Oh my dear, I've been away from you too long. When I get home tonight, I will wrap my arms lovingly around your petite hourglass figure, and softly touch my lips to your rim. I will drink heavily from you, your sweet nectar softly touching my tongue. I will love you tenderly until I have drained you completely, and I apologize, but I will only throw you away in the end to replace you with a fresher, fuller version of you. A version that can supply me with all I need in a relationship. It's a sad, cold truth, but alas, it is indeed the truth. You knew how this would end the moment you beckoned me from the convenience store cooler.
You're the only one who can keep me up late at night with your high caffeine content. The only one who can conjure up random thoughts in my brain like "I wonder how old Kevin Bacon was in Flashdance? And while I wiki him, I may as well look up what year Tremors was released. I love campy horror movies. OHMYGOD! It was released on VHS! I should get a VCR so I can play that shit! ...I wonder if they ever made a laserdisc version of that because even though nobody has a laserdisc player anymore, it would still be cool to find Tremors on laserdisc because who the hell has a that movie on laserdisc and wouldn't it be even cooler if I could find an actual laserdisc player because those things are rare, but they aren't really worth anything and I could get one really cheap I imagine and WOW the word 'laserdisc' isn't even recognized as a word by Firefox and I wonder what it would be like to be the guy who invented laserdisc in the first place because his only claim to fame is inventing technology that never caught on and that nobody likes because it's like a DVD, but it's FUCKING HUGE like a record and OHMYGOD I should get a record player because there seems to be a lot of albums being released on vinyl lately and I think it would be cool because none of my friends have a record player and I'd be like the only one."
Even now as I place you on my coffee table, I still want to reach out and touch you again. Our tryst will come to an end soon, but I will always remember you for what you gave me. That sweet, sweet caffeine high. But soon when you're empty and gone, I will feel the crash coming on, and I will only collapse onto the couch, longing for the moment when I can touch you again, and see your sweet red label once more.
I love you, Coke. I always will.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Old Friends and Stale Tobacco
Sometimes when I'm alone, my mind races at a million miles an hour.
Sometimes, I think about things I haven't thought about in years.
Sometimes, I get lumps in my throat so large and for so long it feels like I might choke.
Sometimes, I sit awake all night and smoke cigarettes until the nicotine stings my tongue and burns my throat, and then I smoke some more until the ashtray on the porch overflows.
Occasionally, I remember what it was like a few years ago, when it felt like I had the world in the palm of my hand.
And every once in awhile, I wonder how it all went so wrong so quickly.
Those three apartment buildings were our own little world. They were our salvation from everything that was wrong with our lives. Our own little quiet community in the heart of a busy city that never seemed to stop moving. There were a couple hundred of us, I guess. We all got along with each other fairly well, with the exception of one or two people. I didn't know it then, but what was to come would be the best two years of my life.
It wasn't long before we banded together into our own tightly-knit groups. Mine was comprised of about 4 other people, and they were the best friends anyone could ask for. There were two girls in particular who felt like sisters to me.
Kari had a small studio apartment to herself in the basement of my building. She was a tall, pretty Italian girl with a knack for fashion and a sarcastic attitude. I knew we'd be friends after spending 5 minutes with her. It seemed like I spent every night at her place, talking with her until we'd run out of things to say, then we'd share some food (and maybe a little alcohol), and I'd fall asleep on her couch. Sometimes, after we smoked a little weed, we'd search our apartments together for loose change, and when we came up with a few bucks, we'd walk the long journey to the twenty-four hour 7-11 and buy junk food. We had our fights like everyone does, but it was never long before we made up.
She was terribly afraid of bugs. I remember her calling me in the middle of the night to come squish whatever happened to be crawling on the floor. I remember the smile she got on her face when she called me her protector.
