Blushing Cake

Off Topic
1

Indeed the cuckolds of my heart are warming.

Oh, wait…that’s not my cuckold at all…

My mistake.

Where are the Cakes musings?, well what a flattering question…being as I am twitching like a spunky puppy from your seeming need for some “Cake-isms”, I will forego peeing on your shoes and offer this instead…

Disfigurement.

Not the gonna be lonely for the rest of your life, better go to charm school just so the dog will play with you, wouldn’t it be great to be at least as good looking as Rosie O’Donnell kind of disfigurement. I mean the kind of disfigurement that are roadmaps from our pasts. Scars, Marks and Dents, the kind of things that when you rub them, make you go Ahhhh…I remember when…

That kind of Disfigurement. Looking in the mirror the other day I was inspecting my “Ruggedness”, it turns out that much of my childhood was spent on my face and memories of Doug Zarowski, Berend Binder and I flinging HUGE chunks of Rock Hard Mud at each other in what we called “playing” are only a glance in a mirror away. Ask me where I grew up and I can show you a body part that corresponds to a landmark in my hometown: Big scar, right calf, bottom of the soleus? West Kildonan park, right in front of the garden keepers sheds, West Entrance,…let me unbuckle and I can show you City Hall when I…Oh, O.K, family show, right…

Anyway, my point is that all of us have the badges of growth that we acquired when we were growing up, natural tattoo’s that youth gave us when we weren’t looking. Think back to your childhood and to your badges? how many do you have?, better yet, how many should you have? We are lucky to be alive today. As a matter of fact, to see how today’s children are being raised and the insulation society as a whole, (you my friend are doing a great job, it’s those other horrible parents that are wrecking it for everybody, really, you’re doing fantastic…) is wrapping our kids in, it’s a good thing that we aren’t growing up today, surely according to today’s parent we’d be dead.

I have to wonder what kind of tattoo’s are my kids are going to have?

These poor kids are swaddled in caution from the minute they wake up till it’s nighty-nite time and not only by my wife but from strangers as well:

Daughter #1: Dad, Kari’s Mom wants to talk to you

Note here…Kari is spelled with a “K”, this seems to matter to Kari’s parents, I suggested that they should have named her something easier for strangers to spell if the misspelling bothers them so much, something like “Bob”…Kari’s parents have no sense of humour

Me: Hello Kari’s Mom, this is Hammers Dad! (I, at this point am unsure just who Kari is, let alone her mother but I figure I should be nice until further notice)

Kari’s Mom: Um, Hello?,Who is Hammer?

Me: Oh, sorry, I mean Sam…Hammers just a nick…ah never mind, what can I do for you?

Kari’s Mom: Kari has asked if Sam could come over to go swimming

Me: Sure!

Kari’s Mom: She will be O.K, we have life-jackets and floatation devices in the pool

Me: Sure!

Kari’s Mom: My husband Mark and I are both certified in CPR and many other achronymed First-Aid techniques

Me: Sure!

Kari’s Mom: And Consuela our Nanny will also be at the pool, so there will be plenty of eyes watching

Me: Great!

Kari’s Mom: We also have a wide selection of Sunscreen too, from 15 SPF all the way up to and including some old paint we found in the garage that we can slather on if it gets too sunny

Me: That’s also Great!

Kari’s Mom: She isn’t allergic to anything is she? because if she is we have epi-pens and bee-sting kits but I was going to run out and pick up a few things at the store and figured I really should have some Juice of Mango leaf just in case.

Me: In case of what?

Kari’s Mom: Scorpion stings

Me: In Canada?

Kari’s Mom:Well, you never know…so is Sam allergic to anything?

Me: Just hard work Ha Ha!

Kari’s Mom: Pardon?

