Monday, December 12, 2005

Meme Again

Stolen from Carol.


If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment here on my blog with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished leaving your comment, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you. I think this will be fun for all; like a bowl of Skittles and M&M's mixed; a color and a flavor for everyone!


Prata said...

Hey Grant, do you remember that time we sat together at the seedy little bar and did shots all night? Yeah, me neither.

I do however, remember the day after that when we finished sharing the toilet as a wretching bench so we could head out and take that long drive to Ohio. Man, that drive was fun, hey what was that song we were singing on that country station?

Anyway, sorry about dredging up the memories about that hitchhiker and the shovel. But at least we haven't heard from the cops about that. Just wanted to say 'hey'. It's been a pleasure knowing you. I have to head down to Argentina though, want to come along? They're paying good money for alcohol testing.

Your Friend

Valkyrie said...

Remember that time you told me you came up with a plan to rid the world of horrible fast food? Well, I don't. Perhaps the drinking contest you suggested had something to do with my unfortunate memory loss. But I do recollect not heeding your warning about your linen closet.

I laughed it off and stuck my arm in to get a towel. I think it was to help you dry the dishes, which would have been my idea. You know I only like to do housework when I'm drunk off my posterior. Or maybe I wanted to fashion some sort of weapon out of it, MacGyver style. I got my poor appendage trapped in a steel bear trap! It smarted quite a bit, thank you very much. I know, I know, you warned me, but what kind of man keeps his linen closet booby trapped? A man with something to hide, I'd wager.

At least you were polite (and sober) enough to wrap the towel around the injury as you drove me to the hospital. The doctors must have been scared of you because they saw me right away, ushering me into emergency surgery.

Funny, I haven't seen you since I was released from the hospital. I heard you moved into new digs, that's what your neighbor said and gave me your new address. I hope you're doing fine, but I'd like to add that Prisoner 24601 is rather a long apartment number. Anyhow, have a great un-Holiday.

Seasons Greetings,


H.E.Eigler said...

Hey Grant,

Remember that time we went to the zoo and all the monkeys escaped and we couldn’t run or do anything because we were so stoned that we just laughed and laughed about how all the leprechauns were throwing gold? Then do you remember how we caught some of the gold and we were so stoned we didn’t realize it was really monkey dung and we took it to the 7-eleven and tried to buy munchies and slurpees and hotdogs with monkey shit and the clerk called the cops on us but we couldn’t understand what he was saying because all we could think about was leprechauns. And remember how we went to jail? Man that was funny – hey good thing we ended up smelling of monkey crap ‘cause it kept us from making ‘friends’ if you know what I mean, you know, big, hairy butt grabbing friends. Good times. Hey, wanna go to the zoo?

Just Some Gal said...

Dearest Grant,

Do you remember that time we sat by the fire discussing how we were going to dispose of the Blue, Red & Grey Biggest Bogus Disgusting Store of Americana Board of Trustees bodies??

Me Either.

I don't remember exactly how I wound up with the blood soaked clothes but I think it was fun. It involved quite copious amounts of Absinthe & Triple Sec to be sure. The small farming community will now be never remembered for the peaceful nights crashed by our rage filled slashes upon the sick bastards that kept shoving their overrated monopoly down America's throat. I'm thinking it might have been the last straw when they mentioned starting a bank that was "wal mart" funded and such... IT was the last straw I'm sure... But I don't remember.

I also don't remember how we opened a soup kitchen for stray animals and a few homeless pet owners. I wish I did remember, I think it would be a good idea, give them somewhere warm that is pet friendly.

Ah, such fond non-memories.

Weary Hag said...

Dearest childhood buddy ... I was sitting here the other day recalling how you and I used to walk deep into the forbidden woods together after school and suddenly, like a bolt of lightening, I remembered something that I've pushed to the back of my mind all these years. How about that time when we were hanging out sharing a cigarette and suddenly I got bit on the leg by that crazed squirrel? I still can't believe how pissed off you got but I still think you did the right thing when you grabbed his tail, flailed him against the tree and cracked his little skull into smitherenes. Of course, I thought you took it over the top a little when you decided two of his little furry pals deserved the same treatment, but that's you Grant ... always the enforcer.
You were always my big protector back then and by the way, there's this guy I know now ... he's been rather annoying lately and won't get off my back. If I tell you he 'bit my leg' would you still have the same reaction, by any chance? Cuz like, I know his address and there's a big tree in his yard. Let me know. We can share another cigarette after you're finished.

Oh good times man, good times.

circe said...

Do you remember last Labor Day weekend when I gave you a tour of my hometown, Cleveland? We met at Cleveland Hopkins airport and checked into the Sheraton. All weekend was a flurry of activity as we did 'Taste of Cleveland' and tried all the delicious and ethic food. I showed you the Terminal Tower, the Rapid Transit, Tower City, as well as my old schools and house in the 'burbs. You indulged me in checking out the Cleveland National Airshow featuring the Blue Angels. And don't forget the Indians game on Thursday and the Browns game on Friday that we attended. (you looked so cute with the orange/brown painted face!) I could barely stagger back to the rental car after downing that much MGD. That night we hit the Flats where we boogied and barhopped all night. Though thoroughly exhausted, we still managed incredible sex when we weren't out painting the town. I had a great time and was hoping you might be up for doing it all again next Labor Day. What say you, sweetie?

Anyway, good times, good times... ;)


sands of time said...

My favourite memory of you is one from when you were small.Being older than you i have an amazing recall of this.Being the lovely little feminine boy that you are.We dressed you up as a little angel and took you to the local church.And there in front of all the congregation you sang with that lovely angelic voice you have.
Oh such sweet memories.

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

Hey Grant....remember that one band camp??? ;)

Okay, okay...I do have one memory that stands out....really I do.

Remember that one time, when we were about seventeen or so, and we got ripped on some really good crippy and we snuck up into the balcony at the old Arcade Theater in town and we each had some of that fake snot-like stuff called "Slime"? You remember, don't you? It came in a litte green plastic cannister? Yeah, that's the stuff!

Anyway, we snuck up to the balcony (they had it closed FOREVER because it was structurally unsound) and we'd get about a teaspon full of that slime on the top of our middle finger and flick it down onto the unsuspecting movie patrons below??? Wasn't that hilarious?

Then, after that, we'd hit the local 7-11 for some Doritos and beef jerky.

Ahhh such good times...;)

Leesa said...

Grant, remember the time you picked me up from work and we were going to go clubbing? I still had on my Girl Scout uniform – and you thought it would be fun for me to party in my work clothes.

We went to this one bar, and this mountain of a man kept staring at us. I thought it was because he never saw a biracial couple, but really he thought I was underaged. Being the bad ass that you are, you said some stupid remark about me having "a tight 16-year-old hole." The big guy and you started fighting; the next thing I know, we were all downtown, and you were being booked for statutory rape. It took me hours to convince the guy I was not a Girl Scout, but that I worked for the Girl Scouts. Damn, I wish I would have had my purse.

Guess that is what you get for being a smart ass!

Butterscotch said...

Dear Grant,

Do you remember that one drunken night we spent together?

I think it is time you finally met the outcome.

His name is Junior.