My favorite night with Kari, we got drunk and cleaned her apartment. We listened to Hello Goodbye on the stereo, and when the CD was over, we listened to The Postal Service. We drank some more, and then we cleaned again. When it was all over, she changed into her yellow Spongebob shirt and green pajama pants, and went to bed. I made fun of her for the Spongebob sock she wore on her hand. Then she told me it was because she had a thumb sucking problem when she slept, and I felt like an asshole. But she forgave me for it, like always.
She'd make me coordinate all her outfits for her. When I finally asked why she needed me to, she told me it was because I had to approve of everything she did, or she wouldn't do it. It was one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me.
Kari moved to a different apartment complex after the first year I was there, and after that, I didn't really know what to do with myself. We still saw each other and did things together, but not nearly as often. There was a huge empty space in my days, and I didn't know how to fill it. My best friend was all but gone, and I missed her before she even really left. But I found another friend shortly afterward, and it was entirely accidental.
Samantha was one of those girls who is so beautiful it makes you nervous just being in her general vicinity. The kind of girl who speaks to you, and makes you trip over your own words trying to find a response. I had never met anyone like her, and I doubt I ever will.
My girlfriend had just revealed that she had cheated on me, and I was having a really rough couple of days. The night after her confession, I was hanging out with a few of my other friends, and a new neighbor, a kid named Cody. Sam was there. After everyone had left, I sat down in Cody's recliner, and he and Sam were on the couch. I don't remember how we got on the topic of my girlfriend, but once I started talking, I didn't shut up. I must have talked for hours. I thought they'd get fed up with me, but they just kept listening. When it was all said and done, I felt a lot better about myself. It was then that Sam said she was there for me if I ever needed anything.
We spent a lot of time together after that. We'd smoke weed sometimes. We'd find someone who was of age, and we'd have a few beers. We watched a lot of movies together. She'd make me listen to her music, and I'd make fun of her for it. Then, she'd listen to my music, and make fun of me. Every night, she'd ask me to rub her feet. Sometimes it annoyed me, but I'd always give in when she showed me the puppy-dog eyes and the little pout on her face.
We'd stay up all night, sit on the picnic tables in the courtyard and share cigarettes. We'd lose track of time together. She was always there when I was having a bad night. Some nights were harder than others for me, and no matter how many times I called her, she always tried to help me the best she could. I'll always love her for that. I expected her to get tired of me and just refuse to help anymore, but she never did.
The day I had to leave was the worst day of my life. I knew I'd be leaving my best friends behind, and that I'd be going back to a life I hated. Those apartments were my refuge from all that was wrong in my world, and once I left them, I knew that all my old problems would come back.
When I told Sam that I was leaving, I saw tears well up in her eyes. Just seeing that made all the pent up emotions in me come out. I tried my hardest to not cry, knowing that if I did, we'd both collapse into a puddle of tears. When the truck pulled up, I felt lower than shit. The ride felt longer than it had ever been before.
I made repeated attempts to go back, but they never worked out. I'd go back now, but it's been too long. I fear that it's changed too much. They aren't the same people they were then, and I'm not the same person I was, either.
If we met again, I'd grab a couple six packs from the tavern up the street. We'd drink at Sam's place. We'd lay on a patch of grass in the park and count the stars until we reached numbers higher than we've ever counted before. We'd talk until our mouths were so worn out they'd refuse to speak. We'd make one last run to 7-11 and buy more junk food than we ever have before, and finally pay back that 25 cents we owe to the hairy, pimple-covered cashier. I'd sleep on one of your couches like the old days, and when we woke up, I'd buy you both breakfast from anywhere you wanted.
Kari, I'd smash all the bugs in the world for you. I'd buy you every Spongebob toy, decoration, and clothing item there was. I'd tell you every shitty joke I've ever heard. I'd clean your entire apartment AND furnish the booze. I'd organize your shoes and coordinate every outfit you'd wear for the rest of your life.