Anyway, Sam went swimming and had a good time. When she returned I asked how it went…

Flinging rocks at each others heads? Nope

No Hand Wheelies? Nope

Cannonballs from the patio? Nope

Time spent with no parental supervision? Nope

Running from Police even though they weren’t “doing anything wrong” and rip inside of leg open hopping Mrs.Wilson’s fence? Nope

Yet she said she had FUN…go figure…

I tried to get my kids interested in the finer points of “being careless” but it seems that they have some sort of built in aversion to it:

“Hey!, lets go throw this around outside!”

“Dad, that’s not funny”

“Sure, it will be fun!..here, go deep”

“Dad, put Grandma’s ashes down”

Obviously they demonstrate some weird…um…you know some sort of a, ah…rare “careful” thing or something’s. They sure as hell didn’t inherit it from me. I have no idea where they got it from and I am blaming society. There, I said it. It is not my fault. Hah! It’s the damn “Safety Sally’s” that have wrecked my kids and I know what started it too.

Peanut Butter.

Yeah, you heard me right, Peanut Butter, I know, I know you’re saying to yourself “But I Love Peanut Butter, it’s so smooth and creamy and…soft…and…sweet…and my tongue laps it right off “Brenda’s” plastic thigh just like…” Oops, I mean if you are Timmy P, that’s what you are saying, the rest of you are wondering what I have against good ole PB.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

But my kids SCHOOL, well, that’s a whole other thing. You see, Peanut Butter is one sneaky legume because if not carefully secured in your home at all times it will LEAP OUT OF MY KIDS SANDWICH AND CRAM ITSELF DOWN BILLY CONRAD’S THROAT!

That’s right, even though I can’t lick this stuff off the roof of my mouth (and, hey, I’m not bragging but I happen to have a VERY powerful tongue), much like the feared Egyptian Cobra the lightning strike of “Uncle Carver’s All-Natural Goober Butter” will have poor little Billy laid out and wheezing for air before anyone can even think of opening a Dunkaroo.

Evil.

Just Evil.

I can see the headlines now:

“Man catches Wife cheating, kills Lover then turns Peanut Butter on self”…Full story at Eleven…

If you don’t already know, it turns out that just about every kid nowadays is allergic to Peanut Butter. Now, I would never make fun of a potentially fatal allergy but I think that the REACTION is the problem here. How many friends have you or your spouse or your kids lost over the years, not from actually CONSUMING Peanut Butter but from it being in the same Lunchroom?

How did this happen? How did we go from “Here honey, why don’t you take these pointy sticks and run over there and play beside the road” to “LOOK OUT FOR PEANUT BUTTER!”

I mean, I am not advocating an increase in possibly fatal activities for our children but a loosening of the societal apron strings and a return to a time when kids were KIDS.

“Don’t do that honey, it’s dangerous”

“Come down from there, it’s dangerous”

“Not without a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist guards, shin pads and a kidney belt, it’s too dangerous”

For Christ’s sake, according to the memo sent home regarding an upcoming field trip to a museum, it’s pretty freaking dangerous out there:

Dear Concerned Parent:

We are pleased to be going to the Museum of Modern Art, Human History and Old stuff. As we are sure you are aware (and as outlined in paragraphs 1a to 78b) it is the School boards policy to review liabilities and extents of responsibilities, to wit:

If your child is injured in any way/manner by an employee, agent, volunteer, official, patron, guest, stander-by, guy walking his dog or crazy"Willy" who lives in the stairwell by the rear entrance at said destination, full disclosure by an appointed, independent moderator chaired by a panel of Weasel Faced lawyers referring to article XXV Plebious Maximus V. Lion and adjudicated by proxy of qualified governmental beaurocratic atheist functionaries who may or may not be considered by Federal Law to possess authority and superseding WWE lunch box and action figure rights…and so forth

Well, maybe that is not quite verbatim but it’s damn close. Of course circa 1980 things were allot simpler:

Dear Carl’s Mom:

If Carl does not make it back from our field trip to the Alligator farm consider it a blessing. The blood from his constant nose picking is sure to attract the hungry, fast ones.

What the hell is wrong with that kid?

