*edited to add a postscript*
I got this awesome meme from WIGSF and liked it so much I decided to take it from right under his pretty little Canadian nose. Because I can. I’m awesome like that. That’s what this meme is about. My awesomeness. But I decided to change it up a little. Instead of detailing all the ways I’m awesome (all of which are blindingly obvious, scientifically-proven, and cure cancer, all for three easy payments of $29.99!!), I’ve decided to go on about my awesome childhood and share some old-timey memories with y’all. So hop aboard this double-decker bus, my friends, and join me on this A.W.E.S.O.M.E trip down memory lane!
A is for Angels.
The California Angels, to be exact. A long time ago, when my family still lived in California, and I a wee child of 10, my dad took us all to Anaheim to watch the home team play on the home green. The crowd was loud and boisterous, the sun bright, the hot dogs especially hotdoggy, and the beer especially swilly. I didn’t have any beer of course, but I remember there being a lot of beer around me. I learned “Take me out to the ballgame”, and that the seventh-inning stretch is really boring. I most enjoyed doing the “Wave”. I liked seeing the spectators ululate the stands, and I couldn’t wait for my turn to leap up, flap my arms at the sky, holler wordlessly, and sit back down.
The Angels lost the game, as I recall.
W is for Wasp.
My very first bee-sting was actually a wasp. Fourth grade, at Terra Linda Elementary School in West Jordan, Utah, and I’m playing on the monkey bars, dutifully being active and shit during recess. I’m swinging along, and this girl on the other end starts shouting something at me. Her mouth is flapping and I can’t understand a single thing she’s saying. Its very difficult to lipread when one or both of us is moving. So I let go of the bar and land on the ground. My intent to ask “what?” becomes a wordless shriek of pain as hot fire blossoms on my cheek just below my right eye. In a flash, I understood everything the girl was trying to tell me: “Don’t move! There is a WASP on your face!”
I’ve been stung by other wasps, hornets, and yellowjackets in the same vincity repeatedly over the years. I really hate those things, I tell you what.
E is for Earthquakes.
As I’ve said before, my family lived in California for a while. California, being right over the seam of two major tetonic plates, gets a lot of earthquakes. Many small ones, and maybe one or two noticeable ones, every year. In 1994, Northridge was the epicenter to a fairly large one that woke me up from a sound sleep, and sent my big sis tumbling into my bed. She’s afraid of earthquakes, see; she always manages to find something hard with her head. So when the shaking started early that morning, I woke up and watched the blinds shake in the windows, and just enjoyed the ride. Until a black bulk, vaguely human-shaped, darkened my vision, tumbling from the bunkbed above me, and collapsed, shaking more than the earth below us, upon me. My arm fell asleep whilst I tried to comfort the poor girl through the crisis. Incidentially, she hit her head on the bed frame coming down.
S is for swing
The Pirate Boat Swing at the little rinky-dink amusement park in Odgen, UT. First ever amusement park ride, first incident of ride-induced nausea, and only case of ride-induced projectile vomiting. I believe I was only 6 or 7.
To this day, I still can’t look at one of these rides without my stomach turning over.
O is for Octopus.
Copying WIGSF here as I can’t think of any damn thing that starts with an O. Except octopi. Fascinating creatures, octopi. Did you know that they can finagle their eight-tentacled bodies into any hole or crevice on the planet? No lie!
M is for Mountain
There is a very distinctive peak of the Wasatch Mountains (a range of mountians on the Western side of the Rockies in Utah). To my older, more perverse self, this particular peak looks remarkably like a vagina. (I can’t find a picture of it, so just take my word for it!) When I was six, my family went for a hike up this mountain. It was hot, buggy and muggy. The hike was long. We had a picnic on a large boulder. We made it up as far as the base of the rocky cliffy parts by mid-afternoon. It was at that point my mom said, “oh hell no!” and we turned back down. It was dark when we got back to the bottom, and rattlesnakes were out shaking their tails. My sister, poor creature, screamed when she got a bit to close to one. I think I giggled even then. We went to Article Circle for burgers and fries with fry sauce. Hmm…fry sauce.
E is for…eggs.
Yeah, eggs. For a long time, my diet consisted of eggs, white bread, and mircle whip. Sometimes an orange. Sometimes Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. But mostly it was fried egg sandwiches, with or without the egg.
To this day, egg, miracle whip, and white bread is still my comfort food of choice. I ate a lot of eggs after spliting with my ex.
So there we are, the tour down A.W.E.S.O.M.E memory lane has come to an end. Thanks for visiting!
(Post script: for an encore memory go check out my other blog at Fat Sisters here.)