Admittedly, I’ve been having a bit of a mid life crisis lately. I know I’m only twenty two, but I’ll probably make it to forty four, max, so the math actually works out. I’m a couple classes and 4 months away from graduating college, and am scared shitless of being a real person. I met with a grad school advisor today, and debated suicide multiple times during the conversation.
To get through that, I’ve decided to think back and talk about my favorite childhood games. The one’s that have made me the man I am today. The games and activities that put me on the map as a bad boy from a young age.
Duck Duck Goose
Probably the most true test of physical prowess, in my opinion. This is where I got my quick feet and my ability to turn on a dime. There’s something primal about chasing someone down. The anticipation of hearing goose was also intoxicating. I felt like a bull in a cage.
Nothing was worse than the kids who would go duck for way too long. It’s not funny. Just hurry up and let me take your head off.
Anything involving a parachute
I was the parachute prince. Like to the point that it was weird. Looking back, it must have been a bit concerning for my parents to see their son so obsessed over a big rainbow canvas. I could only image the conversations with the other parents. “Oh which one is your son?” “The kid with the big head rolling around in the oversized gay pride flag.” Whatever. Love is love.
Hands down the best game, and one of the very few non-gay things you can do on your knees. If you didn’t have the red Mylec hockey nets in your basement with the red and blue sticks, zero percent chance anyone willingly hung out with you as a kid. You were the kid my mom made me hang out with because your parents were nice people.
Peeing your pants
No joke, I peed my pants every day of first grade. Every single day. I was scared shitless (or peeless?) of my teacher, and couldn’t muster up the courage to ask to go to the bathroom. I basically learned to read and write in a puddle of my own piss. Then again, that’s how great writers are made. Adversity. And also urine, I guess.
Looking back, I’m actually thankful for that year. Thanks to that teacher, I now have the strongest bladder known to man. Nice little silver lining to that story.
This was a great way to exploit the weak, both physically and mentally. Was I the strongest growing up? No. I know, huge surprise, but no. That said, mentally I could not be touched. No one was breaking through my arm chain. I’d dislocate my shoulder before breaking off. Red rover red rover bring that thiccc ass on over.
This is just an American staple. I never had a real bully, but my friends and I were mean as shit to each other. For young kids, we had no line. Nothing was off limits. More shocking things were said in one day of elementary school than all of high school.
Writing “pen” and “is” really close to each other
I’m not sure how many people did this, but it’s still the funniest thing I’ve ever done and it will never not be funny. I remember every time my friends and I had to go write a sentence on the board, we’d always write something like “The pen is on the desk”. We’d have a contest on who could write “pen” and “is” the closest, because it would look like penis. Comedic gold if you ask me.
Being mean to girls
A classic tactic as old as time. Day 1 stuff. Everyone knew you had to be mean to the girl you liked. That way no one would think you like her, despite you going obviously out of your way to be mean. Honestly, the tactic still kind of works today. Not saying it’s right. But it still works. Nice guy never wins.
Hiding bad grades from your parents
Admittedly, I was awful at this. I remember one time, I did poorly on a spelling test, and had to take it home and get signed. Obviously I wasn’t going to do that, because I wasn’t a bitch. Branding 101. So I did a little damage control and signed it myself. Unfortunately, I hadn’t learned cursive yet, so it was a bit of a giveaway when I printed my dad’s name. I also had the handwriting of Michael J Fox.
Just the tip
Just kidding, sort of.