Signed Mrs. Crabtree

X______________

See! Good times, the kind of times when you were responsible for yourself and there were no Safety Sally’s running around protecting us from every little thing, the kind of times when you could earn your scars.

Yes, sir, Good times.

If you need me, I’ll be sharpening some sticks.

“Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn’t.”

~ Mark Twain

2

Cake you kick ass.

Always wondered what the cops would do if I ran for no reason. Hey I am kinda bored I should Go try ;).

Gonna go eat some PB now!!! Fortunatly I was born just before everone started to get allergic to it! Glad for that one.

3

cupcake,
Just thought I’d bless your thread with my presence. I agree with your assertions in this thread. Part of being a male is leaving childhood with a ton of scars. It has everything to do with learning boundaries the hard way. I know you’ll believe this: I am hard-headed and left childhood with the scars to prove it!!! Hell, I’m still acquiring. My body will go before the stubborness does.
Had to agree with you once in a while. Otherwise, I would actually begin to resemble the person you accuse me of being. Can’t let you be right too many times.
US=GG.

4

Cake, this post was so timely, I just bought a set of lawn darts at a garage sale the two Saturdays ago. I’ve never actually played a game of lawn darts, I don’t even no how, I just bought them for the old memories they brought back (that and they were only $.50, which is too good a bargain to pass up) . I just know they made great a alternative projectile weapon in the old neighbourhood bow and arrow and rock fights we used to have.

5

Magnus, lawn darts were the sinlge best picnic game ever! We were just talking about that at my family reunion. Anyone remember creepy crawlers? I think it was for ages six and up and came with a little oven!
To much safety doesn’t allow for the normal thining of the herd.

6

You said my man the times they are a changing for the the better or worse they are changing,.

And like you cup I look upon the scars and markings of my youth with great reverence that I earned each and everyone.
Lui

7

Cuppy… I totally agree. I love your “Cakisms”.
I wish this was a society were you could let your kids roam the neighbor like we did as kids. I loved roaming the woods and discovering new plants (I found a Venus-Fly-Trap once) and building forts and bridges. We actually carried machettis (sp) at 6 or so and built things. We’d cut down trees (small ones of course) and make whatever…
At four I was making grilled cheese sandwiches, spreading the butter w/ KNIVES (heaven forbid), and cooking them w/out adult supervision. We had one of those old gas stoves that you had to light the burner w/ a match to start the flames… I did that at four. (Sometimes I’m surprised I’m not dead or I didn’t burn down anything) I grew up on a farm in Alabama (flame away LOL) and my mom used to rake the leaves in to many piles and set each one on fire. I used to set sticks on fire and light all the other fires and messed around w/ each pile… was tiny…no more than 5. I also remember my mom teaching me how to sew with a real needle and everything gasp. I can’t imagine todays society letting kids do those things. Parents would get in trouble if the kid hurts himself if playing w/ fire, knives, needles and so on… they would send child services over to investigate.
I remember the days when every little boy had bb guns (sometimes bigger) and ran around w/ no shirts and bare feet. (sidenote- my brother shot me between the eyes w/ his bb-gun, so maybe they weren’t such a good idea, but hey, I have a “tattoo” to show for it) We used to walk to the pool witch was several blocks away by ourselves and swim w/ no parental supervision (sure there were lifegaurds but…) and we were under 10. I can’t imagine dropping my daughter off anywhere. It’s sad that you can’t trust society and the innocense is gone. I blame it on television and the media… Too much of it. (I’m not saying that I blame my kids behavior on the media. I blame the unsafe society on the media. Of course I’ve opened a can of worms and I don’t feel like debating… )
Good thread 'Cake!!
Cheers!
Christina

8

Cake -

That was one of the funniest yet saddest things I have ever read.

9

Cake you rock my friend. This here forum just wouldn’t be the same without you.

10

Lawn darts? Are you crazy? Sounds like someone wants to die early…
JK, I remember those things. Awsome find and there is always room for more useless junk.