Sam, I'd rub your feet until my fingers ached. I'd buy you every carton of Pall Mall menthols I could find. I'd buy you enough beer to last you for the rest of your twenties. Then, we'd smoke some weed and talk like old times. I'd listen to your music, and I wouldn't even make fun of it.
I don't know if you'll ever read this, but you two were my entire life for two years. I still love you like you were my family. I wish things could've been different, but they aren't. If I could go back to that time, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have left. Things would still be the same as they were before. Nothing's the same without you two.
I miss you more than words could ever describe. I'm sorry things had to be the way they are. I'd give everything I had to change it.
Sometimes, I think about things I haven't thought about in years.
Sometimes, I get lumps in my throat so large and for so long it feels like I might choke.
Sometimes, I sit awake all night and smoke cigarettes until the nicotine stings my tongue and burns my throat, and then I smoke some more until the ashtray on the porch overflows.
Occasionally, I remember what it was like a few years ago, when it felt like I had the world in the palm of my hand.
And every once in awhile, I wonder how it all went so wrong so quickly.
Those three apartment buildings were our own little world. They were our salvation from everything that was wrong with our lives. Our own little quiet community in the heart of a busy city that never seemed to stop moving. There were a couple hundred of us, I guess. We all got along with each other fairly well, with the exception of one or two people. I didn't know it then, but what was to come would be the best two years of my life.
It wasn't long before we banded together into our own tightly-knit groups. Mine was comprised of about 4 other people, and they were the best friends anyone could ask for. There were two girls in particular who felt like sisters to me.
Kari had a small studio apartment to herself in the basement of my building. She was a tall, pretty Italian girl with a knack for fashion and a sarcastic attitude. I knew we'd be friends after spending 5 minutes with her. It seemed like I spent every night at her place, talking with her until we'd run out of things to say, then we'd share some food (and maybe a little alcohol), and I'd fall asleep on her couch. Sometimes, after we smoked a little weed, we'd search our apartments together for loose change, and when we came up with a few bucks, we'd walk the long journey to the twenty-four hour 7-11 and buy junk food. We had our fights like everyone does, but it was never long before we made up.
She was terribly afraid of bugs. I remember her calling me in the middle of the night to come squish whatever happened to be crawling on the floor. I remember the smile she got on her face when she called me her protector.
My favorite night with Kari, we got drunk and cleaned her apartment. We listened to Hello Goodbye on the stereo, and when the CD was over, we listened to The Postal Service. We drank some more, and then we cleaned again. When it was all over, she changed into her yellow Spongebob shirt and green pajama pants, and went to bed. I made fun of her for the Spongebob sock she wore on her hand. Then she told me it was because she had a thumb sucking problem when she slept, and I felt like an asshole. But she forgave me for it, like always.
She'd make me coordinate all her outfits for her. When I finally asked why she needed me to, she told me it was because I had to approve of everything she did, or she wouldn't do it. It was one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me.
Kari moved to a different apartment complex after the first year I was there, and after that, I didn't really know what to do with myself. We still saw each other and did things together, but not nearly as often. There was a huge empty space in my days, and I didn't know how to fill it. My best friend was all but gone, and I missed her before she even really left. But I found another friend shortly afterward, and it was entirely accidental.
Samantha was one of those girls who is so beautiful it makes you nervous just being in her general vicinity. The kind of girl who speaks to you, and makes you trip over your own words trying to find a response. I had never met anyone like her, and I doubt I ever will.
My girlfriend had just revealed that she had cheated on me, and I was having a really rough couple of days. The night after her confession, I was hanging out with a few of my other friends, and a new neighbor, a kid named Cody. Sam was there. After everyone had left, I sat down in Cody's recliner, and he and Sam were on the couch. I don't remember how we got on the topic of my girlfriend, but once I started talking, I didn't shut up. I must have talked for hours. I thought they'd get fed up with me, but they just kept listening. When it was all said and done, I felt a lot better about myself. It was then that Sam said she was there for me if I ever needed anything.
