That's right....Some of our female readers had some pretty strong reactions to the first installment of Meet My Socks...Strong enough that I have been spirited away to an undisclosed location for my safety and that of my family. So we decided to go in a different direction on Mondays..That new direction ? Backwards. that's right folks, on Mondays I will travel into the Archives here at Sandwich Flats, and share some Memories with you...Monday Memories...
Awwww...Isn't that sweet ?
Huh ? You think it's lazy ? You think I'm just recycling old posts...You could not BE more wrong, Mister Wrong Pants!!
What I am doing is traveling back through time, and taking you ever so gently by the hand, and taking you along for the ride. our destination today ? March 16th, 2005. Enjoy, Crimestoppers.
Coming Clean On Steroids
It's time...I need to move on...put it all behind me, and move forward...I was a steroid user...there, I have typed it out loud...you know what, I feel better...I truly do...it is as if a HUUUUUGE weight is lifted off of my shoulders- see steroids DO make you stronger ! Ha-ha-ha-ha...Just kidding...I'm sorry that was in bad taste...This is no joking matter...
Let me tell you the rest of my tale...I started using steroids when I was 12...I used them to gain an advantage over the other paperboys in the neighborhood...It was a cutthroat business, that newspaper delivery...you were always looking for an edge...a lot of the guys took speed, to get their papers delivered faster, but I didn't feel that faster was enough. I felt they needed to get there faster, but also with more force, and hopefully with an uncontrollable rage behind them, and 'roids was the way to do it. It was a crazy time...
Did the route supervisors know ? Sure they did. How could they not ? My head was the size of a zeppelin...But they didn't care, as long as the papers were delivered, they were happy, they just looked the other way...those bastards...I was an animal, man. I would growl and bark back at the dogs on my route...
And God help you if you didn't have the money for your paper when I came knockin'... I remember this one deadbeat, I'll call him Mr. Vanhosenlinden to protect his identity, but he owed me for three weeks of newspapers...if I don't come up with that money, it's taken outta my end...well, Mr. Vanhosenlindengives me some sob story about the death of his pet chinchilla and I tell him to save the sob stories for Phil Donahue, I want my money..."I don't have it" he says, so I crack him across the knees with a tire iron. Well, let me tell you, he found six bucks pretty fast after that, that's for sure. I could go on, but I think you get the picture.
Anyway, I wish I could say the 'roids ended after I gave up the paper route, but that is NOT the case...no, after the paper route, my use only increased, because I joined the Future Gardeners of America...boy did it get ugly then...gardening is RIFE with drugs,man...It is a madhouse...Again, the 'roids were just supposed to give a little edge over the other guys, I wasn't the greatest hoer ortroweler, I was subpar at watering, but the 'roids changed all that..Who knew that gardening was all about pent-up and misplaced rage ? It was sweet...I was a gardening dervish, man...I kicked all of their asses, in a gardening sense, anyway...but, it got away from me there as well...One time, Mr.Cheehobaletoperin, our peer leader at FGA suggested that my soil might not be as aerated as it could be...and I lost it...I shoved his head into the soil, and he ended up getting 36 pounds of soil pumped out of his stomach...We did win at the Grand Fair that year, largely on the strength of my cherry tomato crop, but in the end, it just wasn't worth it...
There you have it folks, my horror tale of steroid abuse...I feel better for having shared it, and I hope you all will be able to learn from my mistakes...
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