Thursday, February 26, 2009


First Grade. I'm 6 years old. My best friend is Melissa. She's fat. Not disgusting. But the fattest person in our class. No matter, Melissa is hilarious. We have fun together. So it's the day after we get back from Christmas break. And everyone is parading around in their new clothes, looking and feeling sexy. I'm wearing this hot pink and purple number with cats on the sweater. My parents would never buy a sweater this sweet. It was from their friends Ralph and Amy. They know what's cool. Not anymore though. Ralph just got out of jail and Amy left their daughter with her new husband to go get a job in another city. Life sucks.
So it's lunch time and there's just enough room for all the girls in our class to sit at one table except for two. Guess who the two girls are who sit at a big long table by themselves.
Me and Melissa. Fuck 'em. We're having a better, bosser party over here.
Melissa's been whining about a stomach ache but I keep babbling on about my holiday.
Suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, she barfs like a gallon of puke onto her tray, drowning her food in this viscous brown upchuck. And here's the funny part: she pukes straight down onto her tray, looks up at me with coffee colored dribble sliding down her chin and says: "Caitlin I barfed!".
I guess little kids don't know what to say in that circumstance. Like, obviously you barfed.
And here's my disgusting, self-centered answer to my best friend: "Don't get it on ME!".
Ugghh. I have so many regrets in my life. And this is one of them. Being sick when you're young is like dying. It's unbearable. I didn't help at all. She ran to the garbage can with her tray and threw the whole thing away. And ran to the nurse, after asking an "aid" if it was alright.
And all I could think about was my new sweater, and how I didn't want any puke on it.

Now in 5th grade, I had a friend Erin. And I used to pee my pants a lot. From laughing too hard. I still do. I've laugh-peed as recently as 2008. It's a thing. And it's better than shitting the bed. Erin used to make me laugh so hard. A kid with pee stains is not ever going to live that down. Backing out of the room can only be used once or twice. So Erin would give me her sweatshirt to tie around my waist so no one would see the pee. Isn't that the nicest gesture? Even nicer was: I would give it back to her at the end of the day, with MY pee on it, and she would wash it. Or her dad would, rather. That's a good friend.
That's a GOOD friend.


  1. goddamn. i just went through your old postings, looking for my clever, lengthy and well thought out (read: drunken) responses, and found that there was NOTHING.

    fucking internet.

    if you don't see this, it's because the internet is against me. and that really shouldn't be seen as a bad thing, because i fucking hate it, and it's nice to know that your enemies feel the same about you. one small battle in the colin vs. robots war.

    neo-luddite with a blog. what a fucking joke. i should just get a myspace.

    either way, keep up the sweet childhood stories that bring out the "lol". i will be in your neck of the woods in a couple weeks, for that propagandhi gig. which i brought up in my past two comments on here that apparently never made it through the line. fuck.

    ok, i hope you see this because i am irrationally terrified of the phone.

    much love,

  2. dear you,

    i cannot wait for puke II.
    the depth of realization through childhood reflection makes me feel better about life.
    i hope you know you are a beautiful person.
    come stay with shannon and i soon.

    with love,

    ps thank you for the valentiiiiine!

  3. oh fuck, i just commented under shannon's name. she didn't log out! that brat!

  4. with timid steps baby stu drunkenly edged his way towards the BLOGOSHPERE! "will it ruin my credibility as an artist" the baby laughed. "of course not." shrieked the BLOGOSHPERE.



    sweet story dude, you are one of the great storytellers of our time... I mean that, you should read children stories so their imaginations get all plump and thick like.




  5. Julie: I'm not a brat, I just steal all oof your stuff and leave my stamp on it. Like how I am going to put on your jeans tonight and fart in them.

    Catio: This is hilarious, and your childhood memories put me back in the "Auditeria" (it was a combination auditiorium and cafeteria). Or Maybe it was called the "Cafetorium." It's not important. What is important is that you can capture an entire era of my life with each of your stories. Keep them comin, I love reading them.