We spent a lot of time together after that. We'd smoke weed sometimes. We'd find someone who was of age, and we'd have a few beers. We watched a lot of movies together. She'd make me listen to her music, and I'd make fun of her for it. Then, she'd listen to my music, and make fun of me. Every night, she'd ask me to rub her feet. Sometimes it annoyed me, but I'd always give in when she showed me the puppy-dog eyes and the little pout on her face.
We'd stay up all night, sit on the picnic tables in the courtyard and share cigarettes. We'd lose track of time together. She was always there when I was having a bad night. Some nights were harder than others for me, and no matter how many times I called her, she always tried to help me the best she could. I'll always love her for that. I expected her to get tired of me and just refuse to help anymore, but she never did.
The day I had to leave was the worst day of my life. I knew I'd be leaving my best friends behind, and that I'd be going back to a life I hated. Those apartments were my refuge from all that was wrong in my world, and once I left them, I knew that all my old problems would come back.
When I told Sam that I was leaving, I saw tears well up in her eyes. Just seeing that made all the pent up emotions in me come out. I tried my hardest to not cry, knowing that if I did, we'd both collapse into a puddle of tears. When the truck pulled up, I felt lower than shit. The ride felt longer than it had ever been before.
I made repeated attempts to go back, but they never worked out. I'd go back now, but it's been too long. I fear that it's changed too much. They aren't the same people they were then, and I'm not the same person I was, either.
If we met again, I'd grab a couple six packs from the tavern up the street. We'd drink at Sam's place. We'd lay on a patch of grass in the park and count the stars until we reached numbers higher than we've ever counted before. We'd talk until our mouths were so worn out they'd refuse to speak. We'd make one last run to 7-11 and buy more junk food than we ever have before, and finally pay back that 25 cents we owe to the hairy, pimple-covered cashier. I'd sleep on one of your couches like the old days, and when we woke up, I'd buy you both breakfast from anywhere you wanted.
Kari, I'd smash all the bugs in the world for you. I'd buy you every Spongebob toy, decoration, and clothing item there was. I'd tell you every shitty joke I've ever heard. I'd clean your entire apartment AND furnish the booze. I'd organize your shoes and coordinate every outfit you'd wear for the rest of your life.
Sam, I'd rub your feet until my fingers ached. I'd buy you every carton of Pall Mall menthols I could find. I'd buy you enough beer to last you for the rest of your twenties. Then, we'd smoke some weed and talk like old times. I'd listen to your music, and I wouldn't even make fun of it.
I don't know if you'll ever read this, but you two were my entire life for two years. I still love you like you were my family. I wish things could've been different, but they aren't. If I could go back to that time, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have left. Things would still be the same as they were before. Nothing's the same without you two.
I miss you more than words could ever describe. I'm sorry things had to be the way they are. I'd give everything I had to change it.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Memorial Day weekend has sucked ass so far.
I fell down the basement steps on Friday. I sprained my ankle. I can barely walk on it. What really pisses me off, though... The reason I was walking up the steps was because I cut my leg. Then I had a cut on one leg AND a sprained ankle on the other.
Then, Saturday morning, I cut the leg with the sprained ankle. On Saturday afternoon, my cat decided to scratch the living hell out of my right arm. Saturday night, I burnt myself on a rock near the campfire. I cut my neck really bad shaving this morning.
Right now, I've got band-aids covering like 56.248769% of my body, PLUS an Ace bandage. I wonder what injuries tomorrow will have in store for me? The way I'm going right now, it'll probably be something involving heavy bleeding, and possibly a tourniquet.
This is the least fun Memorial Day weekend I've ever had.
Then, Saturday morning, I cut the leg with the sprained ankle. On Saturday afternoon, my cat decided to scratch the living hell out of my right arm. Saturday night, I burnt myself on a rock near the campfire. I cut my neck really bad shaving this morning.