11

Great post… I still have a nice dent on my forehead from flipping over my handlebars courtesy of a homemade ramp.

12

Yep, the good ole’ days.

I remember my dad telling me about him and his friends putting on heavy clothes and goggles, and and then running around shooting each other with BB guns.

Oh, the insanity!

How about climbing trees? One of the all time childhood favorites. Have you heard the mothers’ frantic yelps these days when little Billy risks life and limb by climbing up into a gasp tree?

And in our neighborhoods, they’ve torn down all the big slides that used to be there and replaced them with smaller, “safer” (but sure as hell not near as fun) ones.

Same with the “monkey bars” we used to climb on as kids. Gone. Too dangerous.

How about “war ball” or “dodge ball” where you lined up inflatable rubber balls on a center line and kids from each side would run toward the balls, grab one, and start drilling each other until no one was left standing. Gone. Too dangerous.

Not only has society gone way overboard on the physical “protection” of our kids, but the emotional cushioning as well.

We have games where we don’t keep score lest someone’s feelings get hurt. Tests where there are no “F’s” lest we harm some poor kid’s self esteem.

It’s gone beyond ridiculous. It’s sad.

I for one, am encouraging my kids to dare a little and have fun, even if it means getting scuffed up a little bit.

And they love it.

13

Between Cake and Solo’sGirl the childhood memories come a floodin’ back.

Things that seem absolutely absurd by today’s standards:

I cut my reading “teeth” not on Dr. Seuss or Sesame Street, but by the King James Bible at age 3.

When I was 3, my brother (5) and I would spend entire days in the woods and swamp. We’d build tree forts, catch all sorts of snakes and bugs, get covered with leaches from the swamp and think it was funny to see how far they’d stretch before they’d pop off or tear in two and all the blood would spurt out. We had menageries in Mason jars of black widows, bird spiders and scorpions. We once tore the shell off a turtle to see if it actually looked all soft and smooth inside it’s shell like the turtles in Buggs Bunny. It didn’t. And my mom was rather upset that we were covered in it’s blood.

My dad taught me to change the car’s oil when I was 4 - and we then poured the used oil over the 3 foot high ant hills in the backyard and lit them on fire. Ant funeral pyres burning into the Louisiana night. He taught me to change a tire at age 5. And he taught me how to shoot the kitten you love in the head with a .22 after it got caught in the fan belt of the car, and bury it with love.

I don’t remember where along the way I learned to cook but I do remember that I, alone, cooked our Thanksgiving dinner when I was 5 (can’t remember where mom was)… and it turned out pretty damn good. Twice a week thereafter, it was my job to cook the family dinner. No Hamburger Helper or Mac-n-cheese. Full meals of meat, two veggies, a starch and dessert.

I attended private school from K-5, skirts and blouses mandatory, and I made every single school outfit myself on my mom’s Bernina sewing machine.

My brother and I used to play in the new housing developments and come home caked in mud from ears to toes (lost more than one shoe in all that mud).

We’d get into neighborhood BB gun fights on the rooftops. The houses were close enough together that you could jump from house roof to garage roof, to house roof to garage roof - all around the entire block. We’d chase eachother over the roofs and the old folks would come out and yell at us to get off their houses - and the other kids would join in. Can you imagine 8 kids between 10-15 years old shooting eachother with BB and pellet guns, taking cover behind chimneys and dormers? If we got cornered, we’d duck inside the house’s attic and sneak down to the front door to get away. I still have one scar on my knee from a pellet that got lodged in there and we had to dig it out with a pen knife.

God, to be a kid again. But not one of today’s kids… I’d only do it if I could go back to that time.

14

bigprljamfan,
Sorry, I did generalize there. I meant to imply that males seem to have more scars thanks to taking ridiculous physical risks. I should have thought that we are on the Testosterone forum and the women here probably took just as many physical risks. As usual, Karma’s honesty is appreciated. The whole tearing up animals brings back some repressed memories. I hope God is not keep a running tally of how many insects and other animals we each killed in the guise of “experimentation.” If God does, than I am in real trouble.

