Welcome to a new and improved blog piece. Actually it’s not new or improved in any way. I’m trying to keep the standards around here at their normal “abysmally low”. In any case, I just had an idea to do this blog in this fashion. I would write about whatever the fuck pops in my head at any given time. And here we go with number 5.
This blog. I thought it might be interesting to do this blog, so I am doing it. And I also just realized that my finger hurts. I cut it at work the other night, right across the tip, and now it looks like a mouth. I’ve been making it open and close off and on, to make it look like it’s talking, but that’s not helping the healing process. Neither is typing, by the way, which really fucking hurts. Here’s a picture.
Just kidding, I don’t have my phone on me. Maybe I’ll take a picture later and post it. Anyway, typing sucks.
I had a collie once when I was a kid. My dad heard she was related somewhere down the line to the original Lassie. And logic would say that since the original Lassie was the smartest dog ever, this dog, albeit a dozen generations later (apparently) should be just as smart, right? Plus it’s a Collie, one of the smarter dogs known to man.
My dad shelled out $200 for the pup and we brought her cute ass home. Oh she was a gorgeous dog, but quite possibly the dumbest animal to ever walk the earth. Like, inbred dumb. Several generations of inbreeding dumb.
Apparently the people we got it off of, if they were telling the truth and the dog was actually a descendant of the original Lassie, had one day in the past bought a dog off of the original Lassie’s family line and kept breeding it generation after generation just to be able to say it’s a direct descendant, even though it was ready to marry its cousin.
This dog wasn’t trained very well, I will say, but I don’t believe training worked out all that well, because the dog was so dumb. My dad built her a pen in the back yard, fully equipped with a dog house, and let her live there, sad as it was.
She spent her time either sleeping, or running in circles around her dog house from morning to night, never stopping. Even if someone walked past our back yard, she would bark, but she wouldn’t stop running in that circle.
Dad took her to the vet and the vet constantly told us that she was 10 pounds under weight, but there was nothing we could do. We fed her and she ate, but she never stopped running. I guess she was always concerned with her figure.
Finally, one day during the summer, dad told us all that she ran off, which she was prone to do, and we never saw her again. I’m sure he sent her off to some farm or something, maybe the SPCA. Sometimes I miss that dog, watching her run in circles, over and over and over and over…
Speaking of my dad, he used to take me to all kinds of awesome things when I was a kid. Thinking back on it, he took me to ball games all the time, concerts and even wrestling shows. Every time the WWF (that’s World Wrestling Federation, not World Wildlife Fund, this was years before THAT lawsuit) came through, my dad would take me down to the Coliseum to watch a night of slams and clotheslines. Once we had to get tickets off of someone outside the venue, that was my first time dealing with ticket scalpers.
But the tickets were good ones, we were about ten rows from ringside, right along the aisle where the wrestlers came out to go to the ring. That was the first time I had ever been that close to the action. This happened right after the Undertaker had debuted and when I first saw him live, I’ll never forget how much of a presence that man had, even still to this day. He definitely pulled off the part to perfection. He wrestled “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan and destroyed him.
Also that night, behind us by a couple of rows sat George “The Animal” Steele, dressed up in a nice suit. Apparently he was just hanging out for the night. We also got to watch Sgt. Slaughter wrestle. This was about the time he was a good guy, because after he won everyone was all excited. I ran to the aisle and saluted him as he left the ring carrying the American Flag. He saluted me back and shook my hand. His hand was the size of a three year old. And sweaty.
That was just one of many wrestling gigs my dad took me to. We often finished the night at White Castles. He also took me to see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles live at the Gardens. They performed this awesome play in front of us while scattering their hit songs all throughout. Their songs could be purchased on cassette from any Pizza Hut, called “Coming Out Of Their Shells”. I had a copy, and listened to it a million times. I wish I still had it. They even had a VHS release of the show…
Oh god that’s gay. I think I’m glad I don’t have the album any more.
Dad also took me to see the Reds play a lot at the old Riverfront Stadium. Nothing could ever replace the memory of seeing that green ball field as you walk through the doors and into the seating area. That same field you had seen so many times on TV, and oh how TV did it no justice. Being there, nothing will ever beat that. Thanks, dad.
Seems like I’ve spoken on this before, but I will again. When I was a kid my step sisters and I, usually just Brandy and I, would create ways to destroy the house and property it sat on just to keep ourselves entertained.
It was hot in the summer and we didn’t have that fancy A/C to keep us cool, so we had to find ways to do that ourselves. While my dad and her mom were at work, we would take our garbage cans to the front yard, yes, to the front so all of our neighbors could see just how trashy we were (pardon the pun, seriously), we would fill them up with water from the hose, and we would each jump in one and sit in it. That’s how we went swimming. We’d stay in it until we got bored and we would climb out, flood the front yard by emptying the cans there, and put them back.
We would also take the hose to the back yard, which was mostly a hill down and away from the house, and we would flood the hill so that it got as muddy as possible. We would then slide down it, and then fight each other while trying to climb back up it and be the first to the top. By the end of the day we would waste hundreds of gallons of water and we would both be completely covered from head to toe in mud.
Also, the grass never got to grow on that hill. Dad was pissed. Sorry, dad.
I don’t know why I thought of my dad so much tonight, but it worked out for some good stories. Here’s another. We collected food stamps when I was a kid, and back then it wasn’t on a debit card, it was actual money looking food stamps, of the paper variety. When my step mom was out of work, each day she would give us kids a couple dollars a piece in food stamps and we would walk down the street to the local penny candy store, the name of which I’ll never remember, and we would spend all of our food stamps on candy.
100 Swedish Fish in a paper bag, straight out of a big glass container with a scoop, for a dollar. What a great country we lived in.
We’d also get Chick-A-Sticks, bubble gum that tasted like root beer, and 2-liters of pop that we would drink on the way home. We would be loaded up. Then we’d go home, swap candies, have a good time, get all sugared up and run around like wild kids for a couple of hours until we all crashed and my step mom had a peaceful afternoon. That happened every day back then.
Back then, I also collected Dinosaurs Attack! cards, also from the same place. I never got them all, and one day I vow to collect them all once and for all. A friend of mine from school not only had collected all of them, but he had multiples of the ones I needed. But he never gave them to me. What a dick.
There was also another store we would go to that was just around the corner from the penny candy store, I think it was called Tom’s back then. Not sure. Anyway, we would go in there with food stamps some times and we would buy Burples (remember those?), Now And Laters (which we called “ny-a-laters”, and cans of macaroni and cheese, which turned out to be the nastiest shit on earth in a can. Still is.
Years later that particular store had turned into some sort of gang base of operations, while the store acted as a front. Police raided it for some reason only to find hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of semi-automatic weaponry in the back in boxes. I think they also found a ton of hard drugs as well. Awesome.
The penny candy store closed and never reopened as anything else. It’s still closed.
Well, this was fun. Maybe I’ll do it again some time. Or not.