Tell Me A Kid Story
- Thread starter Dana Jean
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That was me and Rosy. You ruined my chance to get that kiss!!
Yeah. I seem to be a bit of a buzzkill in that department.
Not at all...........
Yes I am. Ask my husband.
I think DJ's been hanging out with Ms Mod for too long.
Well, I won't argue or you'll unleash the Spaghetti Monster on me......
arrrrrrr, he be a slippery kraken! with just a hint of oregano flavor.
Or to keep your secrets close to the vest!
I haven't seemed to have learned that lesson.... I must have a "hard headed" story in my past somewhere!
Okay so let's dance.
Me, kinda shy, really I am, but as a wee snot nosed squirt, I can actually recall the view of the world from behind Mama's leg, and holdin' on to it for dear life I did I did..in my minds eye I favored the left one, think that means anything, or is a left leg just a left leg
?
Now as I got along in years I did have all manner of things that challenged my shyness, most things I for the most part overcame, and mostly due to Mama pushing me.
Things like selling fine line of Christmas cards from the ad in the back of my comic books, newpaper persubscriptions (I thought that a clever ice breaker, though most folks never batted an eye), and candy, all door-to-door.
'Just get out, knock on the door, and ask, can't sell anything if you don't ask, and I sure ain't doing it for you', was pretty much the lesson, and by damned if she wasn't right...I got pretty good at it, always had a little jingle in my pockets and found I could always ask for a paid gig, you know, kid jobs, quite the little capitalist me, oh I was I was, cold hard lil' buckets o' ducats, that would beat shy anyday.
But now see that was doin' bidness my personal people skills however, that was something else entirely, crippling social shy ruled that part of me.
We moved a bit, five places and five different schools by the time I was a freshman, well, seven schools, suppose I gotta count the two I was thrown out of by that time
..hey one I was framed I swear
..no I was, really
...and I ain't no snitch, never was, never will be neither, least not to get my bacon outta the skillet, 'Nah I ain't spillin' and you can't make me, Sister Mary Fartama!..I was such a cute kid, but possibly also lacked some social, hmm, let's go with polish
...poor Mama, just between work work work and more work and me, she had her wee tired hands fulled up.
Anyway (my feets is a'ginnin to twitch a'might, yorns?), speed up to freshman year, a respected Catholic H.S., with a very respected football team, thus verrry kickin' after game dances, with really good bands and kids coming from all over, pretty big dances is what I'm sayin', and for a fairly bright knucklehead, it took me like a light second to figure, at these dances, there was gonna be chicks, mmm mm, babe-a-licious and oh so luscious, sweet smellin' smooove and soooft, chicks...but, but but, but then what do I do?????
I be back, damn if it doesn't look like a customer, gotta restock 'em emotismilies anyway.....
Me, kinda shy, really I am, but as a wee snot nosed squirt, I can actually recall the view of the world from behind Mama's leg, and holdin' on to it for dear life I did I did..in my minds eye I favored the left one, think that means anything, or is a left leg just a left leg
?Now as I got along in years I did have all manner of things that challenged my shyness, most things I for the most part overcame, and mostly due to Mama pushing me.
Things like selling fine line of Christmas cards from the ad in the back of my comic books, newpaper persubscriptions (I thought that a clever ice breaker, though most folks never batted an eye), and candy, all door-to-door.
'Just get out, knock on the door, and ask, can't sell anything if you don't ask, and I sure ain't doing it for you', was pretty much the lesson, and by damned if she wasn't right...I got pretty good at it, always had a little jingle in my pockets and found I could always ask for a paid gig, you know, kid jobs, quite the little capitalist me, oh I was I was, cold hard lil' buckets o' ducats, that would beat shy anyday.
But now see that was doin' bidness my personal people skills however, that was something else entirely, crippling social shy ruled that part of me.
We moved a bit, five places and five different schools by the time I was a freshman, well, seven schools, suppose I gotta count the two I was thrown out of by that time
..hey one I was framed I swear..no I was, really...and I ain't no snitch, never was, never will be neither, least not to get my bacon outta the skillet, 'Nah I ain't spillin' and you can't make me, Sister Mary Fartama!..I was such a cute kid, but possibly also lacked some social, hmm, let's go with polish...poor Mama, just between work work work and more work and me, she had her wee tired hands fulled up.Anyway (my feets is a'ginnin to twitch a'might, yorns?), speed up to freshman year, a respected Catholic H.S., with a very respected football team, thus verrry kickin' after game dances, with really good bands and kids coming from all over, pretty big dances is what I'm sayin', and for a fairly bright knucklehead, it took me like a light second to figure, at these dances, there was gonna be chicks, mmm mm, babe-a-licious and oh so luscious, sweet smellin' smooove and soooft, chicks...but, but but, but then what do I do
?????I be back, damn if it doesn't look like a customer, gotta restock 'em emotismilies anyway.....
cliffhanger.Okay so let's dance.
Me, kinda shy, really I am, but as a wee snot nosed squirt, I can actually recall the view of the world from behind Mama's leg, and holdin' on to it for dear life I did I did..in my minds eye I favored the left one, think that means anything, or is a left leg just a left leg
Now as I got along in years I did have all manner of things that challenged my shyness, most things I for the most part overcame, and mostly due to Mama pushing me.
Things like selling fine line of Christmas cards from the ad in the back of my comic books, newpaper persubscriptions (I thought that a clever ice breaker, though most folks never batted an eye), and candy, all door-to-door.
'Just get out, knock on the door, and ask, can't sell anything if you don't ask, and I sure ain't doing it for you', was pretty much the lesson, and by damned if she wasn't right...I got pretty good at it, always had a little jingle in my pockets and found I could always ask for a paid gig, you know, kid jobs, quite the little capitalist me, oh I was I was, cold hard lil' buckets o' ducats, that would beat shy anyday.
