I am obligated by the laws that govern web logs to post the following comment after participating in other events.
Please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME. It can be anything you want--good or bad--BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.
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11 comments:
Remember that time when we were like, 5, and Mom thought we'd been drinking. And we had been? (Or did you already mention that?)
I remember your high school graduation. We were so proud. The psychologists has always told us not to set our expectations too high for you, but what did they know, right? Mom and I were pretty choked up about it. I'd never seen the reform school campus looking cleaner and brighter than it did that day. And when we told Dad all about it during visitation at the prison the next month, he got a little teary-eyed himself.
THose hooked on phonics cassettes really worked for you, didn't they?
Had. ...had always told us...
Hooked-On-Grammar worked for me.
Yeah, but if you actually used "phonics," you wouldn't know how to spell "grammar."
And, "No," I do not remember drinking when I was 5. I believe I was only 4 at the time.
I was simply watching the game. Caught up in the antics of Meadowlark and Curley when I heard your voice above the crowd shouting *Two Bits, Four Bits,S ix Bits a Dollar...all for the Generals... Stand Up and Hollar* I stood alone...and our eyes met across the court. Time stood still and then, out of no where you began your tumbling routine down the side lines. Your red hair seemed to be aflame with every cartwheel you turned. My heart beat in concert with the high kicks of your knee socked legs. I knew you had done that all just for me. And in my heart, that will always be our moment.
Correction, I think Princess has been drinking ... I have never, ever, in all my life, stooped so low as to wear knee socks.
Remember that Valentine's when you had that big bouquet of Roses sent to my office? They were so beautiful...some were red...some were yellow...some were white... I was the envy of all my co- workers. They said I was so lucky to have a husband like you.
My kids often ask me to tell the story of how you and I met. I was a young mother and you were a cub reporter doing that series about YMCA programs across the country. When you came to our YMCA, you decided to sit in our the Tuesday evening yoga class. You were showing off with your pose of the tiger greet the morning sun move, and you just, well, snapped. You needed a rest anyway. The members of that class took turns visiting you at the psych ward and bringing you halva and gifilte fish. You chose to adopt me as your big sis of the north. And that's how I met my kids' favorite Uncle Jonboy! I still can't believe it's been so long since our paths crossed!
Oh, you had to bring up the yoga episode. Just because that pretzel-legged instructor could stick both feet behind her left ear didn't give her the right to speak to the rest of us that way.
And furthermore, I didn't do that much damage. They were able to rebuild.
I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was quarterback for the University of Texas Longhorns. We had just completed a flawless season and were invited to the Rose Bowl to play for the national championship. We were down by 4 points with 2 minutes remaining in the game. We just started a drive down field to score the winning touchdown. Our drive was stalled with 21 seconds remaining. It was 4th down and 5 to go for the first. We were out of time outs and I instructed my receivers to get out of bounds after they catch the ball to stop the clock. I set back in shotgun formation, the ball is snapped to me and I start to look for a open receiver. Finally I spot what i had been looking for, a wide open receiver in the inzone. I throw the perfect pass and we are about to score a touchdown and win. Then it happen, the first time I met you. This crazy drunken person jumps out of stands dressed up like the boomer sooner from Oklahoma and tackles my receiver before the ball got to him, costing us the game and the National Championship. Man you receiver the beating of your life that day for that stunt you pulled. I am glad to see that you have recovered with minimal brain damage.
I wasn't drunk! I was just moderately impaired and when I saw that Longhorn emblem close up, I had a flash back to my steer wrestling, rodeo days.
Steer wrestling? Shoot, Jonboy, you can't claim that you were any kind of steer wrestler just because of that calf-roping award! I never did figure out how that picture in the paper showed you pulling down Pepper Jack. I mean, I was there, looking out from the barrel. Don't tell me my wig got in the way--a rodeo clown has to keep his eyes open constantly. No sir, my guess is you already had that reporter job lined up with your "buddy" Esther the photographer. Steer wrestler, my eye!
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