Y’all just thought you were gonna get outta here without a “real” blog today, eh? Not true.
I’m gonna go a ways back again tonight, back when I was about 8 or 9 years old. We went to a basketball game of my brother The Groom. He would have been 5 or 6 at the time. We were real competitive kids, as anyone at that age is. As we were leaving the gymnasium, we had to take some trash out of our minivan, and put it in the trash cans across the playground. We got to the cans, deposited our refuse, and headed back.
“Let’s race,” I said.
“Okay,” said The Groom.
Off we went! It was maybe a 200 yard dash back to the van, and I was the faster of the two for sure. (At this point in my life, I was like 6’10” and weighed 8 pounds. No lie, I’ve shrunk in height.) There was only one tiny little problem. It was getting dark. The street lights were on, and they were giving everything a funny look. I kind of slowed down to compensate, but The Groom trucked on.
In order to facilitate this victory, I was going to have to find a shortcut. Alas! The monkeybars! I know y’all remember monkey bars. Well, I saw them, saw a gap in the bars, and decided to shoot through that bad boy on my way to a win and gloating rights the entire ride home.
I have an exceptionally hard head. If I had to reference it, think maybe Wolverine (only because I just saw the movie) but not quite as hard. Some people in my life will tell you it can be much harder, but I think maybe they’re speaking figuratively. I hope.
That being said, this was the only time in my life I’ve ever seen stars.
I was back to running full speed when I hit that bar. I saw ACTUAL stars, and then promptly went out like classiness when Kayne West enters a room.
Upon being revived by my father, my hair was discovered on said monkey bar. I had hit so hard, my effin HAIR came out. I had a goose egg the size of that retarded mask thing Lady Gaga had on at the VMA’s. It was ridiculous, and to this day, I have no idea how I didn’t have a concussion. Heck, I didn’t even go to the hospital.
That folks, concludes my story of how shortcuts, no matter how attractive in the moonlight, or streetlight, are not always a good idea.
Wow. I’m deep. That totally applies to chicks, too.