From James Dean to Urkel

So, Squish and I were going to pick up ZoomBoy. We saw him at the intersection, leaning against a fence, waiting for the walk signal.

“Doesn’t he look cool?” I asked– that is not ZB’s default.

“Yeah,” Squish said thoughtfully. “Ankles crossed, hands in pocket, eyes closed. Looks like a movie star.”

Then the light changed and he used his hands in his pockets to yank his pants up by the crotch–and hence up about four inches at the ankles–and he hunched his back, shouldered his backpack, and crossed the street like the hunchback of Notre Dork playing pocket pool.

Squish and I were like this: 0.0

ZoomBoy got in the car and we were like, “Uh, your pants falling down?”

“Yeah, but I keep my hands in my pockets so nobody knows.”

“Uh, yeah, son. Maybe ask dad for a belt when we get home.”

Belt looks great!

Also, we got a Christmas card today that sort of baffled us.

I recognized the address–it was a friend from high school– we swap Christmas cards still, although we haven’t seen each other in ten years.

The name was different. “Hey, isn’t that the name of that guy that my (other) friend dated about fifteen years ago?”


I opened up the card and read the letter.

So, Christmas card friend had married that one guy’s twin brother.

Which, folks, is probably why it’s a good idea to–in the immortal words of Bowling for Soup– get the fuck out of your hometown.

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