The Story of My Life

I was born in a hospital in South Charleston, WV, on September 29, 1873... whoops, sorry, 1973. I'm not really young anymore, but, fuck, I'm not that old.

Some people might be interested to know that, when my mother gave birth to me, she opted to use self-hypnosis instead of anesthetics or drugs. Now that I think back on it, I probably would've preferred the opportunity to sample the epidural through the umbilical cord, but, hey, what did I know, I hadn't been born until it happened.

Dave Miller always tells this story about when I was four and he and my brother Dave would be jamming together, back when they were in high school, and I'd walk in banging on pans, jamming along.

So blame their sorry asses for all those stupid fucking Youtube videos.

Apparently, the family really didn't have much when I was a kid. I didn't really notice that much, because I was a kid, but sometimes I'd get a glimmer that there was a lot of stuff the family couldn't afford. It makes sense... Mom had seven kids, and that costs a shitload. Especially when they're all growing at different times and rates.

But it was still cool, I didn't care. I didn't really miss the things other kids my age took for granted, like cable TV or video games, because I had the woods, and I had my imagination.

Well, actually, I would've loved to have seen Porky's on HBO when it was first starting to get stale. But I wasn't allowed to see titties, and I wasn't allowed to see scary movies.

Of course, every chance I got, I went to friends' houses and saw the titties and scary movies on their HBO and Skinemax. But it wasn't a regular thing; I didn't get to see that stuff at home, and I couldn't always be at someone else's house.

Other than having entertainment restrictions, it wasn't a really strict household for me. By the time I came around, Mom and Dad had been through that crap six times before, so the situation was, "Okay, um... Lori, Aline, can you take care of this one?"... or so I'm told. I remember things a little differently, because for the most part I remember Mom as being around quite a bit. And I remember Dad coming home smelling like a chemical plant, because he did.

Dad used to pop his teeth out and freak out my friends. Funny as hell.

Tune in next time when I ramble incoherently in short paragraphs talking about my life using little to no detail by moving the story further forward in time! You won't want to miss it!