If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Today's Post is brought to you by the Letter J

In keeping with my mischievous childhood you might think and aptly titled post such as JAIL would be appropriate, I won’t say that I’ve been or haven’t been.
 I’ll leave that up to your imagination or your investigational skills. 
I’ve struggled with the letter J.  I have a cat named Jiminy but he is a cat and as cats go, he is on par with most, (Not doing much of anything at all) so a post about him would be a rather futile attempt at any type of entertainment.
There was the great and beautiful Jarra but that is water under the bridge.  Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt? 
Nope, never knew the man.  So I’ll do what comes naturally and just keep typing until something makes a bit of sense and if it doesn’t, then it fits this blog anyways.
I once had a best friend whose name was Jason.  We did everything together. 
Once we rode our bikes up to Nick’s Country Store, which was a small party store in our rural neighborhood. 
Not sure what we were after but we parked the bikes and headed for the door passing a rusted old Ford pickup truck that had a mess of raccoon tails hanging from the rearview mirror. 
This was our initial attention getter, as would any body part from a dead animal be for two teenage boys.
As our eyes shifted from the two tone fur hanging from the chipped mirror, they settled upon the pack of Marlboro cowboy killers resting on the dusty dashboard.  As our widened eyes met and our smiles beamed my hand slid through the window snatching the coffin nails from their place on the cracked, red vinyl. Whatever was in the store was quickly forgotten as we pedaled furiously for the 200 acres of public forest land and the covertness of the giant trees and their sheltering shade.
We smoked what was left in the pack and giggled and swooned as the nicotine raced into our brains giving us the illusion of being drunk.  (Drunk was a state which we had not acquired yet)
It was only then, on the last cigarette that I said to Jason. “I wonder if I could blow smoke out of my ears.”  Being a recent graduate of the PADI dive course at the local strip mall I was an ear equalizing specialist and was set to try and introduce those skills to the world of cigarette smoking.
A big inhale and plugging my nose I forced air out, just as I would underwater, and that is when I felt one
of the worst pains in my life.  That day I discovered that you could pump your lungs up full of smoke but under no circumstance should you blow it out your ears.  I was a first class……………………



  1. Too funny! Isn't it amazing what we did when we were kids?

  2. Another great childhood flashback! Tho i have no idea how one pushes air out their ears. Id like to see this. Thanks for sharing.


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