But now see that was doin' bidness my personal people skills however, that was something else entirely, crippling social shy ruled that part of me.
We moved a bit, five places and five different schools by the time I was a freshman, well, seven schools, suppose I gotta count the two I was thrown out of by that time
Anyway (my feets is a'ginnin to twitch a'might, yorns?), speed up to freshman year, a respected Catholic H.S., with a very respected football team, thus verrry kickin' after game dances, with really good bands and kids coming from all over, pretty big dances is what I'm sayin', and for a fairly bright knucklehead, it took me like a light second to figure, at these dances, there was gonna be chicks, mmm mm, babe-a-licious and oh so luscious, sweet smellin' smooove and soooft, chicks...but, but but, but then what do I do
I be back, damn if it doesn't look like a customer, gotta restock 'em emotismilies anyway.....
Trip to Stone Mountain
My neighborhood friend and I one day wondered what to do. Back then Stone Mountain (Stone Mountain - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia) was visible from my house (the trees are in the way now), so seeing it I suggested we walk there. Back then we didn't have Google, or any sense, so we didn't bother finding out how far away Stone Mountain is from my house (24.1 miles), and so we set off straight for the giant granite boob.
We did well despite via dead reckoning and no longer being able to see the mountain, until we reached property protected by barbed wire and a stream. By then we figured we were halfway there.
Reality is rude, sometimes especially toward children. Ka is weird sometimes - when we got home that evening my friend got in more trouble than I did.
That's a long ways for kids!
But we made it halfway!!!
Was at the beach one summer afternoon in my SwiftPup days. My friends and I saw a couple boats cruising back and forth about 100 yards or so off the beach. We decided to swim out and see what was going on. We got within shouting distance and we asked the harbormaster what was up. He said "Someone reported seeing a shark." SwiftPup and friends turn and beat a hasty retreat back to the beach.......
Heard on the news later that night that there were a couple of basking sharks that had been spotted off that beach. So we were weren't in any real danger but I had visions of being lunch for Mr. Whitey as I was making my mad dash back to land
Heard on the news later that night that there were a couple of basking sharks that had been spotted off that beach. So we were weren't in any real danger but I had visions of being lunch for Mr. Whitey as I was making my mad dash back to land
Was at the beach one summer afternoon in my SwiftPup days. My friends and I saw a couple boats cruising back and forth about 100 yards or so off the beach. We decided to swim out and see what was going on. We got within shouting distance and we asked the harbormaster what was up. He said "Someone reported seeing a shark." SwiftPup and friends turn and beat a hasty retreat back to the beach.......
Heard on the news later that night that there were a couple of basking sharks that had been spotted off that beach. So we were weren't in any real danger but I had visions of being lunch for Mr. Whitey as I was making my mad dash back to land
Shark: "Fred! Look! Lunch!
This makes me want to kill people.
When I was fifteen my family lived in the guest bedroom of my grandfather's house in Ft. Myers, Florida. It was a small stucco house with jalousie windows and painted a green raisin color; the front door and shutters were a dark green avocado. My grandfather, called Buddy 'K', was a painter and changed the house color and trim as regularly as Cape Canaveral launched space shuttles. He was an immodest man, squat as a boxer, and when the mood struck him he'd have a paint roller in one hand and a beer in the other. Wearing only Wrangler blue jeans, bantam legs climbing an aluminum ladder, he'd wail along with Hank Williams from his pink splattered transistor radio. Most of the time, when he finished, the house would blend in with the other saltwater taffy homes in the neighborhood and he'd celebrate by grilling steaks on the carport.
My grandfather loved something, though, more than beer and country music: parrots. He spent most of his time in the Florida room with his raucous African Grey parrot and parakeets. This room, which had a wall of jalousie windows, looked like a 1960s yacht-den of pink, white and gold (replete with bar and stereo) where Cary Grant might feel right at home. Brass and wooden bird cages sat on one end of the bar and bottles of rum and vodka cluttered the other. At Christmas time he managed to make room for a white tree with all blue lights and ornaments. He'd dress in a red turtleneck, white polyester pants and stake Miller bottles into an ice chest next to a platter of cocktail shrimp. As guests arrived the long room filled with cigarette smoke and perfume, the 45s of Elvis and Perry Como played, and Buddy's parrot would perch on his finger as he did bawdy tricks. Booming laughter.
Later, grabbing me around the neck with the crook of his elbow he grins and, over the noise, he says, "Whadda ya think of me painting this room, Elmer?"
I smile and shrug.
"What color do parakeets like, anyway?" he asks.
My grandfather loved something, though, more than beer and country music: parrots. He spent most of his time in the Florida room with his raucous African Grey parrot and parakeets. This room, which had a wall of jalousie windows, looked like a 1960s yacht-den of pink, white and gold (replete with bar and stereo) where Cary Grant might feel right at home. Brass and wooden bird cages sat on one end of the bar and bottles of rum and vodka cluttered the other. At Christmas time he managed to make room for a white tree with all blue lights and ornaments. He'd dress in a red turtleneck, white polyester pants and stake Miller bottles into an ice chest next to a platter of cocktail shrimp. As guests arrived the long room filled with cigarette smoke and perfume, the 45s of Elvis and Perry Como played, and Buddy's parrot would perch on his finger as he did bawdy tricks. Booming laughter.
Later, grabbing me around the neck with the crook of his elbow he grins and, over the noise, he says, "Whadda ya think of me painting this room, Elmer?"
I smile and shrug.
"What color do parakeets like, anyway?" he asks.
Your grandfather and I have the love of painting in common. I change the color of my house constantly. Especially the trim. I love to paint rooms, although it's getting harder to do.
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