Right now, I've got band-aids covering like 56.248769% of my body, PLUS an Ace bandage. I wonder what injuries tomorrow will have in store for me? The way I'm going right now, it'll probably be something involving heavy bleeding, and possibly a tourniquet.
This is the least fun Memorial Day weekend I've ever had.
Friday, May 14, 2010
The Twilight Movies Suck.
I was gonna write a long rant about why the "Twilight" movies suck, but it's been done by everyone and their mothers (with the exception of those damn "Twilight Moms". While I'm on the subject, if it was a bunch of 40 year-old MEN screaming about how much they wanted to bone a 17 year-old GIRL, somebody would call the damn cops. And women bitch about double standards. Tsk, Tsk, ladies!), so I changed my mind, and I'm not going to do it. Other, funnier people have already said it better than I can.
God could've picked any other orifice, and any other sound for it to make. If you do not laugh at farts, You defy the Creator himself!
It seems that I have eaten something that doesn't agree with me. I've farted more in the last 3 hours I've been awake than I did in the entire year of 2009. I didn't go to work today, because the goddamn rain won't let up. There are things I need to do today, but I can't go out in public. It seems like every 45 seconds, my stomach makes a brief noise, and then "BRRRRRIIIIIP!", it comes out. They smell like eggs mixed with like, green peas. I have no idea why. I haven't eaten either of them in weeks.
I let a couple loose this morning, mom smelled them, and she immediately fled the room in horror. I would've, too... but there was no way I could escape the smell coming from my own body.
Mom told me, "Maybe you just have to poop."
When I said I didn't, she countered with "Give it a few minutes, you'll have to."
"MOM! I don't have to poop!"
"Yes you do. I know how your body works. Don't forget, Buster... You're my son, and I've had to deal with you doing this EXACT same thing for 22 years." I love the extensive conversations my mother and I have about my bowels. Charming, isn't it?
Three hours later, and I still haven't pooped. I guess she doesn't know as much as she thinks she does, DOES SHE!?
Today, I've experienced every kind of ass noise I can think of. I've fired off the following:
The Rimshot- Two short bursts followed by one higher pitched, short poot.
The Cliffhanger- Where it's still going strong, but quits abruptly and unexpectedly.
The Anticipation- When it goes for a second, then stops for a few seconds, then picks up where it leaves off.
The Aftershock- When there's one loud, long one, followed by a few short, quieter ones.
The Frog- A short slow, low-pitched ribbit sound.
The Fly- A long, high pitched squeak noise, like the sound the use in old cartoons when they show small insects flying.
And finally:
The Triplet- Three consecutive farts in short intervals, of identical length and pitch.
I hope you've had fun discussing the workings of my internal organs with me. Now, go fart in a public place. When the people standing close to you give you "The Look", simply say,
"What the fuck do you want me to do? Methane is flammable. If I hold it in I might spontaneously combust. You don't want that, do you? Guy standing right next to you, bursting into flames? I think not, sir."
I let a couple loose this morning, mom smelled them, and she immediately fled the room in horror. I would've, too... but there was no way I could escape the smell coming from my own body.
Mom told me, "Maybe you just have to poop."
When I said I didn't, she countered with "Give it a few minutes, you'll have to."
"MOM! I don't have to poop!"
"Yes you do. I know how your body works. Don't forget, Buster... You're my son, and I've had to deal with you doing this EXACT same thing for 22 years." I love the extensive conversations my mother and I have about my bowels. Charming, isn't it?
Three hours later, and I still haven't pooped. I guess she doesn't know as much as she thinks she does, DOES SHE!?
Today, I've experienced every kind of ass noise I can think of. I've fired off the following:
The Rimshot- Two short bursts followed by one higher pitched, short poot.
The Cliffhanger- Where it's still going strong, but quits abruptly and unexpectedly.
The Anticipation- When it goes for a second, then stops for a few seconds, then picks up where it leaves off.
