This Is Going to Hurt Me More Than It Will Hurt You
Last week saw me cramming madly and studying for my last two exams. Last weekend saw me turn 37. Those are my reasons for not blogging sooner. I have also come to the realization, thanks to some gentle teasing, that I need to join – or start – an anonymous group called “Friend Abuser’s Anonymous.” During the course of my birthday weekend I had several mini interventions to support friend’s initiative.
Cousin Janet regaled our little group with a tale from childhood about how my sister and I held her down on our Klunk-a-Klunk board. And tickled her. Until she wet herself. First of all, she should have known better than to tell us she had she had to pee. Secondly, I always did what my sister told me. And third, her brother’s locked one of our cousins in my uncle’s van until he soiled himself after announcing he had to go use the bathroom. That was just life in our family.
Over pre-dinner drinks Little Lord Fauntleroy reminded everyone of the TINY little bruise I gave him when demonstrating that age old “you better get in line” parenting trick of pinching the back of the arm. You know the one, when you just get a tiny bit of flesh from the meaty part of the triceps muscle and pinch. He asked me to show him, so I did.
Then KitKat had to tell his bruise story. If you need the exaggerated, overblown, unfounded
conjecture and details, go read ALL about it on his blog. The TRUTH of the matter is that he attacked me, silly little man (at his age he should know to pick on people his own size) so I pinned him down and gave him the typewriter. Another method of torture from my childhood where one person sits on the other’s chest, pins down their arms with their legs and repeatedly pokes the other person just below the collar bone. And I wonder why my Aunt Karen calls my brother and me “six foot horses.” We still do this to each other.
Then there was the accidental chipping of Mr. Underpants tooth. I admit that it was my hand that hit the bottle that chipped the tooth. For that I apologize repeatedly and sincerely. But it was my birthday and my birthday request – I Said Never Again But Here We Are by Rachel Stevens – that caused my arm to fly up with such unmitigated freedom and carelessness. Alberta Boy started the whole arms in the air thing so really it’s his fault.
But, to all those who have suffered at my hand, I would just like to say, “Hello, my name is Robert and I am a friend abuser.”
Cousin Janet regaled our little group with a tale from childhood about how my sister and I held her down on our Klunk-a-Klunk board. And tickled her. Until she wet herself. First of all, she should have known better than to tell us she had she had to pee. Secondly, I always did what my sister told me. And third, her brother’s locked one of our cousins in my uncle’s van until he soiled himself after announcing he had to go use the bathroom. That was just life in our family.
Over pre-dinner drinks Little Lord Fauntleroy reminded everyone of the TINY little bruise I gave him when demonstrating that age old “you better get in line” parenting trick of pinching the back of the arm. You know the one, when you just get a tiny bit of flesh from the meaty part of the triceps muscle and pinch. He asked me to show him, so I did.
Then KitKat had to tell his bruise story. If you need the exaggerated, overblown, unfounded
conjecture and details, go read ALL about it on his blog. The TRUTH of the matter is that he attacked me, silly little man (at his age he should know to pick on people his own size) so I pinned him down and gave him the typewriter. Another method of torture from my childhood where one person sits on the other’s chest, pins down their arms with their legs and repeatedly pokes the other person just below the collar bone. And I wonder why my Aunt Karen calls my brother and me “six foot horses.” We still do this to each other.
Then there was the accidental chipping of Mr. Underpants tooth. I admit that it was my hand that hit the bottle that chipped the tooth. For that I apologize repeatedly and sincerely. But it was my birthday and my birthday request – I Said Never Again But Here We Are by Rachel Stevens – that caused my arm to fly up with such unmitigated freedom and carelessness. Alberta Boy started the whole arms in the air thing so really it’s his fault.But, to all those who have suffered at my hand, I would just like to say, “Hello, my name is Robert and I am a friend abuser.”
posted by Robert Mitchell L.L. at
7:08 PM
5 Comments:
Oh no you di'int! how you gonna involve me in your abuse? that was low, Goose, real low.
Time will heal our wounds (and in my case, several hundred dollars in dental bills), but NOTHING will ever heal the mental anguish and emotional scaring that cut so deep.
Learn to control yourself, man! Can't we all just get along?
RelaX Lancy, we'll have those teeth looking good in no time ... and PLEASE! i thought that my (dental) services were well worth the bill! But honestly, it was thrilling to finally give you a good probing, I must say, not as dirty as I would have guessed .... :)'
The soon not to be dental student
aka "SDS"
oh darling- you are such and amateur abuser- your mother tended to be above such things but cousins ranlph and gary and I once - to our eternal shame one would hope-grabbed a mentally challenged 'cousin', stripped him, squashed blueberries all over his 'privates' and sent him home. Boy was his mom mad and came charging down the street to our house but received a cool reception from grandma- so you can see even harsher times.
auntie karen
Hey KitKat,
what kind of flowers would you like at your funeral?
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