Me at 52. Fuck you Mom, Dad, and all the priests, nuns, and kids from high school.
Anyone else have a habit of cruising Facebook for photos of people who were unkind to you in high school?
Do you ever try to determine if you could kick the shit out of them now? I’ve been doing it lately, and in almost every instance, the answer is “Yes.”
The only one who could still take me in a fight was always nice to me, anyway. Still, I intend to work out harder so I can also kick his ass.
I grew up in Delaware County, PA right outside of Philadelphia. There’s something unabashedly crass about the whole area that I love, but it’s a style vacuum. A couple years ago, Philly won the award for the country’s ugliest people two years in a row. This is why:
Just about everyone I went to high school with has congealed into a fat shiftless blob. The stud on the left there, if memory serves, was the only guy in our high school’s history to knock up a girl while still in high school. I don’t know if the woman on the right is the girl in question. I suppose I’d have to peel away about 20,000 cheese steaks and 100,000 TastyKakes before arriving at a conclusion. But the dude also caused a bit of a stir when he transferred to our high school because he was Polish. Since all we knew were Micks and Dagos, he seemed so exotic to us. But I never had beef with him, so kicking his ass isn’t an issue, although it’d be easy.
With rare exceptions, it doesn’t seem like any of these scrappleheads I knew from high school have so much as left the state of Pennsylvania since graduation. I remember revisiting my ‘hood of origin in 1995 and finding that a kid I’d gone to school with had left the nest…and moved NEXT DOOR to his parents. That was pretty much the extent of adventurousness and upward mobility where I’m from—you move next door to your parents and embark upon a new life.
This guy is a year older than me, but this picture was taken in 2011, so he’s younger here than I am now:
In his defense, he was always highly intelligent and polite, so kicking his ass isn’t even an issue. I figured he was going to become a priest, but maybe he got cold feet.
I also dug up a picture of my father standing next to me at the Grand Canyon in 1971. In this pic, he’s two years younger than I am now:
They were so cruel to me. For a while there, they forced me to grow a tree out of my head.
Fuck you, Dad. I win. Nice socks, asshole.
In short, I don’t see the point in using Facebook to find new friends, nor to reconnect with old ones. Obviously the only mentally healthy way to use the site is to indulge in violent fantasies against people you haven’t seen since the 1970s.