The Aftershock- When there's one loud, long one, followed by a few short, quieter ones.
The Frog- A short slow, low-pitched ribbit sound.
The Fly- A long, high pitched squeak noise, like the sound the use in old cartoons when they show small insects flying.
And finally:
The Triplet- Three consecutive farts in short intervals, of identical length and pitch.
I hope you've had fun discussing the workings of my internal organs with me. Now, go fart in a public place. When the people standing close to you give you "The Look", simply say,
"What the fuck do you want me to do? Methane is flammable. If I hold it in I might spontaneously combust. You don't want that, do you? Guy standing right next to you, bursting into flames? I think not, sir."
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Adventures in the land of B.O.
I have a relative, who will remain nameless, who smells like a combination of human feces and wet dog. I have no idea why. It got me to thinking... There are a lot of people who are just downright DIRTY.
Even when I went to college, and lived in the dorms there were a few people in particular who stunk like MAD. I could understand if they were broke, and couldn't afford a high water bill, BUT THE WATER WAS FREE. They could've taken showers 24 hours a goddamn day, and they wouldn't have to pay a fucking penny of it.
I'm aware that most people can't smell their own body odor... but when your hair is so greasy it's matted to your head, it's time to take a shower. When everyone within a ten-foot radius of you makes the "OH MY GOD, WHAT'S THAT SMELL!?" face, it's time to take a shower. When there is ketchup on your face from hot-dogs on Friday, and it's currently Thursday, it's time to take a shower.
And while I'm on the subject, why don't some people EVER seem to brush their teeth? I've witnessed a person get a piece of apple stuck in their front teeth, and it stayed there for DAYS. I swear to god it even turned green. What the fuck. How hard is it to brush your teeth. It takes like a minute and a half if you take your time.
To anyone reading this: If you can't remember the last time you took a shower, take a shower. If you can't remember the last time you brushed your teeth, PLEASE brush your teeth. And if you haven't showered recently, do us all a favor and use some goddamned deodorant. You probably smell funny.
Even when I went to college, and lived in the dorms there were a few people in particular who stunk like MAD. I could understand if they were broke, and couldn't afford a high water bill, BUT THE WATER WAS FREE. They could've taken showers 24 hours a goddamn day, and they wouldn't have to pay a fucking penny of it.
I'm aware that most people can't smell their own body odor... but when your hair is so greasy it's matted to your head, it's time to take a shower. When everyone within a ten-foot radius of you makes the "OH MY GOD, WHAT'S THAT SMELL!?" face, it's time to take a shower. When there is ketchup on your face from hot-dogs on Friday, and it's currently Thursday, it's time to take a shower.
And while I'm on the subject, why don't some people EVER seem to brush their teeth? I've witnessed a person get a piece of apple stuck in their front teeth, and it stayed there for DAYS. I swear to god it even turned green. What the fuck. How hard is it to brush your teeth. It takes like a minute and a half if you take your time.
To anyone reading this: If you can't remember the last time you took a shower, take a shower. If you can't remember the last time you brushed your teeth, PLEASE brush your teeth. And if you haven't showered recently, do us all a favor and use some goddamned deodorant. You probably smell funny.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Things that will always be awkward around your parents
1.) Sex scenes in movies. I was 19 years old when I watched a sex scene with my dad. It was the unrated version of The 40 Year-Old Virgin, and I didn't know it was coming. I wasn't really paying attention to the movie, when all of a sudden, there she was. A woman had completely disrobed in the movie. Then, the gratuitous sex began. I had tried endlessly for my entire life to avoid this EXACT situation.
My dad looked over at me, and smiled. I don't know if he was excited about the breasts being displayed so prominently on the 36" TV, or if he saw the look of utter horror on my face. I don't think I even spoke to my dad for the rest of the night.
