house untill I couldn’t help myself and I asked my mom to get it for me for Christmas. In a house that didn’t allow any videogames (which at this time meant Super Nintendo and Sega Genesis), this was my best option that year. The girly toys had invaded my home. It was badass.

This went on and off till around 4th grade. After that I had changed schools, and lost of of my girlfriends so I had to play with boy stuff again. Well, it was good while it lasted.

I’m not ashamed of my dabbling into girls toys. It was awesome. I had a great time. Sometimes I would strip my dolls down and would make them dance naked. Totally not girly. And look at me now, a badass bro, ruling the world with my words. It was worth every minute.