15

that is just bitchin!

i am so putting this on my bookshelf. right where “how to make friends and influence people” has been collecting dust. why is it nobody sees growth in mistakes anymore?

16

When I have kids. If they’re allergic to peanut butter, I’m gonna make em eat peanut butter til they’re not allergic to it no more.

17

damn you guys are just bringing back all kinds of memories from when i was a kid. those bb gun wars were fun! but we were a little more careful when we played. we wore masks or helmets so we don’t get hit in the eye. my brother how ever would have the air rifles and pump them all the way up to 10 and shoot someone like 10 feet away. OUCH!! now that would hurt. but i guess he is more in your guy’s child hood times. i would still be in dipers or not even born yet when you guys were playing. its funny though cause i look at some of my scars and i don’t even know how i got them in the first place. then i have others that when i look at them i remember what time and what day that i got it and how. ok i know i’m going to get flamed for this…but oh well (flame away) i never realy like peanut butter. yeah i know i crazy but each to there own i guess. hey thanks for the memeories everybody! :smiley:

18

Seems like a few of you can relate!..Lawn darts can be dangerous. Especially in the hands of Uncle Abe after about 8 of Grandma Makeiff’s “special” pink lemonade vodka slushies. Now this had the potential to be a negative thing but as he was playing with his kid Dean at the time (Big, Granola-eating Goofball), it struck most of us as funny and ole’ “Gimpy” Deano was too thick to understand even years later that we were not laughing “with” him.

The new-fangled Estrogen inspired version uses BEAN BAGS!, now I don’t know about you but heaving heavy, pointy darts in the air (hey, who HASN’T played “How high can you throw it?”) was WAY more testosterone generating than chucking bean bags around the back yard.

For Christ’s sake, that’s enough to make Richard Simmons feel awkward about how Gay it is.

You have to ask yourself how many stupid people are there?

Now ask yourself how many of these stupid people could have been filtered out only using lawn darts? Sure the wounds may not have been fatal but perhaps, just PERHAPS the immediate pain and the lasting scar would be enough to kick start their brain and at the very least give the impression of a few added IQ points. Irondoc is right, I think that we should look at lawn darts as the genetic filter, a societal Myostatin if you will.

I have checked with the local authorities and Solo’s Girl is cleared to “run around with no shirt” at my house, provided she stays within the yard. I hops that this will bring back warm and fuzzy mammar…ahem…“memories” for her and offer it purely as a kind gesture.

No Solo, you are not invited.

Sorry.

Yes, we should use our mistakes to learn from, I am sure that all of us live/work with those who would much rather make 5 right decisions a week than make 11 right ones and 5 wrong ones. It’s these weak pussies that fear failure so much that they invite disaster with their “slow and steady wins the race” mentality.

The problem is that life is not a race, the finish line looks the EXACT SAME for all of us. I know, I skipped ahead and read the ending.

It’s the journey there that’s the thing and I for one would rather see the world go ripping by at unsafe speeds while my passengers dig their nails in the dash than take a fucking Sunday stroll through the Tulips.

So go ahead, have some Peanut Butter on me. (even you, Jolly White…)

“To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence”

~ Mark Twain

P.S…~K~, insert "Gun derived “Shoot Karma” dirty sex comment here

---------->

Mmm…DIRTY SEX!

'Cake

19

LMAO
Thanks Cakies… LOL After having two kids, you’d have your own National Geographic subject running around your backyard… LOL That was a nice visual, huh? :slight_smile:

20

Myself and the rest of the Nation are doing to pretend we didn’t just read that…

Methinks you are stretching the truth a bit, keep doing that and your credibility will sag not to mention that the firmness of your conviction will be called into question.

Stop sandbagging the truth.

Viva La SHIRT!

“My mother never breast-fed me. She told me she liked me as a friend”

~ Rodney Dangerfield