The Gonzo Wolf

The cool part about getting old is all the childhood memories flying past your frontal lobe on their way to oblivion; forever forgotten to make room for how to operate your Life Alert pendant. I haven’t fallen recently, and I have no problems getting up.

I post more sexual innuendo before 9am than most people do all day.

This morning, the memory of how I learned the difference between boys and girls paid a visit.

I was in the first grade and hanging out with the son of my eventual creative writing teacher. He and I lived a block away from one another, and rode our bicycles all over town like the kids in ET. It was a lifestyle.

We had climbed his neighbor’s privacy fence to talk to a couple of cuties from my first grade class. They were sporting their kiddie one-pieces, splashing around in their plastic wading pool, and schooling us on the finer points of My Little Pony or Barbie or whatever it was girls were into back then. I was into Atari, and nothing else mattered.

Mid-conversation, one of the girls announced that she had to pee, but she didn’t want to track wet feet and grass all over their house. So, she squatted over a bucket, pissed THROUGH her swimsuit, and called it a day. Right in front of us.

Mind blown.

Some people rave about the first time they visit The Smithsonian; I, on the other hand, will never forget the scientific contributions of Pee-Pee Jennifer. Chicks pee’d sitting down!

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. What do you guys reminisce about with your morning coffee?