drink some beer, man-whore!
Tylester dance all night long!
there's party in pants!
I dunno if I have posted on this before, but before and after the crack had transformified my mother into the Mystical Retard, she was a little weird. Known to grab crotches and chests on anything that moved for little to no reason, one of her favorite stories about me is how ugly I am.
She would tell random people, apparently any woman who shared a restroom with her, anyone who would listen, and then they would walk over and look upon me, waiting for me to do something else to boost their ego, or possibly to dig into my knickers and throw shit at them I dunno, I tried that once and she seemed surprised.
Anyway, here is the tale, the best I can recall, as it is usually told out of earshot:
When I was born I had clubbed feet. Severely clubbed feet that were so deformed you could actually touch my heel with all of my toes. Back in those days, doctors fixed that by rebreaking your legs, setting them and putting a bar with some crude orthopedic shoes on you for about 3 years. This would make any child slightly annoyed, but according to my mom and dad, I was the most evil child ever, apparently Omen-like. I didn't cry or anything like that, but I bit and scratched everyone, including my own family, and she said I would just stare with what I am assuming is an awe-inspiring malevolence at random people for minutes at a time. How an infant with a mean look frightened people is beyond me.
Anyway, on to the meat and potatoes of this story: Apparently, being evil was not enough, because I was blatantly hideous. Her favorite story was that she hated breastfeeding me because she couldn't stand to look into my hideous visage, I am assuming so ugly it caused nausea followed by spontaneous diarrhea and anal warts. I kind of doubt the veracity of this story since she also said she breastfed me for 18 months, and if I was that ugly why bother?
Anyway, she said when she was feeding me she would put a book or something over my face to not have to look at me, and on this particular occasion (cue "Family Matters" acoustic guitar "life lessons" music) she was doing just that, doing a crossword or something, maybe poking me in the face with the pen in a misguided attempt to give me ink poisoning (I kid about that), when I apparently took the book away and threw it on the floor, as if to say "look at me", which, I dunno if it is the same with other things, is something you should listen to when someone has your tit in their mouth. Life lessons, write that down.
Anyway, she picked her book up and put it back on my face, and I did it again, and apparently there was this....epiphany, when "I finally realized you were a beautiful baby, it was so spiritual Haggety haggety haggety Haagen-Daas! I'm an orange!" Which is how she ends each sentence nowadays. From then on she always looked upon me with pride and blah blah blah happiness and love what the fuck ever.
She told every girlfriend I have ever had this story, thus ensuring I would never get to mate with them.
Great times.
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