Thursday, November 5, 2009 | 0 Comment(s)

I was not a rebellious kid.  My parents were achievement oriented, which is a nice way of saying that they expected me to ace school, which is a passive aggressive way of saying they wanted what was best for me.  However you say it, I rarely fell out of line, and when i did, it was mostly due to my excess of energy (I believe they call is ADHD now) getting me sent into the hall. 

For the purpose of example: One time in middle school i was dared to put my arms inside my t-shirt and then out the opposite holes.  "Cross-arms."  Oh, this was during math class.  Anyways, i successfully complete said challenge only to find myself (much like getting punched while cross-eyed), stuck that way.  I am heaving back and forth trying to free myself, my classmates are now laughing their faces off, and soon the teacher inevitably sends me into the hallway to, and i remember this quote clearly, "straighten myself out."  For me, the funniest part of this story is that once in the hall, I still couldn't free myself.  SO you can imagine the print shop teacher's surprise walking down the hallway only to find a 7th grader flailing cross-armed in front of him.  Mercifully, he helped me out. 
I think ive made my point in any event.

The setting for today's actual story is elementary school.  In the lunch room you had multiple options.  I believe that there was the days "lunch" plus PB&J and PB&F or the "Fluffernutter."  There may have been more options, but it was a long time ago and I can't remember.  What i DO remember is that my parents were lenient enough to allow me something like 2 Fluffernutters a school year.  Maybe 3.  And i remember being smart enough to let them know when i used my "Fluff passes."  But here's the thing.  If you figure there are 180 school days, and 5 of them I brought lunch because of Passover, and probably 100 of them I wanted what they were cooking that day, and then the 20 or so days where i would trade lunches with kids who brown bagged it, well then you would have the times i ate Fluff at school.  That number = EVERY FUCKING DAY OF SCHOOL (minus passover).  I ate that fluff silly.  I sucked up that white mellowy sugar hug of a substance each and every day i was in that cafeteria.  And I am extremely proud of that.  How ahead of my time.  All i had to do was make sure my older brother (2 years my senior) didn't catch me (aka. tell on me) and I was golden.  So now, think to those days when i would tell them that i had "one of my 2 Fluff sandwiches today."  I was a little friggin genius, rebelling with marshmallow slathered white bread. 

Later, in college or after, I told my parents all this.  They laughed.  Mom called me, "a little shit."  But i know down deep they were proud that I was already thinking for myself by 3rd grade.

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