I'm almost 23 years old now, and I still avoid watching sex scenes with my parents. I do anything that's necessary. If it came down to it, I'd probably burn out my eyes if I had to.
2.) Knowing your parents are having sex. It's happened to everyone. Mom and dad go into their room in the middle of the day, and don't come out again. Or you wake up in the middle of the night, and hear strange noises. And no matter how old you get, you still react the same way, no matter what.
"EEEWWWW!!! OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S DISGUSTING!!! EW EW EW EW EW!!!!" Or something along those lines. It shatters your innocence, leaving you a shell of your former self. There is nothing that can undo what has been done. Maybe you deal with it differently than I do. I usually just sit in a dark corner, rock back and forth, and tell myself that everything's going to be ok. But nothing will be ok, because I know that my parents were having sex.
3.) Swearing for the first time. I was 10 years old when I first swore in front of my parents. I said "Ass". My mother's jaw dropped open. She stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to catch my mistake. When I realized what I had said, I apologized profusely. But, unfortunately for me, I found out what a bar of Dove soap tastes like. Yuck. Even well into my late teens, I was reluctant to swear around my parents.
4.) The "Birds and Bees" conversation. My dad and I were driving home from fishing when I was 13 (I guess he decided it was better to wait until I had already found out everything he was going to tell me from my friends). And started in.
"Buster, when two people love each other very much, they take off their clothes, and they sort of hug."
All I could say was "Uhh... Yeah."
I endured the next half an hour of endless euphemisms and badly-explained sex in total silence. When I finally escaped from the confines of the truck and the sex talk, I was more confused than I had been about sex before the conversation started. I thought I knew everything, but I was wrong. I thought people HUMPED when they had sex. Since when do they HUG? And what in the hell do birds and bees have to do with anything? Are the bees having sex with the birds? And if the bees really are having sex with the birds, what the hell does that have to do with people?
My dad looked over at me, and smiled. I don't know if he was excited about the breasts being displayed so prominently on the 36" TV, or if he saw the look of utter horror on my face. I don't think I even spoke to my dad for the rest of the night.
I'm almost 23 years old now, and I still avoid watching sex scenes with my parents. I do anything that's necessary. If it came down to it, I'd probably burn out my eyes if I had to.
2.) Knowing your parents are having sex. It's happened to everyone. Mom and dad go into their room in the middle of the day, and don't come out again. Or you wake up in the middle of the night, and hear strange noises. And no matter how old you get, you still react the same way, no matter what.
"EEEWWWW!!! OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S DISGUSTING!!! EW EW EW EW EW!!!!" Or something along those lines. It shatters your innocence, leaving you a shell of your former self. There is nothing that can undo what has been done. Maybe you deal with it differently than I do. I usually just sit in a dark corner, rock back and forth, and tell myself that everything's going to be ok. But nothing will be ok, because I know that my parents were having sex.
3.) Swearing for the first time. I was 10 years old when I first swore in front of my parents. I said "Ass". My mother's jaw dropped open. She stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to catch my mistake. When I realized what I had said, I apologized profusely. But, unfortunately for me, I found out what a bar of Dove soap tastes like. Yuck. Even well into my late teens, I was reluctant to swear around my parents.
4.) The "Birds and Bees" conversation. My dad and I were driving home from fishing when I was 13 (I guess he decided it was better to wait until I had already found out everything he was going to tell me from my friends). And started in.
"Buster, when two people love each other very much, they take off their clothes, and they sort of hug."
All I could say was "Uhh... Yeah."
I endured the next half an hour of endless euphemisms and badly-explained sex in total silence. When I finally escaped from the confines of the truck and the sex talk, I was more confused than I had been about sex before the conversation started. I thought I knew everything, but I was wrong. I thought people HUMPED when they had sex. Since when do they HUG? And what in the hell do birds and bees have to do with anything? Are the bees having sex with the birds? And if the bees really are having sex with the birds, what the hell does that have to do with people?
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