Fish sticks and tater tots

I probably think you're better than me. Also cooler than me.

Never mind that I have done some simply mind blowing things in my life.
For instance:
I moved to Helsinki, Finland from Savannah, GA.
The deep south. Oh how I miss it.
How I long for fried chicken and collard greens with corn bread and sweet tea. Road side boiled peanuts...

I made the mistake of using the word, "grits", here in Finland.
"Grapes?" he asks. No... "grits." "Grapes remind me of that grapefruit..." "No...grits. G-R-I-T-S" "Yes...grapes..."
I almost lost my mind. Thank goodness he wanted to say good bye to his grand daughter and smoke a cigarette.
Never saying "grits" in Finland ever again.

The only thing I have is fish sticks and "tater tots" which aren't really tater tots. They're these little potato rounds with onion. They're tasty all the same, but they're not tater tots.

So I am always reading other blogs and I feel like I have nothing to say. I don't think I'm as cool or as interesting or have anything so much fun to say as they do.
I'm trying real hard though.
I am also skeptical about posting my poetry on my blog because it's pretty fucking awesome poetry and I'm worried you'll steal it and claim it as your own. Asshole.

So, I'm going to write about my childhood which, if I think real hard, I can remember it. I was at one point so sure that I had it completely blocked out and all I could remember were the stories my parents told me and what I saw on our home videos which are no longer functioning. Because, honestly, they're VHS tapes. They got destroyed with age.
I remember the huge video camera that was used.
I remember my brother used it. I specifically remember this video clip, which will be told as a story, because there is no longer the video clip:
My dad was knocking down the brick wall between the private bedroom patio and the rest of the backyard to the swimming pool. Happily destroying the bricks with a large sledge hammer, my brother video taping and exclaiming, "IT'S THE BERLIN WALL!"
That's about all I remember.
Which brought a flash back of having this pink stroller type deal which I could put things in, mainly I put tree frogs in there. Because I love tree frogs.

It doesn't seem as amusing as the one time I was babysitting this precious little girl. (I forgot her name, I'm a horrible person!)
She kept telling me about "the cheese!" I asked her about the cheese.
She had been hiding cheese cubes in her stuff. It was awesome.
She also told me about skritches and about mud.

I was totally scared she pooped herself.
But no, the ground was covered in mud (what happened to lava!?) and if you got mud on you, you had to "skritch" it away.
Pretty awesome game. She always won though. AIDEN! Her name was Aiden. I remember now. She was a darling.

I also have a reputation for destroying glass tanks. Fish tanks. More about that later.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

When I was a child I was a compulsive liar.

I lied about anything and everything.

The one lie which sticks out in my mind the most is one that ended up involving the police. I don't know how it ever actually ended but there are parts I remember vividly.

It started because my neighbor, Dillian, and I were playing in my yard near the trashcans. I had this tree in the yard that grew these strong scented orange things. I don't know if they were edible or what. Well a bunch had fallen off and we were picking them from the tree climbing on the white, brick fence and throwing them playfully at each other.

Well Dillian threw one that hit me in the eye. It didn't hurt, just surprised me.

At some point later that day, maybe even the next day, my sister notices my eye. I apparently had a shiner. She shows it to Mom and they ask me what happened. Rather than say it was an accident I came up with this huge elaborate story that these two guys drove up in a station wagon and one of them hit me.

I remember the cops coming and asking for a description. I don't know how I described them but I remember saying that they had animal furs, like tiger fur, in their car, and guns. They definitely had guns.

We were standing in the living room. I was against the wall closest to the front door, I remember the beige pink of the cold floor tiles. I had my hands clasped behind my back, fidgeting, but always keeping them clasped, whether it was in the front or back.

I told the story eagerly.

I don't know if it was an obvious lie, if they actually looked for these fictional characters who punched me in the eye. Maybe it was a trick to get me to tell the truth, to learn my lesson, to see how far I would take the lie.

I have no idea.

I just remember telling that stupid, ludicrous lie.

I did lie about everything.

Although, this whole story could be a false memory for all I know. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe I imagined it all up...