Good grief. Chuck may have the beginning stages of appendicitis. I stayed home from work today to keep an eye on him, which was a real treat since all he did was clutch his stomach and roll around in agony. Chuck, honey, your claim that you “never get sick” doesn’t count anymore because kidney stones and ruptured body parts usurp colds. Hello.
Anyway, I decided to call my step-sister, Patty, because I heard that her husband’s friend’s neighbor’s dog’s sister-in-law’s appendix once burst and I thought that her educated council on appendicitis symptoms might provide us with enough fodder/warm fuzzies to catapult us into more meaningful conversation, like why we never seem to talk about anything meaningful.
Chalk it up to cabin fever/excessive snow/a midday nip of Vodka, Patty was chatty. Before I could even broach the appendix thing, she launched into a rant about how she’d just gotten a call from the school principal. Apparently her son, Jack, who’s in second grade, told a fellow second grader to take off her pants. And she did.
Jack’s punishment was that he had to apologize to the little girl and her parents and eat lunch at his own solitary table in the cafeteria for the week. Patty and her husband also had to go to school for a conference with the teacher and principal. I thought it was kind of funny; Patty was ready to ring his nuts. She was so pissed off that we never even made it to the much hyped appendix banter.
After I hung up, I relayed the conversation to Chuck. Then I told him about how when I was in second grade, my schoolmate and neighbor Eric Martin and I were playing in his basement. All of a sudden, he stopped what he was doing and said, “Take off your pants.” My heart starting pounding; I didn’t know what to do. So I said, “You first.” He dropped his drawers and while he was standing there expectantly with his pants around his ankles, I booked past him up the stairs and ran like hell down the street to my house.
All of this got me wondering about our generational role models and if they have anything to do with our ability, or inability, to keep our pants on? I mean, we've gone from this:
Is it any wonder little girls are dropping their drawers on command? Or maybe I was just more discriminating (you can all just keep your flaky eyebrow comments to yourselves, thank you very much).
If you’d like to know more about appendicitis because you or a loved one are vomiting uncontrollably and you are 100% sure it’s not last night’s dinner, click here.
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