Rude Awakening
It must have been my bladder’s figurative little way of tapping me on the shoulder to let me know that unless I wanted extra laundry to take care of I might want to think about getting out of bed. After a careful stretch I flopped my legs over the side of the mattress and with the slightest groan, usually reserved for stairwells and particularly satisfying pasta, gave a push and planted my feet firmly in 1963…
Dammit! Wrong side, again!
The year itself wasn’t really the problem; being a slave to the trombone wasn’t really the problem; fourth grade wasn’t even really the problem. Other fourth graders, that was the problem.
It’s not that I have the type of personality that invites abuse. In certain situations I do, however, adopt a more relaxed, non-threatening posture so that if abuse happens to be in the neighborhood it takes on a very informal air and feels as though it needs no invitation. One of those situations was fourth grade. Fortunately, my mother was a seamstress who managed to design and construct special underpants for those times when some of the larger children were in a wedgie kind of mood. This underwear would lift quite easily out of the back of my jeans, fit comfortably over my head, and had eyeholes strategically placed so I could still see to copy assignments from the blackboard. Ingenious, and less painful, but it did little to promote my image as a lady’s man.
Band was an area where I could really excel. First chair would have been mine that year if we had remembered to cut a hole in the underwear for the mouthpiece. And I prefer not to discuss the episode with the spit valve.
All in all, I would rather have woken up just outside of London this morning instead of 1963.
But, on the bright side, I remembered to pack my special underpants.
So I'm assuming you stepped on the trombone? That really was a rude awakening. Anyway, did you mom ever consider mass producing the underpants? There could have been a market.
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I never thought of that. The nerd market is probably wide open right now.
I'll pass on the suggestion. Thanks!
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Man, your momma sure knows how to take care of you.
funny stuff!
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Thanks, Shelly.
Custom underwear and the occasional grilled cheese sandwich. Moms are intuitive like that.
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So THAT'S why there were only 76 trombones...
By the way, I used to play the Hambone (have you heard?)
Cheers,
Mitch
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Yes, I heard that you played the Hambone. That was my prime motivation for removing the speakers from my computer.
Thanks, Mitch.
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It really doesn't matter where you wake up as long as you are properly dressed.
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Or are preparing to be properly dressed. If you wake up dressed your clothes get all wrinkly.
I hate that, don't you?
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Being a geek, I'm still not sure how I got through school being the victim of only one wedgie. Lucky, I guess.
And some of us are, in spite of warnings, curious about the spit valve episode...
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You know the old saying, "Lucky in wedgies, unlucky in cards."
I may live to regret your curiosity.
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That was quite a flashback for so early in the morning! I'm also curious about the spit valve issue, but a little afraid to ask.
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You should be afraid, Montucky.
And, yes, 1963 is awfully early to get up.
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Its very good article. I visit here evaryday. Last Hidden object and Mah Jong for women and my Download Free Games portal, and new Target Practicing Games, BR's Rocket Rush.
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