So, Do You Like … Stuff?

.............. There are a lot of weird kids out there. I know this because we have a swimming pool in our development, and that is where all of the weird kids in the world go to hang out and challenge each other in various Olympic aquatic events, like who can eat the most sour cream & onion potato chips in the pool. .............. I was never able to express myself in grammar school, at least not through wardrobe. I attended a Catholic grade school and was forced to wear a standardized uniform. By the time I had reached the seventh grade, and my rebellious side had kicked in, I was relegated to sagging my pants to “stick it to the man”—or in this case, nuns—which must have looked even more ridiculous considering that the other half of my “hip-hop” wardrobe consisted of a white dress shirt and a clip-on tie. My background in self-expression notwithstanding, I was rather shocked when my sister, who is now a teacher at a public grade school, informed me that one of the fifth-grade students at her school was roaming the hallways wearing a shirt that read, “Pimpin’ ain’t easy.” .............. Only thing was, the ambulance was on the other side of the street. We would have to cross the race. Not helping matters was our proximity to the finish line, which meant runners were flying by at a furious pace. The paramedic had me propped up with my arm around his shoulder. It was then that everything moved in slow motion. In my head I heard the theme from “Platoon,” as amidst the chaos we attempted to reach the last ambulance out of Spring Lake. I looked to my left and noticed a woman on the ground, her face covered in blood. Apparently she didn’t eat breakfast either. We were forced to leave her behind, for my situation was more dire. I can only hope that she survived. No matter though, because we needed to cross the terrain. Could he possibly use a megaphone to shred what dignity remained, but save my life? Stop the race! Mike Kenny fell down. Mike Kenny fell down! .............. I knew it wasn’t a spray-on product, but I did not think it would be much more complicated. The box, however, came with a pair of latex gloves and strict instructions not to inaccurately mix the two tubes. Two tubes? The directions also strongly recommended that you sample the product on a small portion of your skin for 24 hours to ensure that you will not get a rash. Much better to get a Just For Men rash on my forearm than to have my entire beard fall off my face and carried away by parasites, leaving me looking like Rashy McRedface, I figured. .............. More perplexing, however, is the opportunity to purchase non-food items off the side of the road. For example, a few years ago, while I was leaving the Bronx and waiting in traffic on the exit ramp for the George Washington Bridge, I was presented the opportunity to buy a phone. Not a cell phone, but a phone for the house. It was not a sign alerting me to this once-in-a-lifetime deal, but a guy wearing a shirt that read, “XXX,” who was holding a garbage bag full of phones and aggressively approaching my vehicle. Of course, if I had been in the market for a landline at that particular time, I would have certainly purchased one right then and there. I’m sure it had a great warranty. .............. It should also be mentioned that the black light illuminates other things as well, most notably stains. Because we have several paint stains on the rocks outside and God-knows-what stains on the carpet in our house, I have almost had about twenty heart attacks as a result of shining the light on one of these stains, thinking a gargantuan and impenetrable-by-pliers scorpion has taken over our property. The same stains do this to me every night. Also, since we do this right before bed I have had nothing but scorpion-related dreams for the past two weeks. The other night I dreamt I had a scorpion dentist. Needless to say, this entire endeavor has been an exhausting assault on my senses.