Nostalgia
I usually visit my parents about twice a year; Thanksgiving and Christmas. When people hear this their first question is, "Where do your parents live?" Th general response when I tell them they live 45 minutes north of my apartment via train is, "You're a terrible son." Well lately I've had the urge to fish, mountain bike, and hangout in a place where nothing is made from concrete. So as you may have guessed already, I am writing this entry from my parents house.

Now every so often when I'm here I like to go through all of the drawers filled with all of the old crap my mother for some reason decided were worthy of saving. This includes pictures for the most part, but also some more interesting things like report cards, old stories, old drawings, and certificates I obtained over the years. Now I don't know about you, but I remember myself being awesome at pretty much everything when I was a kid and I'm sorry to say that this trip has made me question some of that awesomeness. Not all, but some.

Earlier today my father started a conversation with, "Who was that girl you gave your sandwich to?" Now had this not been my father who asked such a retarded question my normal witless response probably would have been something like, "I don't know, I give a lot of girls my 'sandwhich'", followed by a good five minute chuckle. But my father is the last person to find that funny so I merely responded, "I have no clue who you're talking about". This of course prompted him to tell me.

"One day in elementary school this girl's mother had forgotten to give her her lunch for the day and when she got there to give it to her she found the two of you sharing your sandwich for lunch. You had offered her half of your sandwich to eat." Now you're probably thinking the same thing I was when I heard this, "Wow! What an awesome little kid! So kind, so selfless, so generous." Well later in the conversation I found out who the little girl was who ate the other half of my sandwich. It was the hottest most popular girl in the school. Obviously my motives weren't so selfless after all.

Growing up most little boys wanted to be something cool like a firefighter or an astronaut or some shit, but not me. I wanted to be writer. Actually, I didn't want to be a writer, I knew I was going to be a writer. I guess in some demented way that came true, but the thing about it is, growing up I was always told what a good writer I was. And I believed this. Well tonight I happened upon some of my old stories and I must admit it's a good thing I have no intention on writing as a means of income because I fucking blew as a writer. Just read some of the absolute crap I produced.

A Cat Book
by Chris (6 yrs old)
Dedication
for my dad

Page 1
I like my cat! I do to!
(Incredibly crappy drawing of a cat.)

Page 2
My cat likes books.
(Extremely shitty drawing of a cat and a book. The cat only has three legs but still somehow manages to more accurately depict a cat than the book does a book.)

Page 3
I love my cat.
(Drawing of a rabid cat. This one is fairly accurate.)

Page 4
GO!
(I guess I got bored.)

Page 5
GO!
(They should have held me back a few years.)

Page 6
My cat can go!
(Drawing of a house and a cloud. Why? I don't fucking know.)

Page 7
My mom and dad mom loves my cat.
(Up until this point my saving grace was grammar and syntax. Now this story has lost all credibility and right when it was really starting to setup the plot line.)

Page 8
My cat!
(Another rabid drawing of a cat.)

Page 9
My cat can read.
(Dear God I hope she didn't read this piece of shit story I wrote about her.)

Page 10
My cat likes to read.
(Highly unlikely.)

Page 11
My cat likes my sister.
(Even less likely.)

Page 12
My cat likes fishing.
(I can't even begin to tell you how terrible my drawing was here. It literally looks like a horse made from rectangles.)

Pages 13 - 18 are all the things my cat likes. The list ranged from "everybody" to "numbers". Then the following three pages I do the whole "GO!" thing again, I think to build up the triumphant ending of, "My cat loves Chris." So yeah, my writing was pure crap. I won't even begin to describe to you my story titled "A Horse Book". This whole experience is starting to make me question my current awesomeness. Am I really not as awesome as I think I am? Is this blog just as bad as my cat and horse stories? Was I the "special" kid growing up but never realized it because the "special" kid never realizes he/she is "special"? Crap.

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9/1/2008 12:31:33 AM
Condom Disuse and Alcohol Abuse
So it's been a long time since my last post and I do sincerely apologize to you for that. Summers in New York City tend to be full of drunken debauchery and as I look back on this summer I imagine it hasn't been any different. I only imagine this because I can't actually remember most of it, which apparently is an indication that I can at times be a "binge drinker". But really what is a "binge drinker"? Is it someone who likes to go out on weekends with his/her best friends, have some fun, and drink twenty to thirty of his/her favorite brews until he/she throws up on the back of someone's pant leg at bar and then passes out? Well if that's a "binge drinker" then heck yes, I'm a fucking binge drinker.

A couple weeks ago I had my first physical in God knows how many years. Actually I doubt God knows either because I'd hate to think he/she is up there keeping track of that sort of stuff. Now all my life I've never had a doctor, and by that I mean that every time I went to see a doctor it was always a different doctor. I think it had something to do with insurance changes or at least something along those lines, but it was something that I became accustomed to and is probably what has lead me to being so comfortable with displaying my naked wonderments to people I've just met. Yeah, wonderments.

So this time around I scheduled an appointment with a doctor I've seen before, and actually hated, but I'm too lazy to login to my insurances website and search for another doctor within three blocks of my apartment. Plus the website requires I use Internet Explorer to view it, and I'm sorry, but Internet Explorer is the biggest piece of shit around. Anyone who uses Internet Explorer is an asshole and doesn't deserve to browse the Internet. I am sorry I even made this site compatible with Internet Explorer because I don't want any of those kinds even looking at my site let alone sharing a water fountain with me. Wait . . . what? Never mind that, let's get back to the doctor.

Well I had to change my appointment at the last minute and because of this I had to see a different doctor; one that I have never met before. As I sat in the little doctor's room on top of the bed thingy with the paper rolled over it I thought about the things you think about when you're waiting for a new doctor. Mainly I was wondering how thorough he was going to be. Well when the door opened and the doctor walked in I got a little surprise. My "he" was actually a not so unattractive young "she". Jackpot! All I could hope for now was that she was going to be as thorough as possible.

She was an interesting girl to say the least. She was very perky and seemed a little awkward. She kept saying things like, "My cat throws up a lot" and then following it up with things like, "But I probably shouldn't tell you this" or "That was really weird for me to tell you" while I awkwardly laughed and smiled throughout the exam, most of which involved her lecturing me about "binge drinking" and using condoms. I'm sorry, I just put condoms in the same category as books and pens. You know, things you buy but never use. Anyway, she actually said to me, "You never know, one of those skanks you bring home from the bar one night could have acute HIV". She didn't find my, "Well acute HIV is better than a ugly HIV. Am I right? Am I right?" joke all that funny of a response, so I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the exam and let her reprimand me.

So all of this was pretty entertaining until towards the end of my visit when she stood at the count, very awkwardly paused, and then even more awkwardly, said, "Ummm . . . so I am going to have to check you for a hernia. I know, I'm probably the most thorough doctor you've ever had right?" Bingo! The moment I had been waiting for. There was definitely something kind of sexy to the way she turned to me, looked down, and then waved her finger to indicate I should drop my pants and underwear. Actually, it reminded me a lot of those skanks from the bar I always take home. The hernia check was much longer than I am normally used to and at a much closer range. I really felt like I was getting my $15 co-pay's worth. I think for the first time in my life I will start seeing the same doctor on a regular basis.

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8/28/2008 12:44:51 PM