Fight Club.
I'm not sure how this popped into my head, but tonight I was reminded of the only time I've ever seriously wanted to punch someone. I've never started a fight, never hit anyone on the playground, never even had to defend myself in a fight. I've always been able to talk myself out of those situations.
By the time I was 15, I had pretty much gotten over the idea of big piles of gifts for Christmas. Not that I don't like gifts, I just prefer to have a nice gift or two and be mellow about it. Better to give, blah blah, blah. Anyway, when I was 15 the only gift I asked for from my dad was a pair of ice skates. I even picked out a pair that was well under $100; a basic, low-end pair of Bauer hockey skates.
Christmas came, and I got no skates. In fact, I got nothing at all. I was pretty hurt. My dad hates receiving gifts of any kind on any occasion. Birthdays, Christmas, Cinco De Mayo, whatever - DO NOT buy him a gift. I never understood this hatred, and to now have him apply this holiday methodology to me was all kinds of Not Good. Hell, I'd even spent some of my hard-earned Burger King job money to buy him a gift anyway - angry tirades against giving him gifts be damned.
The situation came to a head when I walked over to his home the day after Christmas to ask him about it. I don't remember what his exact words were, but I do remember him being quite smug about not buying me a gift and not even the least bit apologetic, as I had hoped. This drove me beyond hurt straight to the angry off ramp.
I remember him standing up at one point during the argument, so I also stood and put my face about a half an inch away from his as I yelled "ALL I WANTED WAS A PAIR OF FUCKING SKATES!"
Funny thing I remember noticing at that moment was that he really is two inches shorter than I am. I was looking down on him. And if he had not backed down, I know that I would have tried to punch him.
He bought me a pair of skates the next day.
By the time I was 15, I had pretty much gotten over the idea of big piles of gifts for Christmas. Not that I don't like gifts, I just prefer to have a nice gift or two and be mellow about it. Better to give, blah blah, blah. Anyway, when I was 15 the only gift I asked for from my dad was a pair of ice skates. I even picked out a pair that was well under $100; a basic, low-end pair of Bauer hockey skates.
Christmas came, and I got no skates. In fact, I got nothing at all. I was pretty hurt. My dad hates receiving gifts of any kind on any occasion. Birthdays, Christmas, Cinco De Mayo, whatever - DO NOT buy him a gift. I never understood this hatred, and to now have him apply this holiday methodology to me was all kinds of Not Good. Hell, I'd even spent some of my hard-earned Burger King job money to buy him a gift anyway - angry tirades against giving him gifts be damned.
The situation came to a head when I walked over to his home the day after Christmas to ask him about it. I don't remember what his exact words were, but I do remember him being quite smug about not buying me a gift and not even the least bit apologetic, as I had hoped. This drove me beyond hurt straight to the angry off ramp.
I remember him standing up at one point during the argument, so I also stood and put my face about a half an inch away from his as I yelled "ALL I WANTED WAS A PAIR OF FUCKING SKATES!"
Funny thing I remember noticing at that moment was that he really is two inches shorter than I am. I was looking down on him. And if he had not backed down, I know that I would have tried to punch him.
He bought me a pair of skates the next day.
posted by steve at 10:23 PM
3 Comments:
That would be the worst Rankin-Bass holiday special ever. Even worse than Rudolph's Shiny New Year.
My dad was very weird about gifts as well. He would accept them, but then wait several weeks to even unwrap them. And he rarely gave gifts. I can only remember three that he gave me in my entire life, a fire extinguisher (I don't know ...), a brown paper bag with cash inside, and a fully stocked toolbox along with an advisement to "never lend tools" (which is actually probably the best gift and most useful advice I've ever received).
tog: my dad once gave me a toolbox full of tools along with that very same advice. I wonder if we're somehow distantly related.
Just remember not to tuck your thumb, you'll sprain it.
Or you could beat your opponent with a sack of oranges! Gets your point across and won't leave a bruise.
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